Rafaello's Mistress

‘Not in lifts or on desks,’ Glory agreed shakily, sliding off the wooden surface in haste and smoothing her rucked clothing down with trembling hands.

‘I wasn’t actually planning to consummate our agreement on the library desk—’

Too self-conscious to look at him, her cheeks hotter than hellfire, Glory shrugged a slight shoulder in a jerky, defensive motion. ‘How was I supposed to know what you were planning? You embarrassed me—’

‘Tell me, do you know what foreplay is?’

If Glory had been feeling overheated before he said that in the charged tone of a male trying hard not to laugh at what he obviously found amusing, her temperature hit boiling point in receipt of that mocking enquiry.

‘I do know you’re not talking about golf, if that’s what you mean!’ she launched back at him angrily, bright blue eyes sparking fierily. ‘But I’m not here to be the butt of your smart-mouth comments, Rafaello Grazzini—’

‘And you’re not here to cavort on my desk either. Sorry, couldn’t resist it, cara,’ Rafaello drawled, lean, strong face expressionless. ‘I think what we need here is a list—’

‘A…what?’

‘Of places where sexual activity is forbidden. And, while we’re on the subject, possibly you ought to consider throwing in news of any other strong aversions before I share a bed with you.’

Encountering those brilliant, beautiful dark eyes, Glory paled. ‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’

‘No, I’m fascinated. In my entire experience of women, I have never had a conversation quite like this,’ Rafaello assured her, smooth as silk. ‘It looks as if your mother is going to have the last laugh on me after all. And please do not take that comment as any form of insult to her memory.’

Glory swallowed hard. Her throat thickened. She felt more like bursting into tears. Just then she did not need the reminder of her late mother. Not on the very night she was being expected to abandon those principles. She saw that nerves and shyness had made her overreact to an unfamiliar and seemingly threatening situation. He had only wanted to kiss her, maybe touch her a little. But she had thrown a three-act tragedy and made an ass of herself in the process.

‘I’m glad I’ve given you a laugh,’ she muttered, cut to the bone.

Rafaello released his breath on a slight hiss and reached for her tightly knotted fingers to urge her back to him. She moved only when the pressure got too much to withstand. With a rueful groan, he murmured, ‘I wasn’t laughing—’

‘You were,’ she mumbled tightly, the tears threatening.

‘You’re wearing a real in-your-face sexy outfit. I didn’t think a woman who dressed like that would take fright quite so easily,’ Rafaello admitted above her downbent head.

‘I did not take fright,’ Glory bit out in a driven tone, picturing a panicking Victorian spinster screaming on a stool at the sight of a mouse.

‘OK…you took offence, but it’s over,’ Rafaello rephrased in his deep, husky drawl. ‘Go on upstairs. After I’ve called your father, I’ll join you.’

Glory froze, all her nervous tension returning. ‘Where?’

‘In my bedroom. Of course, you’ve never been upstairs. I’ll take you up—’

‘No, just tell me where,’ Glory interrupted tautly.

A phone began to ring. Rafaello released an imprecation in his own language, hesitated and then strode impatiently back over to the desk. ‘It’s my private line. I should answer it in case it’s something important.’

‘Where?’ she prompted again, grabbing up her coat and sticking her arms into the sleeves.

‘First door off the main landing. Stay,’ Rafaello urged as he reached for the phone and, studying her, he surprised her by stretching out an inviting hand.

Glory hovered. A smile curved his wide, expressive mouth, a smile full of heartbreaking charm. The smile that had once enslaved her heart as efficiently as chains. Her heartbeat quickening, she found herself returning to his side and reaching out to clasp that outstretched hand.

Rafaello’s grip on her fingers tightened. She glanced up

, saw the frownline indented between his brows and listened to him talk in what sounded like Italian. His tone was questioning and a faint look of irritation narrowed his incisive gaze. He replaced the receiver and released her hand again.

‘Fate seems to have it in for us tonight,’ Rafaello breathed with a wry look. ‘That was my father.’

‘Oh…?’ Glory tautened with unease.

‘He’s staying in London with friends this weekend. But he’s just informed me that he’ll be here in ten minutes to discuss some urgent matter that he insists cannot wait until tomorrow.’ Raking lean brown fingers through his thick black hair, Rafaello sighed. ‘Perhaps now that the novelty has worn off, he’s finding retirement a challenge. But he did sound troubled and that isn’t like him.’