‘I... I...’ she stuttered again, looking shocked. Was she playing the innocent or was she just slow? She was obviously a gate crasher, so Rico would have expected her to play her part in this charade with a bit more alacrity. Never mind. He didn’t bed women for their brains.
‘Very good, Signor Falcone,’ the man said, and ticked his name off the list, officious little nobody that he was. Rico moved into the room, his arm still around the woman’s waist. She didn’t resist, he noticed.
‘Champagne, I think,’ he murmured, and snapped his fingers. A waiter hurried forward and Rico plucked two glasses from the proffered tray before handing one to his next mistress. He’d already decided on that, although he didn’t think she’d last too long. They never did. ‘So. You obviously don’t have an invitation to this party, but what is your name?’ It was just about the only information he required of her.
‘H—Lina,’ she said, her fingers clenched tight around the stem of her glass.
‘Lina?’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘You sounded as if you were going to say something else.’
She smiled sweetly, her eyes flashing dark fire, intriguing him. ‘Lina will do for you.’ So she had some spirit. He liked that, as long as she didn’t start getting notions, thinking she could control him. Make him care. A few of the women he’d bedded had made that error, and it had been very tedious indeed. He’d had to make short work of them, when he would have enjoyed their attentions for a little bit longer.
‘Lina,’ he repeated, letting the syllables slide around in his mouth. ‘And why were you so desperate to attend a party that you weren’t invited to?’
She cocked her head, her smile teasing, her eyes alight, although he sensed a surprising nervousness underneath. ‘What girl doesn’t want to have fun?’
‘Right answer,’ he murmured, and clinked her glass. Her smile deepened, revealing a delightful dimple in one cheek, and she took a sip of her champagne.
‘Oh, it’s delicious!’ she exclaimed, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
‘You almost sound as if you haven’t tasted champagne before.’
She gave him a haughty look. ‘Of course I have,’ she said, and then, as if to prove the point, she drained her glass.
‘Time for another, I think,’ Rico said, and summoned a waiter with one imperious gesture. This woman, this Lina, was fascinating. Gate-crasher, definitely. Gold-digger as well, he was quite sure. He didn’t mind, though; as long as women were upfront about what they wanted—as he was about what he didn’t—the arrangement was usually satisfactory. He felt the tingle through his body of attraction and, yes, desire as he looked at her. Tonight, he hoped, was going to be very satisfactory.
She was certainly lovely, and unabashedly sexual with her tight dress and tumbled hair. She hadn’t bothered with make-up or jewellery, as if she had no need for extra frippery for what was, after all, a very basic transaction. She’d come to this party looking for fun, and quite possibly a protector. Rico intended it to be him, at least for a short while.
He took another flute of champagne from the proffered tray and handed it to her. ‘Cin cin,’ he murmured, and she smiled.
‘Cin cin.’ They’d been speaking Italian, and hers was flawless, although Rico suspected it was not her first language. He wondered what was. There was a faintly exotic cast to her features, her slightly tilted eyes and golden skin. He had no intention of or interest in asking her such questions or learning more about her. He’d long ago found that women started expecting things, emotional things, when he asked them even the most basic of questions. So he didn’t. And he made sure they didn’t ask any of him, either.
‘Lina,’ he said. ‘This party bores me. Do you want to go upstairs?’
Surprise flashed through her eyes and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, causing another painful arrow of desire to knife through him. ‘Upstairs?’
‘Yes, upstairs. I have the penthouse suite.’ He let his mouth curve in a lazy smile. ‘I think it would be a great deal more comfortable up there, and the champagne is of a far better vintage.’
‘I don’t even know your name,’ she protested, her cheeks flushing. She looked uncertain but also excited. Perhaps he’d been a bit too abrupt. He was getting tired of the same old niceties.
‘Rico,’ he said, although he was quite sure she knew who he was. Everyone here did. ‘I’m the CEO of Falcone Enterprises.’
‘Falcone...’ Recognition flashed in her eyes.
‘You’ve heard of me, then.’
‘Yes, in the bathroom just now.’ Lina bit her lip, looking both guilty and amused. ‘Two women were talking about you.’
‘Were they?’ Rico arched an eyebrow. ‘Women’s gossip in a bathroom—I can imagine what they said, and I assure you, it’s all true.’
Her eyes rounded. ‘All of it?’
Rico didn’t even hesitate. ‘All of it,’ he drawled, and Lina let out a hiccupping laugh. She had, he noticed, already finished her second glass of champagne.
‘They said you were cold. A heart of ice...’
‘Pejorative, but essentially true.’
‘Oh?’ Lina tilted her head, her eyes sparkling, a small smile curving her lush mouth. ‘How are you so cold, then?’