Taken by the Highest Bidder

His kiss on her wrist was like fire licking her veins. She shivered, breathless, heart thumping, tension growing. She was scared. Scared of all she didn’t know. Scared of all she’d never had. Scared of all she’d never done right.

And as his lips traveled across her inner wrist again, the fire raced from her wrist to her belly and legs, making her ache in places she hadn’t thought she could ache. Somehow he made her feel so empty, empty and restless and she didn’t know how to quiet the need.

She felt his gaze and sucked in a breath as she looked up into his face. In his eyes she saw hunger and interest.

He wanted her.

Sam shuddered again, goose bumps covered her skin. Her mouth dried, her heart slowed and it took an effort to clear her head, gather her thoughts, put a tight leash on her emotions.

“After we cut the cake, we’ll be leaving the villa,” Cristiano said, releasing her hand to refill her wineglass. “I’ve had our staff pack you an overnight bag so there’s nothing you have to do.”

“We’re leaving the villa?”

“We can’t very well honeymoon here.”

“A honeymoon,” she echoed faintly.

His gaze narrowed slightly, his expression revealing amusement. “It is our wedding night.”

Oh, yes, back to all the things she didn’t know. Sam’s pulse quickened, fueled by nerves and fear and adrenaline. “What about Gabby?”

“Marcelle will be staying with her and all the villa staff dote on her. We won’t be gone long. Just a night or two.”

A night or two. Alone, all alone, with Cristiano. It wasn’t a death sentence but it was terrifying.

Sam’s head swam and it had nothing to do with the Pinot Noir they were drinking.

But before Sam could dissolve into puddles of panic, Chef Sacchi appeared from the kitchen rolling out a trolley with the most gorgeous three-tiered wedding cake Sam had ever seen.

The white-haired chef handed the decorated knife to Sam. “Madame,” he said. “White chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousse, covered in white chocolate frosting and handcrafted gum paste seashells and roses.”

Gabby came running back in followed by Marcelle who’d brought a camera.

And it struck Sam as Cristiano’s hand covered hers and they cut the wedding cake together, that this was a real wedding, as real as her wedding to Charles all those years ago. Gabby begged for the edible shells and roses and Cristiano fed her a bite of cake, and as he put the piece between her lips, he let his fingertip linger on her bottom lip.

His touch made her tremble. She could barely get herself to chew and swallow.

“I think,” he drawled, leaning close, “it’s time we left and had a little time for ourselves.”

Their honeymoon destination wasn’t far. Cristiano had booked them one of the luxurious suites at the Hermitage in Monaco, where the famous five-star hotel dominated Square Beaumarchais and overlooked the port and the famous Winter Garden.

Sam had spent so much time with Cristiano away from crowds that she’d forgotten how the public responded to him. But the moment they stepped from his one-of-a-kind Italia Motors sports car in front of the Hermitage, to the moment they reached the door of their suite, people stopped, murmured, nodded, smiled, stared. Some even followed. One or two were bold enough to ask for autographs.

He was a huge celebrity. People knew him, and people were equally fascinated by him, and it jolted her more than a little. She’d remarried, and not just any man, but someone the public adored.

Inside their three-room suite, Cristiano locked the door and shrugged off his coat. In the living room the lights were already soft, music played from the suite’s stereo system, and champagne chilled on ice.

Cristiano headed into the kitchen where vases of roses awaited them and a card from the hotel management welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Cristiano Bartolo to the hotel.

“Hungry?” Cristiano asked teasingly, swinging the refrigerator door open in the suite and revealing the platters of delicacies awaiting them—cheeses, patés, exotic fruits, chocolate-dipped strawberries.

Sam groaned, covered her eyes. “I can’t even look at that. I think I’d die if I had to eat anything else.”