Di Sione's Virgin Mistress (The Billionaire's Legacy 5)

‘My name is Dante Di Sione and I’m Willow’s guest for the wedding,’ interjected Dante, and Willow saw Flora almost melt as his sensual lips curved into a lazy smile. ‘Didn’t she tell you I was coming?’

‘No,’ said Flora crisply. ‘No, she did not. We weren’t...well, we weren’t expecting her to bring anyone—and as a consequence we’ve made no special allowances. Which means you’ll be in Willow’s old bedroom, I’m afraid.’

‘And is there a problem with Willow’s old bedroom?’ he questioned.

‘I would say there is, especially for a man of your dimensions.’ Flora looked Dante up and down, as if shamelessly assessing his height. ‘There’s only a single bed.’

Willow wanted to curl up and die, and that was before Dante moved his hand from her neck to place it proprietarily over her thigh. He smiled up at her sister as he pressed his fingers into her flesh. ‘Great,’ he murmured. ‘I do love a good squeeze.’

This clearly wasn’t the reaction Flora had expected and the sight of Dante with his hand on her sister’s leg must have confused the life out of her. But a lifetime of social training meant that her irritation didn’t last long and she made an instant recovery. ‘If you’d like to park over by the stables, Dante.’ She flashed him a glossy smile. ‘Once you’ve settled in we’ll be serving coffee in the drawing room and you’ll be able to meet my mother. Oh, and you’ll have to try on your bridesmaid dress again, Willow—though I warn you that Clover is going to go ballistic if you’ve lost any more weight! And don’t you think you ought to put a cardigan on? Your arms are covered in goose bumps.’

Dante started up the engine as they watched Flora walk into the main entrance of the grand house. Her blond hair swung down her back in a glossy curtain and she walked with the confident wiggle of a beautiful woman who knew she was being watched.

‘So that’s one of your sisters,’ he said slowly as she disappeared through the open front door.

‘Yes.’ Willow nodded her head. So get in first, she thought. Say all the stuff he must be thinking and that way you won’t come over as vulnerable. ‘I told you my siblings were gorgeous, didn’t I? And Flora especially so. Every man she meets falls in love with her. I...I think maybe she’s single at the moment, though you can never be...’

‘Willow.’ He halted her flow of words by placing his finger firmly over her lips. ‘Will you please shut up? I may have something of a reputation where women are concerned but even I would draw the line at going to a wedding with one sister, and then making out with another.’

‘Not taking into account the fact that she might not be interested in you,’ she said indignantly.

‘No, of course not,’ he murmured as he started up the engine. ‘She was looking at me with nothing but cool indifference in her eyes.’

Willow couldn’t decide whether to pull him up for his arrogance or simply acknowledge that he was telling the truth, because Flora had been looking at him as if she’d like to eat him up for breakfast, lunch and dinner and then maybe go back for a midnight snack. And yet he had been kissing her, hadn’t he? Kissing her in a way she’d never been kissed before. She could still recall the fizzing excitement in her blood and the way she’d wanted to dissolve beneath his seeking fingers. She’d wanted him to carry on burrowing his fingers beneath her dress and to touch her where she was all hot and aching. Would he laugh or be horrified if he knew she’d never felt like that before? Would he be horrified to discover that she’d never actually had sex be

fore?

They parked the car and she led Dante through the house by one of the back doors, beginning to realise what a big gamble she’d taken by bringing him here. Was he really a good enough actor to pretend to be interested in her when there was going to be so much Grade One crumpet sashaying around the place in their killer heels?

She pushed open the door of her old bedroom, the room where she had spent so much of her childhood—and immediately it felt like stepping back in time. It always did. It made her feel weird and it made her feel small. Little had changed since she’d left home, and whenever she came here, it felt as if her past had been preserved in aspic—and for the first time, she began to question why. Had her parents’ refusal to redecorate been based on a longstanding wish not to tempt fate by changing things around?

Willow looked around. There was the portrait done of her when she was six—years before the illness had taken hold—with a blue sparkly clip in her blond hair. How innocent she looked. How totally oblivious to what lay ahead. Next to it was the first embroidery she’d ever done—a sweet, framed cross-stitch saying Home Sweet Home. And there were her books—row upon row of them—her beloved connection to the outside world and her only real escape from the sickroom, apart from her sewing. Later on, she’d discovered films—and the more slushy and happy-ever-after, the better. Because fantasy had been a whole lot better than reality.

Sometimes it had felt as if she’d been living in a gilded cage, even though she knew there had been good reasons for that—mainly to keep her away from any rogue infections. But her inevitable isolation and the corresponding protectiveness of her family had left her ill-equipped to deal with certain situations. Like now. She’d missed out on so much. Even at college she’d been watched over and protected by Flora and Clover, who had both been studying at the same university. For a long time she’d only had the energy to deal with maintaining her health and completing her studies and getting a decent degree—she hadn’t had the confidence to add men into the mix, even if she’d found anyone attractive enough.

And she had never found anyone as attractive as Dante Di Sione.

She watched him put their bags down and walk over to the window to stare out at the wide green-grey sweep of the Sussex Downs, before turning to face her—his incredible lapis lazuli eyes narrowed. She waited for him to make some comment about the view, or to remark on the massive dimensions of her rather crumbling but beautiful old home, but to her surprise he did neither.

‘So,’ he said, beginning to walk towards her with stealthy grace. ‘How long have we got?’

‘Got?’ she repeated blankly, not quite sure of his meaning even when he pulled her into his arms and started trailing his fingertips over her body so that she began to shiver beneath the filmy fabric of her delicate dress. ‘For...for what?’

Dante smiled, but it was a smile edged with impatience and a danger that even Willow could recognise was sexual.

‘That depends on you, and what you want.’

‘What I want?’ she said faintly.

‘Forgive me if I’m mistaken, but I thought that you were as frustrated by your sister’s interruption as I was. I was under the distinct impression that our fake relationship was about to get real, and in a very satisfying way. It would certainly be more convincing if we were properly intimate instead of just pretending to be. So are we going to play games with each other or are we going to give in to what we both clearly want?’ he murmured as he began to stroke her breasts. ‘And have sex?’

Willow quivered as her nipples tightened beneath his expert touch and even though his words were completely unromantic...even though they were the direct opposite of all those mushy rom-coms she used to watch—they were still making her feel something, weren’t they? They were making her feel like a woman. A real woman—not some pale and bloodless creature who’d spent so much time being hooked up to an intravenous drip, while cocktails of drugs were pumped into her system.

Yet this hadn’t been what she’d planned when she’d rashly demanded he accompany her here. She’d thought they were engaging in nothing more than an indifferent barter of things they both wanted. Unless she wasn’t being honest with herself. Face the truth, Willow. And wasn’t the truth that from the moment she’d seen him walk into the Caribbean airport terminal, her body had sprung into life with a feeling of lust like she’d never felt before? In which case—why was she hesitating? Wasn’t this whole trip supposed to be about changing her life around? To start living like other women her age did.

She tipped up her face so that he could kiss her again. ‘Have sex,’ she said boldly, meeting the flicker of humour in his smoky blue gaze.

He smiled and then suddenly what was happening did feel like a fantasy. Like every one of those mushy films she’d watched. He picked her up and carried her across the room, placing her down on the bed and pausing only to remove the battered old teddy bear that used to accompany her everywhere. She felt a wave of embarrassment as he pushed the bear onto the floor, but then he was bending his lips to hers and suddenly he was kissing her.