Her Guardian's Christmas Seduction

“You might have noticed the house next door has burned to a crisp?”

“The house next door? Bashir?” Antonio nodded grimly. “I thought your name was familiar. You’re one of the people responsible for letting that historic property go up in flames?”

“Yes,” she said simply. For she was. “It was an electrical fault.”

“Not surprising. I heard some of the wires dated back to the turn of the twentieth century.”

She grimaced. “It was on my list of things to do,” she said.

“You’re as rich as Croesus, or so I’ve been told. Why the hell didn’t you get it seen to sooner?”

She thought of sweet Alastair, who’d adored the home just as it was, even with its buzzing electricity and slow-to-respond lights, and a wistful smile blew across her face. “Silly reasons, really, in retrospect.” She wrapped her arms around her waist now, staving off the coldness of the kitchen and the grim chill of her thoughts.

“In any event,” she said with a small shake of her head, “the charity Ball I host every year will need a new venue.”

He had listened to her patiently, a little distracted, actually, by the way her breasts were pressed against the fabric of her coat, and the way her face infused with passionate colour as she spoke, but now, he forced himself to pay closer attention. “Surely you can’t be suggesting Ravens Manor as an alternative?”

“Actually,” she said with a wry smile, “that’s exactly what I’m suggesting. And I should warn you, I don’t intend to take no for an answer.”

CHAPTER TWO

ANTONIO LEANED BACK AGAINST the fridge, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I don’t like the idea of opening my property, and life, to strangers. I can’t help you, Lady Sanderson.”

“Call me Elizabeth,” she said automatically. The title had always felt heavy around her neck. She used it only as needs must, such as she had done that day.

“Elizabeth,” he repeated, his accent slight as he repeated her name. “It is quite impossible.”

She had expected objections. She was not deterred. “You haven’t even heard me out,” she said reasonably.

“I don’t need to,” he said, his eyes boring into hers. “The last thing any of us need is an army of attention seeking socialites dragging the spotlight onto the Casacellis. Again. This family has had enough drama for a lifetime.”

Elizabeth had no recollection of any such fuss. Then again, raising her daughter and running Alastair’s foundation had taken up most of her free time. She wasn’t sure she even knew who the president of the United States was. Whatever scandal had attached itself to this Adonis – and she was in no doubt women, and therefore all sorts of broken hearted mess – had paved his past, she didn’t frankly care.

“It won’t involve drama. I’ll keep your name out of it.”

His smile was derisive. “Hardly possible.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “You obviously think rather highly of yourself and your importance.”

He narrowed his laser like stare. “I was raised a Casacelli. I’ve never doubted the interest our family generates. It is a double edged sword. One I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

She dipped her head in silent concession to the point he had made. She used her title and status as a society princess to further the aims of Alastair’s foundation though. Which made any inconvenience associated with her high-profile totally tolerable.

“It’s for a good

cause,” she said, trying another tack. Surely a man such as this would have a conscience somewhere beneath his chiselled chest?

He made a grunt of disdain. “I’m sure. Women like you always have a good cause to rally behind.” He pushed up from where he was leaning, a study of casual elegance. “Does it make you feel good about an otherwise vapid existence? To put your name behind a charity or something?”

A cold stone of pain lodged somewhere in Elizabeth’s ribcage as she digested his words. “You think I’m just a bored housewife, looking for a bit of feel-good titillation?”

He walked with a languid grace, slowly bringing himself within a few feet of her. “You tell me.”

“It’s not like that.” She tried to focus on the prize. She needed a venue. Arrogant piece of judgemental meanie aside, Ravens Manor was still the best option. Her voice was shaky when she spoke. Elizabeth had never enjoyed confrontation, but that didn’t mean she’d shy away from a fight. “You must have heard of the ball? It’s an institution.”

Up close, she couldn’t help but be mesmerised by his face. It really was spectacularly unfair that someone with such a horrible personality should be so stunningly blessed in the looks department. Unconsciously, she stepped back a little.

Antonio’s smile was pure hot lava. “I live in Rome. British society events don’t hold much sway for me.”