She looked up at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. “I shouldn’t have said that aloud. You must think—”
“I think nothing.” His dark gaze seared through her soul. “Never apologize for telling me what you’re thinking. You can’t hurt me. There is nothing between us, so you risk nothing.”
She blinked at him, feeling quivery. “Now you’re the one who is being nice.”
He snorted, then shook his head, a small smile playing on his sensual mouth. “That is one accusation I’ve never heard before. Now drink.”
Obediently, she took a sip. As she drank, she heard him muse aloud, “Delicious, isn’t it? I just bought the winery from a Brazilian. Cost me a fortune.” His lips curved. “But it gives me a great deal of pleasure, since I know it infuriates my worst enemy.”
Lilley’s eyes flew open as she pulled the flute from her lips. She said faintly, “Not the St. Raphaël vineyard.”
“Ah, you recognize it?” He smiled in satisfaction. “It once belonged to the Count of Castelnau. Now it is mine.”
“You don’t say,” Lilley said faintly, feeling sick. She’d heard Théo, her cousin and former employer, rage about losing that vineyard in a business deal to a Brazilian. It was only after he’d lost it that he’d realized its value. Typical, she thought. People were so much better at pursuing things they didn’t need instead of enjoying what they already had.
But the two men had competed over acquisitions with growing ferocity for the last five years, ever since Théo had bought a small Italian luxury firm that Alessandro considered rightfully his by geography. If he ever found out she was Théo’s cousin, he’d never believe Lilley wasn’t a corporate spy. Especially after catching her in his office, all alone in the dark!
Her knees trembled. He caught her. “Are you all right?” he asked, looking concerned. “Did you drink the champagne too quickly?”
She looked up at him. She’d left her father’s and cousin’s names off her résumé because she’d known Caetani Worldwide would have never hired her otherwise, in spite of Jeremy’s recommendation, no matter how honest or hard-working she might be. But telling Alessandro the truth would gain her nothing, and would cost her her job—forcing her to go home to her father and perhaps even consider his demand that she marry his employee, a man twice her age.
“Lilley?”
“I just need something to eat,” she managed. “I haven’t eaten all day.” She gave him a weak smile. “And I did jog a half mile.”
“Of course.” Taking the half-finished flute from her hands, he set both glasses on the silver tray of a passing waiter and gave her a sudden grin. “I’ve arranged for a private dinner of sorts. My driver has taken a selection from the buffet to the limo. We’ll enjoy a little picnic on the way home.”
“A picnic? In your limo?” she said faintly. She shook her head, feeling dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with champagne. With a wistful sigh, she looked back at the glamorous ballroom. “All right. I just—didn’t expect it all to end so quickly.”
“All good things come to an end,” he said, holding out his hand.
Reluctantly, she took it. He led her across the ballroom, stopping many times to say farewell to his friends and admirers before they finally escaped up the stairs, through the foyer and out the double doors.
Outside, beneath the hundred-year-old mansion’s shadowy portico, the August night was foggy and cold. “It must be midnight,” she murmured.
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“Almost. How did you know?”
“Because all night I’ve felt like Cinderella.” She looked up at him, and gratitude, real gratitude, rose above her regret that the night was over. “Thank you for the best night of my life.”
He blinked, then frowned. Abruptly, he pushed her against a white stone column. She shivered as she felt the cold, hard stone against the hot skin of her back.
“I don’t think you understand,” he said in a low voice. “I’m not taking you to your home.” He paused. “I’m taking you to mine.”
She stared at him in shock, hearing only her own hoarse breath and the rapid beat of her heart.
“You’re my employee. There are rules.” Alessandro’s eyes were dark with heat, his dark hair dappled with streaks of silvery moonlight as he held her beneath the shadows of the portico. “But I’m going to break them,” he whispered. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Staring up at him, Lilley felt as though she was lost in a strange dream. Tendrils of hair whipped across her face; the fabric of her dress moved languorously against her thighs.
“All night I’ve thought of nothing but touching you.” His hands moved down her shoulders to her naked back. He lowered his head to her ear, and she felt his lips brush her tender flesh. “If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
She closed her eyes as she felt the warmth of his fingers stroke her bare skin, felt his powerful body, barely constrained by his civilized tuxedo, against her own. His fingertips stroked up her neck, and he tilted her head upwards, his face just inches away. She shivered, her lips parted. The two of them were alone in the foggy, moonlit world.
Then she heard paparazzi yapping like small dogs from the curb, barking out questions that were muffled by a sudden howl of cold wind. He twisted away from her sharply. Moonlight caressed the hard edges of his face, making him look like a dark avenging angel as he scowled behind them. He grabbed her wrist.
“Come on.”