The Italian's Virgin Acquisition

‘Determined.’

Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘You know you’re in the ladies’ loo right?’

His grin widened. ‘I’m aware.’

‘Well, I was having a private moment, and I’d like to go back to it.’

‘It looks like you were about to have a meltdown. But you shouldn’t. In my world women know what they want and go after it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

A shiver snaked down her spine. ‘Why does that sound so cold?’

His half-smile turned mocking. ‘I don’t have a problem with it and I won’t think badly of you for taking my offer.’

‘You’re all heart.’

‘Actually, I’m all business.’

‘Yes, well, it’s an awful lot of money.’

‘It isn’t to me.’

Poppy shook her head. ‘You could sound a little humble when you say that,’ she said, a touch of exasperation in her tone.

‘Why? It’s the truth. I’m a wealthy man. That brings with it certain perks.’

‘Like buying fake girlfriends.’

His green eyes glittered down into hers. He was too tall for her. His grandparents would notice that right away. ‘I think I might have insulted you when I offered you five hundred thousand pounds,’ he said.

Poppy blinked, hearing that figure again. Five hundred thousand was an amount of money she had never thought to see in one lump sum in her lifetime. The temptation to take it was wicked, and she finally understood those fairy tales where the hapless princess was lured to her doom by the evil villain. ‘Yes, you did,’ she murmured, holding firm to her flagging principles. ‘Because I—’

‘So I’m willing to up it to a million.’

‘I am not—Did you just say a million pounds?’

He smiled at her smugly, victory lighting his green eyes. ‘I did.’

Poppy stared at him blankly. She was sure that what he was offering must be immoral, and if she said yes she’d be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, expecting to see someone pointing a finger and accusing her of coming by the money unethically. It would be like being back at school all over again, when kids had whispered behind her back and called her ‘Poor Poopy Poppy’. The memory put some much-needed steel in her voice. ‘Stop. I already told you that I’m not for sale.’

His smiled dimmed and he stared at her for a long, tense minute before releasing a harsh breath. ‘But you are exactly what I need. Okay, what do you want, then? What’s your end goal?’

Poppy’s head was spinning with so many pound signs she doubted she could even spell ‘end goal’ right now. She frowned. Did merely surviving each day count as an end goal? ‘I don’t really think in terms of end goals,’ she said.

‘Then you should start.’ He paced away from her and glared at his reflection in the mirror with distaste. Or was that her reflection he was glaring at? ‘Can we take this back to my office?’ He held the door open for her, automatically expecting her to obey his request, his commanding demeanour suggesting that if she didn’t he’d be happy to make her. ‘The ladies’ bathroom is hardly the place to have this conversation.’

Poppy stopped beside him. ‘I’d rather not have this conversation at all.’

‘I can see that. Be careful you don’t knock yourself on the door.’

He steered her around the door she’d nearly walked into and Poppy found herself reluctantly seated on the opposite side of his desk before she thought better of it.

‘So, if a lump sum is too difficult a concept for you to grasp, let’s get to what it is that you do want.’

Too many things to count, Poppy thought, but none she would share with him. Especially not the number of wakeful hours she had spent last night reliving every hard angle of his torso. Sheesh! She had even imagined what it would have felt like if she had stretched up onto her toes and kissed him. ‘I don’t want anything.’

Sebastiano snorted at her prim response. ‘That’s patently untrue. Everyone wants something.’ He glared at her. ‘Even me. In fact, I find myself in the rare position of being a desperate man. So, what is it going to take, bella, to get you to give me one weekend out of your life to help an old man?’

Poppy’s gaze sharpened. ‘Is your grandfather unwell?’