Claimed by the Italian: Virgin: Wedded at the Italian's Convenience / Count Giovanni's Virgin / The Italian's Unwilling Wife

Especially when he’d moved right up to her and tilted her chin, producing a clean white handkerchief and gently wiping away the scarlet lipstick she’d taken such pains to apply.

At the touch of his cool, lean fingers, the gentle movement of the fabric against her lips, every sane thought had flown right out of her head.

His eyes, veiled by thick dark lashes, had been intent on what he was doing, his beautiful mouth just slightly smiling, and every inch of her suddenly tense body had craved to move closer to the dominating male strength of his. She had nearly fainted with the urgent throbbing of every cell in her body when he’d run a finger softly over her parted lips and imparted, in a tone that was thicker and deeper than she had heard before, ‘You have a lovely mouth. Soft and incredibly lush. Pink and inviting. It’s a sin to cover it with screaming scarlet.’

‘Inviting.’ What did that mean? That he’d wanted to kiss her? Her heart had begun to pound and clatter; her breathing had grown ragged.

She’d gulped.

With a feeble effort, which he could have stayed with the tip of one finger, she had forced herself to twist away from the sheer temptation of him.

Of course he hadn’t wanted to kiss her! As if! It was completely obvious what he’d been doing.

She could pinpoint exactly when he had started to treat her like a living, breathing female. Right after she’d told him she couldn’t even begin to treat him as if he were a friend when all he did was trample on her.

Paolo Venini was turning on the charm solely in the hope of making her more compliant—she could see straight through him!

Even so, her tummy muscles clenched now as he leaned over and fastened her seat belt for her. She could see every pore of his olive-toned skin, the darkly shadowed jawline, the gleam of those brilliant eyes. She breathed in the mineral tang of the aftershave he used and felt giddy.

He was so dangerous!

But only if she allowed him to be, she reminded herself sternly. And she wouldn’t! She could be strong enough to ignore all that overcharged sexual charisma.

As the plane taxied down the runway she consoled herself with that heartening thought, and when they were airborne, made haste to release her seat belt to stop him moving up close and doing it for her. When he half turned in his seat, angled towards her, she was as proud as if she had just won an Olympic medal when she managed casually, coolly, ‘You said you wanted to work. Please go ahead. I’m not about to disturb you and hurl objections at you at this late stage.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

Warmth in his voice—a smile, even. Nerves prickling, Lily kept staring straight ahead. Looking at him always caused her problems.

Her profile was a delight. Long lashes veiling those big grey eyes, neat nose just slightly pinched around the nostrils, lush lips clamped together. A sign of her apprehension? Compassion stirred within him for the first time. She didn’t like the situation he’d dragooned her into, and it was up to him to try to smooth the way for her.

There had been other firsts, too, he recognised in retrospect. Like noticing the flattering new hairstyle that framed her kittenish face. And then this morning he’d been actually stunned by a woman’s appearance—something that had never happened before. Without the workmanlike trousers and shapeless tops the skinny kid had been revealed as a delightful pocket-sized Venus. The expertly tailored suit she had chosen to wear to travel in skimming small but perfectly formed breasts, emphasising a tiny, tiny waist and showing off the very female curve of her hips.

A glow of what could only be pride in his achievement coursed heatedly through his veins. He had brought about this startling transformation, and Madre would have no trouble believing that this was the woman he had chosen to be his wife.

Faint colour touching his slanting cheekbones, he reached into an inner pocket. Her head was turned away. She was staring out at the clouds. He touched her arm and she stiffened. Wary. Like a kitten who didn’t know where the next kick was coming from.

His strong, dark features clenched. Madre di Dio! Had he, through the force of his character, treated her so badly? Things would have to change. His parent was strongly moralistic, sheltered, strictly reared, and she deplored what she called the laxness of the younger generation, but even she would expect a newly engaged couple to touch each other!

‘Lily.’ Her name, falling softly from his lips, gained her attention. She turned, her eyes wide. He took her hand and felt her tense. ‘Wear this.’ As he slid the ring onto her wedding finger Lily flinched, a shiver running right down her rigid spine and back up again as he imparted warmly, ‘It has been passed down through generations of Venini brides. Madre will expect to see you wearing it.’

The diamond was simply huge, set in antique gold and surrounded by cabochon-cut sapphires. A fabulously expensive prop for a horribly cheap deception! Everything inside her rebelled afresh.

Firmly dismissing the frisson she’d experienced when the mind-bogglingly handsome and wickedly sexy Paolo Venini had placed the ring on her finger, she cast around for some objection he would go for—because her real one would cut no ice with a man who didn’t appear to have a conscience and always thought he was right.

‘It’s much too big. I can’t wear it. I’d only lose it, and it’s got to be worth a fortune,’ she got out as she attempted to remove the ring which symbolised their sham engagement.

His large, lean hands closed over hers. ‘I’ll have it made smaller.’ Like the rest of her, her hands were tiny, her fingers long and slender. Amazingly, feeling them beneath his own much larger hands made him feel quite urgently protective.

‘You can’t do that,’ Lily pointed out blithely, doing her utmost to ignore the way his skin burned against hers. ‘I know you don’t want to marry right now. But one day you will. And then you’ll have to have it altered back again, to fit a bigger finger.’

Incisive golden eyes held hers, his sensual mouth curving as he countered teasingly. ‘I would never marry a woman with fat fingers! Wear it for the time being. Once she has seen it on your finger I’ll tell my mother it has to be altered. I know what I’m doing, believe me.’

He still held her hand. When she tried to pull away his grip merely tightened. Rivers of sensation racing through her made her feel weirdly distracted, and she struggled to focus before she finally managed earnestly, ‘I don’t think you do—know what you’re doing. Not really. Think about it. How long can an engagement last? A couple of years? Ten? Some time you’re going to have to tell her the whole thing’s off. Then how will she feel? Really disappointed because her hopes of seeing you settled and giving her grandchildren have come to nothing!’

He withdrew his hand. Lily felt the coldness settle over him, and his features were bleak as he incised brittly, ‘I would be overjoyed if I believed that Madre had two years left to her.’ Turning away, he reached for the briefcase that held his work, completely dismissing her and the conversation.

But Lily, once her easily touched sympathies had been engaged, wasn’t prepared to accept his dismissal. The poor man was dreadfully worried about his mother, and despite the successful outcome of her operation he was still of the opinion that she wouldn’t survive very long. Wriggling round in her seat to face him squarely, she said gently, ‘You love your mother very much, don’t you?’

‘Naturally.’ The word held a bite.

So the hard nut did have a soft centre. Prepared to explore the phenomenon, to understand him better and forgive his sin of coercion, she pressed, ‘And you’d do anything to make her happy?’

‘That is what this is all about.’ Briefcase abandoned, he slewed round to face her, his eyes derisive. ‘Don’t tell me you’d forgotten? You can’t imagine I’m going through this charade for the pleasure of your company!’

As soon as the words were out Paolo regretted them. She looked as if she had just received a slap in the face. But he had spoken the absolute truth, and if her feelings were hurt, tough. He was not in the habit of stepping softly around the feelings of employees who were being paid handsomely to do as he required—and Lily Frome and her charity were being paid far more handsomely than most.

With a slight shrug of wide, immaculately suited shoulders, Paolo lifted the briefcase again and settled down to work.

Apart from explaining that for the duration of her recuperation his mother was staying with her nurse and companion at the family villa in the hills beyond Florence, Paolo remained silent as he drove a sleek Ferrari through the unspoiled Tuscan countryside.

She might as well be invisible, Lily decided, and told herself she didn’t care. Being ignored was absolutely better than when he was being nice, because when he complimented her, smiled at her or took her hand she, to her shame, went all gooey inside, and promptly forgot what a manipulative creep he was. He might have a slightly redeeming soft spot where his parent was concerned, but beneath that stunning packaging he was mostly just bad-tempered, impatient, arrogant and devoid of conscience. He might have a brilliant brain when it came to business, but he was happy to ride roughshod over the feelings of those he considered to be his inferiors.

That assessment planted firmly in her mind, she told herself that she had to remember that Life Begins would benefit immensely from his funding. Her great-aunt would sleep easier, and she, when this was over, would work hard and try to forget the part she had played in the charity’s salvation.

As for the next two weeks—well, she would get through it as best she could. And maybe, if she presented herself as the sort of woman Signora Venini wouldn’t welcome into her family, the poor thing wouldn’t be at all upset when her hateful son told her the engagement was off! She’d be mightily relieved!

She could pretend to be a complete bitch—cold, hard, only showing any animation when asking how much Paolo was worth—or she could be a complete boor—talking with her mouth full, shrieking with raucous laughter at nothing in particular, scratching herself and burping. Deciding which gave her a heady feeling of control, of paying him back for forcing her to do this.

She must have been grinning at the possible scenarios, because he gave her a sharp look that wiped the smile from her face as he said, ‘We’re here,’ and swung the powerful car between two immense security gates that swung open at his approach.

The wide, curving drive was bordered by tall cypresses which banded the fine-gravelled surface with deep shadows, and Lily’s amusing mental pictures vanished, leaving her feeling deeply apprehensive. This was serious, and she knew that there was no way she could attempt to act the part of this intimidating man’s fiancée and change her character at the same time!

Her heart taking residence in her shoes, she watched as the immense white-stuccoed villa came into view. Large windows glittered in the afternoon sun, and giant stone urns filled with colourful flowers flanked the shallow flight of steps that led up to the main door.

One cue, the door opened, and a slim, white-jacketed servant hurried towards the car as it slid to a halt. Exiting, Paolo spoke in his own language. The only words Lily could pick out were references to his mother, as she sat in her seat like an overlooked package.

The imposing villa was completely intimidating. A palace fit only for the rarefied and screamingly wealthy. How could she, an ordinary, dirt-poor charity worker, hope to even pretend to fit in? For the millionth time she wished she’d never agreed to this. Just gritted her teeth and struggled on as best she could.

When Paolo strode round to her side of the car, opened the door and extended his hand to help her out, all she wanted to do was screw herself down in her seat and refuse to budge.

His manufactured tender smile tightened. He must have seen the mutiny on her face, Lily recognised, and she released a pent-up breath, reluctantly accepting his assistance. After all, she had made a bargain with this devil in heartthrob’s clothing, and she didn’t go back on her word, so annoying him would get her nowhere.

‘Mario will take your luggage up to your room.’ His arm was around her small waist. ‘I suggest you freshen up while I greet my mother. And try to remember that we’re supposed to be head over heels in love with each other.’

A statement guaranteed to make her stomach turn over and set her knees trembling.

His strong arm around her was the only thing keeping her upright, Lily realised as he steered her towards the imposing entrance. Her legs had gone completely tottery, and a million butterflies were having a ball in her tummy. She could only manage a wavery smile as he introduced her to a smiling middle-aged lady.