The Billionaire's Virgin Box Set

Relief had turned to amazement as she’d examined the contents of her new wardrobe more closely.

Unaccustomed to such a degree of luxury, she was woman enough to feel a flare of excitement as she’d rifled through the dresses on the rail and sifted her way through beautifully folded tops and cardigans, all separated by tissue paper to minimise creasing. And it hadn’t just been clothes. There were shoes, all in her size, bags, accessories and a basket heaped with a selection of exclusive make-up, all new and still in the packaging.

But her laughter had faded as soon as she’d realised that none of the clothes was what she would have chosen. It was true that neither of the two skirts she had with her was suitable for a week on a Caribbean Island. For a start they were just too hot and, yes, she’d be the first to agree that they were also too formal.

But there was informal and then there was—romantic. Romantic and sexy. And the entire wardrobe that had been provided for her seemed to fall into that category. She’d spent half an hour rifling through the rail over and over again, searching for something that said ‘work in a warm climate’. But everything in front of her just seemed to shriek ‘take me, take me’.

The options had either been too short, too fitted, too low cut, or too dressy.

One dress in particular had caught her attention and she’d looked at it in despair, knowing that only an extremely sexually confident woman would dare to wear strapless, scarlet silk.

She certainly wasn’t that woman.

Which was why, in the end, she’d opted for the turquoise dress.

It shimmered in the light and had clearly been lovingly created by some top designer with seduction in mind.

It wasn’t quite as terrifying as the wicked scarlet dress, but it still made her feel uncomfortable.

How could she possibly join a man like Alessio Capelli for dinner wearing something like this?

It was asking for trouble.

For a start it was semi-transparent, presumably designed to be worn over glamorous underwear on an intimate occasion. Or possibly over a swimsuit, by someone so wealthy that shockingly expensive silk could be regarded as beachwear.

The rest of the wardrobe was much the same. Brightly coloured tops, beach dresses, long floating skirts—everything achingly feminine and designed for an ultra-romantic holiday.

But she wasn’t on holiday.

And knowing Alessio Capelli—knowing his ego and his arrogance—if she wore these clothes, he’d take it as a sign that she wanted to take their relationship a step further.

It was incredibly generous of him to have provided her with a suitable wardrobe, but—

Her eyes narrowed as a sudden thought struck her.

Generous? Was he being generous? Or was he testing her in some way?

Remembering the way he’d teased her, she suddenly realised that it was far more likely that there was a deeper, darker reason for the choice of clothes.

Angry with herself for being so naïve, she glared at her reflection in the mirror.

This wasn’t generosity on his part.

He wanted her to feel uncomfortable.

He wanted her out of her depth.

Apparently he found the unfortunate chemistry between them entertaining and he didn’t bother to pretend otherwise. But nor was he allowing her to pretend. He was upfront and straight about the attraction.

And she was honest enough with herself to admit that she was on dangerous ground. Alessio wasn’t a man that women could easily ignore. He was, quite simply, the most devastatingly attractive man she’d ever met. Sinfully handsome, he had a way of looking at a woman that made her think of nothing but sex.

And it wasn’t just looks. If it had been, perhaps she would have found him easier to resist, but his sharp intelligence made him stimulating company and she was finding it impossible to forget how kind he’d been to her on the plane when she’d been ill.

That kindness had been all the more surprising given his reputation.

If she was honest, the chemistry between them was starting to terrify her.

She, of all people, knew the dangers of that degree of chemistry—she knew just how easy it was to confuse overwhelming physical attraction with something deeper. And yet, even knowing that, her body still hummed and simmered and responded to the lazy, suggestive glint in his eyes.