The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella
Dante was too far from her to see her features clearly but even with the distance between them a charge flowed, encircling them, tightening them in its grip...
God alone knew what would have happened if Ciro hadn’t appeared at that moment from behind the bar with Dante’s phone.
‘I was about to bring this to you,’ he said, handing it to him.
Dante took it and turned on his heel.
A cold shower had never felt more necessary.
* * *
Aislin closed the zip of her new super-posh suitcase, wishing she had something to calm the butterflies playing havoc in her stomach. They weren’t even butterflies, more like giant moths.
He
r moonlit conversation with Dante still played in her mind but its vividness was outshone by the memory of glancing up to find he’d returned to the terrace.
The look that had been in his eyes...
The charge that had flashed through her body and raised her heartbeat... It burned her skin.
All night she’d tossed and turned, unable to settle, thoughts of Dante taking full occupancy in her mind.
The morning had brought no relief. She’d done her best over breakfast to pretend everything was fine, that she was fine, but had been helpless to stop her cheeks flushing whenever she met his gaze.
Thankfully he’d surprised her straight after by getting Ciro to take her to Palermo’s most exclusive hair salon.
She hadn’t seen Dante since.
She’d returned to his home and called Orla. After a long chat that had left Aislin with mixed feelings at what Orla had asked her to do, she’d donned the first of her weekend designer outfits.
When she had slid the new black lacy knickers up her thighs, she’d been helpless to stop her mind running riot, imagining Dante sliding them back off.
The days with him had found her imagination going into overdrive where he was concerned, but now she found herself helpless to stop imagining his strong body covering hers, that sensuous mouth kissing flesh that came alive with nothing more than an overactive thought.
Restless, she stood in front of the mirror again and checked her appearance for the dozenth time.
Would he think her suitably dressed for a society weekend with many of Europe’s richest and most powerful people in attendance? He kept stressing how he wanted her only to be herself but she didn’t want to embarrass him. She didn’t want people looking at them and asking themselves what the hell he saw in her. She wanted him to be proud to have her by his side.
A loud rap on her bedroom door set her heart thumping.
Smoothing down her newly glossy hair and checking her make-up hadn’t smudged—she’d used her emergency credit card to purchase a load of it after her hair had been done—she inhaled deeply and opened the door.
Dante’s heart slammed into his ribs.
The slightly scruffy untamed beauty he’d last seen at breakfast had been transformed. Figure-hugging black jeans wrapped in a wide diamond-studded belt were topped with a loose striped multicoloured shirt and a smart fitted navy jacket. On her feet were un-scuffed black ankle boots with diamonds running up the heels that were a couple of inches higher than her usual boots. Her hair had been cut subtly, the style the same as before but a little neater, smoother, framing her face in a way that enhanced her high cheekbones and striking eyes.
Her raspberry-coloured lips had a sheen to them, making them appear plumper and even more kissable...
‘Do I look okay?’ she asked with the touch of anxiety he was coming to recognise.
Realising he’d been staring, Dante composed himself. ‘You look great.’
‘Are you sure? You said to dress casually for the trip over. Would a dress be better?’
‘No, dolcezza, what you’re wearing suits you. You look elegantly casual.’ And ravishingly sexy, he thought with an ache that went all the way through his bones.
She blew out a breath and laughed. ‘That’s a relief, although elegant might be an adjective too far. I nearly put a dress on but I’m not ready to get my legs out yet—they haven’t seen the sun in years! They’re so white I’m going to have to put some self-tanning lotion on them.’