‘I will invest in the fund today, this afternoon—no more due diligence, no more delays—if you agree to my terms.’
She crossed her slender arms over her chest, the gesture drawing his eyes to the gentle swell of her cleavage, so every fibre of his being tightened and shook with need. ‘What terms?’
The certainty that he was close to success shot through him. He knew what victory sounded like and it was close at hand.
‘Two weeks.’ His eyes flared as he delivered the terms.
Her lips parted as a small sound rushed out of her and colour peaked in her cheeks, pale pink, so that she was like a very soft rose petal. She knew exactly what he was offering, but he wasn’t a man who was prone to uncertainty, so he felt the need to spell out exactly what he was offering and exactly what he wanted.
‘In my bed.’
And now, he stepped out from behind his desk, moving towards the door where she stood, his stride long, his manner intent.
She stared at him as he approached and he relished this—the promise of what was to come. For, as sure as night followed day, she would agree to his terms.
‘But why?’ The words were whispered, hollow-sounding.
He lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips, keeping her silent. ‘I am not interested in a relationship—not with you or any woman.’ The words were said coldly, but it was better that she understood, unequivocally, how he felt. As a young man Cesare had sworn he would make a success of himself and relationships didn’t factor into that. Sex, yes. Anything more serious? Hell, no. And never with a woman like Jemima, who was as to the manor born as it was possible to get.
‘What I’m offering is a very clearly defined arrangement.’ He felt her swallow this time, her lips pursing as she tried to relax her mouth. He fought an urge to slide his finger into the warm cavity, to feel her moistness wrap around him... Soon. He needed her to agree to this and then it would begin.
‘Explain it to me,’ she whispered, faint of breath.
He took the question as a win. He was close to victory. ‘For two weeks you will be by my side. Morning, noon and night, in my bed any time I wish it, charming me, making love to me. You will be, in every way, mine.’
She trembled a little and a husky gasp escaped her lips. ‘Why?’
He laughed. ‘You really have to ask that?’ He pressed his body forward and, when his hard ridges connected to her soft curves, he didn’t relent, stepping forward again so she was shuffled back into the door. He pressed her to it, seeing the moment her eyes flared wide as she felt his arousal hard against her body.
‘I mean, why would I agree to this?’
He bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile. ‘Putting aside the fact you have just told me how desperate your cousin is, and implied you would do anything to help him?’
Her cheeks fired pink and her eyes cut through him with something approaching disdain. It was useful—an excellent reminder of who and what this woman was. Aristocratic. Entitled. Spoiled. All the things he’d come to loathe, all of the attitudes and bigotries of which he’d been on the receiving end time and again, before he’d made his fortune and become the kind of man with whom everyone—regardless of their title and wealth—felt a need to flatter and ingratiate themselves. Her disdain was nothing new, and it fired him up now, reminding him why he kept himself well away from women like this.
This was just sex. Sex, business, pleasure, but each separated from the other by the lines he was drawing now.
‘I am the only man you have ever slept with,’ he said with a lift of his brow and a twist of his lips that was sheer arrogant machismo. ‘And there is much you have to learn.’
Her eyes narrowed and she regarded him with an even greater level of disdain and even a glimmer of dislike. ‘How do you know you’re the only man I’ve ever slept with?’ she prompted.
‘I was there the other night,’ he reminded her, no dint to his confidence. ‘Remember?’
Her voice was soft when she spoke, mellow and husky. ‘You were my first lover. It doesn’t necessarily follow that you remain my only.’
Cesare—who prided himself on being quick on the uptake—took several seconds to comprehend exactly what she meant. But, when he did, he felt an almighty surge of adrenalin and a burst of male egotism that had him acting without thinking.
‘You’re lying.’ The words ripped from him even as his head swooped down and his lips claimed hers. ‘You are lying.’ He threw the words into her mouth as his hands curled at her hips, lifting her up and bracing her back against the door.
The idea of another man doing this—touching her, kissing her—flicked something inside him and he was waging a war against a primal instinct of possession, an instinct that went beyond sense and logic, an instinct he couldn’t fathom, didn’t welcome, yet couldn’t deny.
He swore into her mouth and kissed her harder, or perhaps it wasn’t a kiss so much as a complete subjugation, a need to show her that he could command her desire and please her more than anyone else on earth.
‘What does it matter?’ she threw at him, breaking free of his kiss before her lips sought his of their own accord.
What did it matter? Hell, he couldn’t say, only he knew it did matter, and it fired his determination anew—he would wipe any other man from her mind, he would remove them from her body, he would make her his. For the sheer sake of it. For pride.
CHAPTER FIVE