Resisting the Sicilian Playboy

* * *

Dara waited until they were back in the box before turning to him. She pressed one accusatory finger into his shoulder. The gesture made his eyes widen.

‘You could have warned me that I was walking into an episode of a soap opera, for goodness’ sake.’

‘I didn’t think it would benefit the situation if you were aware of my history with Umberto.’

‘No, you didn’t think it would benefit you.’ She turned away, fuming. ‘How did I not know that you were related? How is it not common knowledge?’

‘He is my mother’s younger brother. He made a point of removing himself from any connection to the Valente name when my mother passed away.’ He spoke matter-of-factly, anger evident in the hard set of his jaw.

Dara felt her anger deflate, taken by surprise by his candid statement. ‘That must have been very difficult.’

‘My mother died quite suddenly—she was only thirty-eight. The funeral was an ugly affair, and her family blamed my father. And me.’

‘Goodness, she was very young. Life can be cruel sometimes.’

Leo waved off her gentle comments. ‘I am merely divulging the facts to you—not looking for sympathy. I’ve had twelve years to get over it.’

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his designer tuxedo, a sardonic tilt to his brow. This was a man who kept his true feelings buried. She couldn’t imagine revealing her own painful memories in such a matter-of-fact fashion.

Dara thought of the way the two men had just stood toe to toe, eyes spitting fire at one another, in the glamorous gilded hallway of the teatro.

‘Leo, I’ve helped you to get your meeting. I’ve fulfilled my part of our bargain. We agreed that I would act as your date for tonight only.’

‘I can’t go alone to dinner. You will accompany me to keep up the pretence that we are an item. Gloria likes you, and she is the key to keeping the peace.’

Dara shifted uneasily on her feet, smoothing a hand over the smooth pearl satin of her gown. She had felt like a princess earlier, walking down the steps of the palazzo to find Leo leaning against the door of the limo, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. He looked sinfully handsome and powerful, and it was doing all kinds of strange things to her breathing every time he held her arm or looked at her with that smouldering dark gaze.

She needed to cut her losses before she did something stupid. One more night with Leo was a risk she couldn’t take.

He was watching her intently. ‘What is it that worries you, carina? That they won’t believe we are a couple? Because that won’t be a problem.’

‘It’s too risky. We know nothing about each other. What if they ask questions?’ she argued.

‘They won’t need to.’ He stepped closer. ‘Dara, we practically crackle every time we are alone together. The chemistry between us is quite obvious.’

‘It is?’ Dara felt a little dazed under his scrutiny.

‘Oh, yes.’ He lowered his voice. ‘We naturally react to each other. That’s not something that can be feigned easily and we can use it to our advantage.’

‘I don’t see how arguing with each other will make it seem that we are a couple.’

She turned away, fighting against herself. She was enjoying this little charade they had embarked upon. It was beginning to feel like an alternative reality to her hectic and rather solitary life in Syracuse.

‘Tension can be interpreted in many ways.’

Leo stepped behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath below her ear.

‘Physical signs are the first things that people notice. Unconscious displays of intimacy.’ He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

Dara’s breath caught in her chest at the effect of the innocent yet explosive contact on her already heightened senses.

‘So we hold hands and everything will be okay?’

‘There is no need to go over the top when subtlety will work much better. I might rest a hand on the small of your back while we talk. Display possession.’

Dara tried to focus on his words, but all she could think about was how hard and warm his hand felt surrounding hers. It had been so long since she’d had her hand held.

She shook off that warm fuzzy thought. She tried to seem blasé, barely noticing his movement until she felt his hand slide sensually low on her spine.

‘What are you doing?’ she squeaked.

‘Dara, no one will believe this if your voice rises an entire octave every time I touch you,’ he whispered in her ear as they were re-joined by the other guests in their box.