The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin

‘That’s quite a name.’ Savannah laughed as she tried to say it, stumbling over the unfamiliar Italian words, acutely conscious as she did so that Ethan was watching her lips move.

‘Not bad,’ he said, congratulating her on her accent.

‘What does it mean?’ Savannah found that she badly wanted to hold Ethan’s attention.

‘It means “the Palace of the Golden Sunset”.’

He hadn’t meant to enter into conversation with her, but how could he not when she glowed with pleasure at the smallest thing? It reminded him, of course, of how very young she was, but even so he couldn’t subdue the urge to tell her about a home he loved above all his others.

‘It sounds so romantic!’ she exclaimed, her eyes turning dreamy.

‘Yes, it’s a very old and very beautiful building.’ He knew he was being drawn in, but he would never forget his first sight of the palazzo, and he’d had no one to share it with before. ‘The towers glow rose-pink at sunset,’ he explained, though he left out the emotional angle, which had entailed a longing to own the ancient palazzo that had come from the depths of his soul.

‘The palazzo is located in a glorious valley blessed with sunlight, and the medieval village surrounding it is inhabited by wonderful peopl

e who appreciate the simple things in life.’ And who had taken him to their heart, he remembered with gratitude. As he tried to convey something of this passion to Savannah without becoming overly sentimental, she remained silent and alert, as if what he didn’t say told her everything she needed to know.

She confirmed this, saying softly when he had finished, ‘You’re even luckier than I thought.’

‘Yes, well…’ He left the statement hanging, feeling he’d gone too far. He wasn’t a man to brag about his possessions, or even mention them.

Ethan was full of surprises. His sensitivity was obvious once he started talking about the palazzo. He flew planes, he rode bikes, he drove powerboats, and he had a perfect command of the Italian language. The thought that he did everything well and was capable of such passion sent a frisson of arousal shimmering through her.

Which she would put a stop to right away! Savannah’s sensible inner voice commanded. It was one thing to fantasise about sexual encounters with Ethan, but quite another to consider the reality of it when she was saving her virginity for some sensible, ‘steady Eddie’ type of bloke, and then only when they were married.

‘Are you too warm?’ Ethan asked, misreading the flush that rose to her cheeks as she moved restlessly on the seat. ‘I can easily adjust the temperature for you.’

Savannah bit her lip to hide her smile.

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded suspiciously.

What was so funny? Ethan was the man most women had voted to go to bed with, and she was the woman most men had decided not to go to bed with—that was funny, wasn’t it?

‘I asked you a question, Savannah.’

The easy atmosphere that had so briefly existed between them had suddenly gained an edge.

‘Is it my scars?’ he pressed. ‘Do they make you nervous?’

Ethan had read her all wrong, Savannah realised. He was so far off the mark, she shook her head in shock. ‘Of course they don’t.’ It was no use, because Ethan wasn’t listening.

‘Is that why you’re trying so hard not to laugh?’ he demanded.

‘I’ve told you, no!’ She held his gaze. There must be no doubt over this. She would be the first to admit she was overawed by Ethan, and that he even frightened her a little, but those feelings were all tied up in his worldliness contrasted with her own inexperienced sexual-self, and had not the slightest connection with his scars. If he thought she was shallow enough to be intimidated by them…Savannah shook her head with disgust at the thought. As far as she was concerned, Ethan’s terrible scars were just a reminder that even the strongest tree could be felled. ‘I see the man, not the scars,’ she told him bluntly.

In the confines of the limousine his short, disbelieving laugh sounded cruel and hard.

That had to come from some memory in his past, Savannah reassured herself, refusing to rise to the bait. Sometimes it was better to say nothing, she was learning, and to persuade Ethan she was more than the fluffy girl he thought her would take action, not words. She had been raised on a working farm and knew the value of hard work. She was used to getting her hands dirty and wasn’t frightened of much.

Just as well, Savannah reflected as Ethan turned away with a face like thunder to continue his conversation with the driver, because there was nothing easy about Ethan Alexander. But whatever Ethan’s opinion of her, she would stand up for herself. Perhaps he had learned that much about her. If nothing else this journey was giving them both the opportunity to learn a little more about each other. What she’d learned might not be reassuring, but it hadn’t put her off Ethan either—in fact, quite the reverse.

CHAPTER SIX

AS THEY approached the end of the journey they sat in silence, and Ethan could sense Savannah’s unease. For all her excitement at the thought of seeing his palazzo, she was wondering what she had got herself into. He had always been intuitive. His mother had told him he was keenly tuned, close to the earth and all its mystery. She’d told him that before the crystal sphere she’d kept next to her bed told her to marry for the fourth time, apparently. At seven years old he had begged her not to do it, believing it would be a disastrous move for his mother and for himself. She had ignored him and the marriage had been a disaster. So much for his mother’s belief in his special powers. The beatings had begun the day his new ‘daddy’ had arrived back from their honeymoon. He’d gone away to school that September, and had been the only boy in his class relieved to be living away from home.

And why was he remembering that now? He moved so that Savannah was no longer in his eyeline in the mirror. Was it because for the first time since his rugby career had been ended he wished he could be unblemished inside and out? Was it because Savannah Ross was too innocent to know the ugliness inside him?

Realising he was only paying attention to half the things his driver was telling him, he made some token comment and started watching Savannah again. She looked so small and vulnerable, sitting all alone on a sea of cream leather. The Bentley was the right scale for a man his size, but she was dwarfed by it. And she was a distraction he couldn’t afford, he warned himself, especially if he was going to remain aloof from her when they reached their destination.