His Cinderella's One-Night Heir

Back in her bedroom she was greeted by three women with mobile racks of clothing and cases of other items. Her size established, she didn’t get away with being shy. She donned elaborate silky lingerie while the most senior woman muttered about a good foundation for clothing being very important to an elegant appearance. Then she had to model outfit after outfit while the women argued amongst themselves about which colours and designs best suited her. She had never seen such beautiful, expensive material before or garments put together with so exceptional a finish and fit. But considering that Dante only required her to play his girlfriend for one weekend, she couldn’t credit the sheer size and diversity of the wardrobe that he evidently deemed necessary. She recalled that she would have to live her role in his home for a few days beforehand but still rolled her eyes at his extravagance. Only when she saw her unfamiliar reflection in a mirror did she stop rolling her eyes and stop worrying about what he had chosen to spend.

There she was garbed in a very slightly sparkly blue dress that might have been specially designed for her, shoestring straps adorning her shoulders, a superbly designed backless bra restraining her exuberant breasts, the hemline swirling well above her knees, her feet shod in perilously high sandals. She looked taller, slimmer, less overwhelmingly busty and she breathed a little easier, grabbing up the clutch that toned with the shoes to go down the stairs.

* * *

‘Very classy...’ Dante pronounced approvingly, watching her descent from below, and yet there was the strangest kernel of disappointment at the heart of his reaction. He realised in surprise that on some level he had liked the untamed curls, the youthful eccentric clothes, and that truth shook him. Indisputably, Belle looked more gorgeous than the first time he had seen her but somehow, inexplicably, she had been hotter and sexier in her own natural style.

‘You’re getting what you paid for,’ Belle fielded with an awkward shrug.

His dark deep-set eyes flared with golden highlights. ‘Don’t dwell on that aspect. It’s not important.’

Dante studied her long shapely legs and imagined lifting the skirt and running his hands up those slim, smooth thighs. A very faint shudder ran through him as he stamped down hard on that lusty image and attempted to quell the heat at his groin while reminding himself that he wasn’t going to go there, wasn’t going to yield to that kind of dangerous impulse. Of course, he would have to touch her. In the roles they were playing, a certain amount of physical contact was unavoidable, but he would ensure that it was only enough to give a superficial if convincing impression.

In the lift, the lustrous glow of Dante’s stunning eyes sent tiny little tremors travelling up through Belle’s legs. She felt weak, dizzy, and the lift felt claustrophobic. At the very heart of her she could feel a pulse pounding out her tension like a drum while her breasts ached beneath her clothing. Attraction, just stupid body chemistry, she told herself dismissively as she climbed into the back of the glossy limousine awaiting them.

The silence hummed as she gazed back at him, every nerve ending in her body tight with tension. His eyes were brilliant gold, striking, utterly compelling and she swallowed hard. Dante succumbed to a ‘what the hell?’ prompt, because he had never been into self-denial. How the blazes could they hope to pretend to be lovers if he had yet to even touch her? he asked himself. That was nonsense. That decision forged, he reached out a hand and she clasped it, allowing him to propel her across the seat into his arms. She went without even having to think about it, her heart pounding so fast she felt light-headed.

His big hands framing her face, he kissed her with so much hunger she was blown away by the experience. Her heart raced even faster, her body tense and throbbing on the edge of an anticipation she had never felt before. Her tense fingers clenched into the collar of his jacket. He crushed her lips with a groan and his tongue stole between them, delving deep for a skilful exploration that acted like a wake-up call for every fibre of her being. Nobody had ever made her feel what he was making her feel and it was wildly unexpected and unbelievably exciting, and the experience engulfed her like an avalanche. She was in over her head before she knew it.

‘Bad timing, amante,’ Dante growled, his hips arching up slightly as she braced a steadying hand on a lean masculine thigh, dangerously close to the tented fabric doing a very poor job of concealing his excitement. For the first time in his life he wanted a woman to be bold and he waited for a split second; however, frustratingly, she made no move. ‘I can tell the driver to drive us around...’

That suggestion spooked Belle. She moistened her swollen lower lip, her attention locked to his reddened mouth, her entire being, it seemed, caught up in the need for him to touch her again and satisfy the surge of need that had come out of nowhere to make her tremble and perspire. ‘Er...’

‘Madonna mia... Ti voglio... I want you,’ Dante framed raggedly, claiming her ripe lips with his again at the same time as he pressed her hand to the part of him that most craved her attention.

Her fingers spread across the fabric, hesitantly tracing the long thick length of him through the fine fabric of his trousers, and that suddenly she was into frighteningly unfamiliar territory because she never ever played the tease, never encouraged where she had no plans to deliver, but just then she was dealing with a level of temptation new to her. No man had ever got her to the point where she wanted more than a kiss or even to the point where she truly wanted him. In a matter of minutes, Dante had accomplished both feats and shocked her witless because in his arms she was learning that even logical thought was more of a challenge than she could manage.

Her startled eyes flew up to his smouldering appraisal and she burned inside and out, her temperature climbing in direct response to the predatory hunger she saw in him and that on some level she actually craved. ‘I thought we were going to eat,’ she reminded him shakily, striving with a sense of cowardice to escape a situation that she knew she had helped to create because she hadn’t said no and she hadn’t pushed him away.

‘I can feed you back at the hotel,’ Dante husked, catching her hand in his as she backed away from him to prevent her retreat.

‘Sex isn’t part of our arrangement...is it?’ Belle demanded in sudden dismay.

‘Of course not,’ Dante assured her silkily, smoothing her small fingers in his to keep her close. ‘But what we choose to do outside those boundaries is our business alone.’

‘Er, well...yes, but I don’t think we should be getting too friendly,’ Belle mumbled in an awkward rush, trailing her hand free of his.

‘There has to be a certain degree of familiarity visible between us or nobody is ever going to believe that we’re lovers,’ Dante countered with reluctant amusement.

Belle hadn’t thought of that aspect of their pretend relationship and she wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it sooner because she had literally walked blind into a brick wall.

‘You seem very...nervous,’ Dante selected, scrutinising her troubled face with a growing frown. ‘I may want you but I promise that I’m not going to try to force you into anything you don’t want.’

Belle flushed and straightened her spine, embarrassed that she had made him feel that he had to give her that reassurance. ‘I know. But to be honest, er...I’m a bit out of my depth with you.’

‘How?’ Dante shifted lithely back into his corner, teeth gritting at the biting ache of unfulfillment nagging at him.

‘I haven’t got a lot of experience,’ Belle admitted stiffly. ‘I probably should’ve said no sooner.’

‘How much is “not a lot”?’ Dante prompted drily.

Belle sucked in a steadying breath. ‘I’d rather not go into that.’

‘You needn’t be shy, nor should you feel that you have to lie for my benefit,’ Dante murmured loftily. ‘I see women as equals. I prefer experienced partners.’

‘Well, then, I wouldn’t suit you at all!’ Belle confided in a tone of stark relief. ‘I haven’t had a, er, partner yet.’

That statem

ent disconcerted Dante so much that for a split second he simply frowned down at her with astonished dark golden eyes. ‘You can’t be a virgin!’

As he spoke the door beside him was abruptly opened by the driver and both of them were taken by surprise, neither of them having noticed that the car had stopped, and Belle was miraculously rescued from the need to respond to his incredulous statement. In his wake, she slid along the back seat, struggling to keep the skirt of her dress from lifting as she alighted. In what had to be her worst nightmare, just as she was attempting to keep her underwear choices a secret known only to her, the flashbulbs of cameras went off, blinding and disorientating her as she fought to climb out gracefully in her high heels. Mercifully, Dante saved her from a clumsy exit by reaching down to grab her hand with his and he practically pulled her up and out of the limo, giving her the chance to find her feet and discreetly smooth down her rucked frock.

In the crowded entrance foyer, so impervious to the presence of the photographers that he hadn’t even spared them a glance, Dante stared broodingly down at her and said again, proving that his mind was still on the conversation she had gratefully abandoned, ‘You can’t be...’

And Belle’s second-worst nightmare came true with those words. She felt the awful burn of that hot familiar tide of colour sweeping up her body in a mortifying tide.

‘And a blushing one,’ Dante pronounced in even greater disbelief. ‘You’re supposed to be as much of an urban legend as unicorns.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘WE’RE NOT GOING to discuss this any more,’ Belle told Dante heatedly as they were ushered through a crowded room of staring diners to a well-lit velvet-lined booth in the corner.