He frowned. “Don’t what?”
His cruelty took her breath away. She blinked fast, glaring up at him. “I know I’m not beautiful. And it’s fine. I know I’m not smart either, and I can live with that. But for you to stand there and taunt me like that …” She gripped her hands into fists. “It’s not just patronizing, it’s heartless!”
Alessandro looked down at her gravely, not saying a word. And Lilley sucked in her breath, realizing she’d just told off her boss.
She clasped her hands together. “I’m fired, right?” When he didn’t reply, a shudder of grief went through her. Her hands shook as she picked up a file from the floor and reached for the metal cart. “I’ll finish my work,” she said miserably, “then collect my things.”
He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “So a compliment is a taunt?” Staring down at her, he shook his head. “You’re a strange girl, Lilley Smith.”
The way Prince Alessandro was looking at her, for an instant she’d almost thought—but no. Strange was a code word for helpless failure. She said over the lump in her throat, “So my father has always told me.”
“You’re not fired.”
She looked up at him with the first glimmer of hope. “I’m not?”
Leaning forward, he took the file from her hand and set it on top of the metal cart. “I have a different sort of penalty in mind.”
“The guillotine?” she said weakly. “The electric chair?”
“You’ll come with me to the ball tonight.”
Her lips fell open. “W-what?”
His dark eyes were as warm as molten chocolate and hot as embers of fire. “I want you to be my date.”
Lilley stared at him, her eyes wide, her heart pounding. Had she fallen into some strange dream? Prince Alessandro could have the most beautiful women on earth—and he’d already had quite a few of them, according to the celebrity tabloids. Frowning, she turned around to make sure he wasn’t talking to some movie star or lingerie model behind her.
“Well, cara?” he said huskily. “What do you say?”
Lilley turned back. She felt dizzy from his attention, half-drunk beneath the intensity of his dark gaze. She said slowly, “I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?”
Lilley clea
red her throat. “I don’t get the joke.”
“I never joke.”
“You don’t? Too bad. I joke all the time,” she said. “Usually by accident.”
He didn’t even smile. He just looked down at her, his face unmovable and oh, so handsome.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“But—it’s the Preziosi di Caetani ball,” she stammered. “The biggest charity event of the summer. The mayor will be there. The governor. The paparazzi.”
“So?”
“So you could have any woman you want.”
“And I want you.”
His four simple words made Lilley’s heart twist in her chest. She clasped her trembling hands together. “But you have a girlfriend. I’ve read—”
His expression hardened. “No.”