Only the light from Chloe’s room traced the unlit crystal chandelier hanging from the soaring ceiling. She saw blackout curtains drawn across the windows. But the bedroom was huge, in white and blue toile, like exquisite china. In the far corner she saw a dark wood vanity, obviously an antique; multicolored leather-bound books lined the opposite wall.
She walked farther into the room.
Inside the walk-in closet, she saw the exquisite designer clothes and shoes she’d bought in Milan, organized neatly. On the other side of the closet were tailored suits and men’s shoes.
This fantasy bedroom hadn’t been meant for Lucy alone.
A voice, low and grim, spoke from behind her.
“You disobeyed me. Again.”
Maximo!
But as she whirled around to face him, the open door slammed, plunging the room into darkness. She heard slow, heavy footsteps against the carpet, heard the rapid beating of her own pounding heart.
“You are a liar,” she gasped, trying desperately to see where he was, “and I’m going back to Chicago.”
A growl came from the shadows, and suddenly, his body was against hers. Holding her captive, he held her tight against his heat in the darkness.
CHAPTER NINE
THE bedroom was too dark to see his face, but Lucy felt every inch of him as he crushed her against his body. He was so much larger than her, so much stronger. This flesh-and-blood prince, a man of shadows, uncontrollable, undeniable…
“You’re not going anywhere but my bed.”
“No—” She struggled in his arms but to no avail. His lips descended ruthlessly upon hers.
His kiss was passionate. Unyielding. In the darkness, he seduced her to his will beneath an onslaught of fire. She sagged against him, helpless to resist, helpless even to object. His lips were warm, the taste of his mouth as sweet as molten candy. His body felt good against hers. Too good.
If something feels too good to be true, it’s a lie…
With her last drop of self-control, Lucy shoved him away. Grabbing the nearby curtains, she pulled with all her might.
Violet-gray twilight flooded the room, but it was enough. She was safe. Daylight, the bane of any creature of the night, would cause Maximo to lose his strange power over her.
Wouldn’t it?
“Lucia. Look at me.”
She took a deep breath, then slowly turned her head.
She’d been wrong.
The weak winter twilight was no defense against his supernatural power. He was still as tall as ever, as dark, as handsome. And the expression in his searing blue gaze as he scorched her body was…hungry.
“You’ve disobeyed me for the last time.”
“You’re right.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Because I’m going to tell everyone that you’re a liar, and leave you—ah!”
He’d crossed to her in two steps, grabbing her by the shoulders. “It’s time you learned you cannot constantly accuse me of lying.” He pushed her against the wall of curtains, trapping her. Slowly he stroked up her body. “Not without punishment.”
She felt his featherlight touch against her belly, between her breasts. She leaned back against the wall, desperately fighting her desire.
“I won’t lie for you,” she gasped. “I won’t pretend I’m that poor lost Ferrazzi girl. I won’t let the people who loved her suffer. Not for money. Not for anything.”
He stroked her cheek, raising her chin, forcing her to look in his eyes.
“You,” he said, “are Lucia Ferrazzi.”