Bought for the Sicilian Billionaire's Bed

‘Thanks very much,’ she said hurriedly, trying to slide into the back of the car as decorously as possible—something which wasn’t especially easy since Salvatore was sitting on the other end of the soft leather seat, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. His arms were crossed and she couldn’t make out the expression on his face because the interior of the car was shadowed, but she saw the glint in his narrowed eyes as he watched her.

‘So here you are,’ he murmured, though his initial thought was one of disappointment. His crazy scheme was just that, he realised. Crazy. With her cheap and bulky coat concealing her slight frame and her pale face she looked just what she was. Ordinary. There was no way that this young woman could accompany him to anything, other than perhaps to help carry his shopping in to the apartment. Who would believe that a man like him was dating a woman like her? Nobody with more than one brain cell, that was for sure. ‘Where do you live?’

Jessica sat bolt upright. ‘Shepherd’s Bush.’ She gave the name of the road to the driver, who then closed the interconnecting glass so that she was left alone with Salvatore. The last time she had felt as out of place as this was her last day at school, when she’d forgotten that it was a ‘no uniform’ day.

Salvatore’s mouth curved with wry amusement as he registered her stiff frame and uptight body-language. She was nervous, he realised. Did she think that he was about to leap on her? If so, then she clearly had an overinflated view of her own appeal! ‘Relax,’ he said softly.

Jessica leant back in the seat—though the leather was so soft and squishy that it was hard to believe that she was actually sitting in a car.

‘This is really very kind of you,’ she said.

‘Not a problem.’

‘Where…where do you live?’ It seemed like a very personal question to ask—but what were the rules for a situation like this? She couldn’t spend an entire journey asking him if he was satisfied with the level of cleanliness in his office!

‘Chelsea.’

Of course he did. Rich, glamorous Chelsea with its glorious white villas and springtime trees daubed with cherry blossom.

‘I don’t want to take you out of your way, sir.’

The ‘sir’ seemed oddly inappropriate under the circumstances, but she was a thoughtful little thing, he realised. Salvatore smiled as he leaned back and glanced out of the window.

‘I can easily have the driver drop me off first if I choose,’ he said coolly. ‘But there are parts of your city with which I am unfamiliar—and so I shall see this place Shepherd’s Bush for myself.’

Don’t hold your breath, Jessica wanted to say, but instead she smiled back. She half wondered if she should chat and ask him about whether he was enjoying his time in England, but he seemed to have an aversion to small talk. And besides, he was the kind of man who liked to lead a conversation—not to follow it.

Salvatore felt oddly soothed by the silence which filled the car and which—surprisingly—she didn’t try to fill with inane chatter. Why could women never see the value in peace and always insist on shattering it with unnecessary words?

They drove through a rainy city and for once he felt completely cocooned within the purring warmth of the car. It was all too easy to take luxury for granted, he found himself thinking as the limousine slowed to turn into a road featuring a row of terraced houses.

‘It’s that one on the end,’ said Jessica, glad that the journey had passed without anything going wrong. But she also felt strangely reluctant to leave the sumptuous cosiness in exchange for the cold reality outside. ‘Just here.’

‘You own this, do you?’ questioned Salvatore as the car came to a halt in front of a small house.

Jessica turned to him. Was he crazy? No, he was just rich and the rich were different—everyone knew that. It wasn’t his fault that he had no comprehension of how people like her lived their lives. She shook her head. ‘Property’s hugely expensive in London. I rent—in fact, I share this house with two other girls. Willow works in the fashion business and Freya is an air stewardess—though she’s away a lot.’

But Salvatore wasn’t really listening. Maybe it was because the rain had finally stopped. Or maybe it was because the moon had appeared from behind the dark curtain of a cloud. It was amazing what a little light could do.

He found himself looking down at her face, at skin which looked impossibly pure and clean. Her grey eyes were illuminated by that same light and so was the subtle gleam of her mouth. Unexpectedly, she looked all eyes and lips and her pauper-like appearance suddenly crumbled to dust in his memory.

‘Are you busy tomorrow night?’ he questioned suddenly.

Jessica blinked. ‘No. Why?’

‘How would you like to accompany me to that dinner I was telling you about?’

‘You mean, as your guest?’ she queried, her voice quivering on the brink of astonishment.

What did she imagine he wanted—that he was taking his own personal cleaner? But at least with Jessica, Salvatore knew that he could be upfront. A girl like her was unlikely to read anything into the situation, but he’d better make it clear.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said impatiently. ‘But what I really want is for you to act like my girlfriend—’

‘Your girlfriend?’ she interrupted, even though everyone knew you should never interrupt your boss but this was so bizarre that the normal rules had gone flying out of the window.

‘It’s just a little role play,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing too demanding. Gaze into my eyes a little. Look at me adoringly once in a while. Think you could manage that without too much trouble?’ His eyes mocked her with the question because Salvatore knew that there wasn’t a woman alive who would find that an impossible task. ‘Get the predators off my back once and for all, and let them know that if I want a woman, then I’ll do the choosing myself.’

‘But there must be a million women you could ask!’ exclaimed Jessica.

‘Oh, at least a million,’ he answered, with cool and mocking humour. ‘But none of them suitable for all kinds of reasons.’ The main one being that they saw him as husband-material, something which this little thing would never be guilty of.

‘But won’t…?’ Jessica bit her lip. Wasn’t it more than a bit humiliating to have to ask the next question? But ask it she needed to. ‘Won’t it be slightly unbelievable…someone like me going out with someone like you?’

‘Possibly,’ Salvatore conceded, his eye flicking disparagingly over her bulky waterproof. ‘If you were dressed like that it might be very difficult indeed.’

‘Oddly enough, it didn’t occur to me to put on my best party dress for work,’ she said, hurt.

‘You mean you might have something suitable tucked away?’

For a moment she felt like saying no, she didn’t, because surely that would get her off the hook? But somehow she didn’t think that Salvatore would let it rest now that he’d made up his mind about this strange assignment. If she said that she didn’t have anything to wear, then mightn’t that look as if she was angling to be given something? Just because she cleaned his office didn’t mean that she couldn’t scrub up well!

And besides, there was an undeniable part of her which was thrilled at the thought of accompanying Salvatore Cardini to a party. Didn’t life sometimes throw opportunities at you which would be a crime to turn down?

‘Of course I’ve something suitable to wear,’ she said proudly, and then a sudden, heady sense of her own power swept over her in a way it had never done before. ‘But I haven’t said I’ll go yet, sir.’

The preposterous statement made him smile, but it made a pulse begin to beat heavily at his temple, too. She would be very foolish indeed if she began to tease him—she was dealing with a man and not a boy. He could bend her to his will with the mere whisper of his fingertip.

Fractionally, he leaned forward, his face closer, his voice soft. ‘But I think you will, won’t you, Jessica? And while we’re at it, I think you should lose the “sir”, don’t you? In the circumstances it might be a bit of a giveaway.’

He was so close that she could see the moonlight glinting in his sapphire eyes and sense his animal warmth, the tangy scent of soap and raw masculinity. This close he was…Jessica felt her heart give an irregular skip. He was irresistible.

Was she playing with fire?

‘Yes, I’ll come,’ she said, and then stumbled out of the car before either of them could change their minds.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_3ea0dc64-ab96-53bd-96f0-0eaeb8a53c01)

‘YOU’RE going where tomorrow night?’ demanded Willow in a voice of sheer disbelief.

‘Out to dinner,’ said Jessica faintly as she took off her bulky jacket. The limousine had just driven away and it was almost as if she needed to repeat the words to herself to believe that they were true. ‘With Salvatore Cardini.’

Willow’s eyes widened. ‘That’s the Salvatore Cardini? The Italian billionaire playboy who owns that company where you play Mrs Mop in the evenings?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Let’s make sure we’re talking about the same man here, Jessica. Black-haired, blue-eyed, sex-on-legs but with a mean, dangerous look about him?’

‘Well, yes—that just about sums him up.’