The Innocent's One-Night Surrender

She heard Cristiano move and then she felt him come up behind her. Her breath froze in her lungs and her heart felt suspended in her chest. Every nerve was strung tight, every sense on overload. And he wasn’t even touching her.

Then Cristiano laid a hand on her shoulder. Even through the thick terrycloth robe she felt the press of his palm like a brand, a burn, and it took everything she had not to respond—although she didn’t even know how she would. Move closer or further away? Her body would betray her.

‘I should tell you now,’ he said in a soft voice, ‘That I abhor game playing of any kind. Every transaction I’ve had with a woman has been straightforward and intensely pleasurable. So, if you think you can gain something more from me than what I have already offered by playing the coy miss, think again.’

He squeezed her shoulder lightly, a warning, while Laurel’s mind spun. Everything he’d said was offensive, appalling. She didn’t even know how to begin to respond. A transaction? Intensely pleasurable? Coy miss? She nearly choked with affront at it all.

‘What exactly are you offering?’ she finally asked in a shaky voice when she’d managed to kick her mind back into gear and could form at least one coherent sentence. ‘Out of curiosity?’

* * *

At last, a straightforward question. And he would give a straightforward response. Finally they were getting somewhere.

‘My protection,’ Cristiano said as he stepped away from her, deciding he needed a little space to stay cool and level-headed. When he’d been standing behind her he’d inhaled her scent, something light and fresh, a hint of lemon and violets. He’d felt her heat, warm and seductive, and the desire to slip the robe from her shoulders and feel the silky skin underneath had been so strong his palms had itched. His body had ached.

‘Your protection?’ she repeated. He couldn’t quite gauge her tone, veering between tremulous and infuriated.

‘From Bavasso.’

She stayed where she stood, staring out at the darkness, a slight, slender figure swathed in dark blue. ‘Do I really need protection?’

‘For a short time, yes.’

‘And how can you protect me? By keeping me here?’

‘Initially, yes. Bavasso is like a child with a toy when it comes to women. The best way to get him to forget you is for you to be seen to belong to someone else.’ He paused, waiting for that to sink in, then continued, ‘Bavasso enjoys the use of my hotels and casinos. If he discovers that you are with me, he will not pursue you.’ Bavasso was a vicious man, but only with those weaker than him. Cristiano was confident Bavasso would not bother with Laurel once he realised she was off-limits. And he very much intended her to be off-limits...to anyone but him.

‘With you?’ Laurel’s jaw hardened, her mouth set in a line as she continued to stare out into the night. ‘Is that a euphemism?’

‘It is fact.’ Their affair was only a matter of time. Surely she realised that? Surely she felt it in the desire that shimmered and pulsed between them, an energy force neither of them could deny?

‘And so I exchange one man’s unwanted attention for another.’ She spoke flatly and Cristiano prickled with irritation. He did not believe his attention was so unwanted.

‘Again you are comparing me with Bavasso, and I will remind you of the contrast.’

‘Oh, you’re certainly more attractive,’ Laurel said as she turned around, true bitterness spiking her words. ‘I’ll grant you that. Although, Bavasso is good-looking in that “silver fox” kind of way.’ She tossed the words out, but beneath the blaze of anger he felt they’d cost her. ‘And your...seduction would no doubt be far more assured and deft,’ she added. ‘But it still amounts to the same thing.’

‘It does not.’ His whole body was twanging with both indignation and awareness. How dared she compare him to sly, sleek Bavasso? And how could he want her now, more than ever, when she was verbally repelling him as best she could?

Laurel lifted her chin, her eyes flashing blue-green fire. ‘Tell me how it doesn’t, then.’

Cristiano stared at her for a long moment, his jaw clenched, fists too. He felt angry, aware and wanting. ‘I told you before, I do not threaten. I certainly do not force. Trust me on that, Laurel.’

‘Why should I trust you on anything?’ she challenged. ‘And, in any case, there are different kinds of coercion.’ She looked away, a flush staining her cheeks, her teeth sinking provocatively into her full lower lip. Realisation dawned and bloomed inside him, making him smile. She wasn’t afraid of him forcing her. She was afraid she wouldn’t need to be forced.

‘Coercion?’ he asked softly. ‘Or seduction?’

She drew a shuddering breath, lifting her chin and tossing her hair back, forcing herself to meet his knowing gaze. Because he did know—he knew that she wanted him, just as he wanted her. Why she was fighting the attraction, however, remained a mystery. Was she holding out for more? ‘What else do you offer?’ she asked. ‘Besides protection?’

‘Pleasure.’ He watched her eyes flare, but to her credit she held his gaze. ‘Of that you can be certain.’

‘You are appallingly arrogant.’

‘Merely sure.’

She shook her head slowly. ‘And how long would this...arrangement between us last?’

‘As long as I want it to.’ He felt the first flickers of triumph, mingled with a strange and unsettling disappointment. After all her maidenly outrage, Laurel was acting exactly as he’d expected her to, needed her to...and he found he didn’t quite like it.

‘And how long would that be, do you think?’ she asked. Her eyes flashed and her lips trembled, fury and fear mingled together. ‘Judging from what I’ve read in the tabloids, your mistresses don’t last more than a week. And we are talking about me becoming your mistress, aren’t we? That’s the position I’m being interviewed for, isn’t it?’

‘Call it what you like.’ He’d had straightforward discussions with previous mistresses, but for some reason they hadn’t felt quite like this: so cold and mercenary. Although, mercenary was exactly how he’d always wanted to be, especially when it came to women. Any softer emotion, never mind actual love, was for fools. Fools like his father, who had been both fleeced and heartbroken by grasping women like Laurel’s mother and the wife before her. As for his own mother...

‘So for how long?’ she asked, a catch in her voice. ‘Roughly?’

Cristiano’s eyes narrowed. ‘For as long as it takes for Bavasso to be satisfied that you’re off-limits.’ And as long as he still wanted her.

‘It’s my safety you’re thinking of, is it?’

Now he was getting seriously irritated. ‘Among other things.’

‘How kind of you,’ she drawled, and he could not mistake her sarcasm. He watched her walk across the room, the sash of his robe trailing the ground, her long, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked like a young, hesitant queen and, in spite of everything, or perhaps because of it, for a moment he admired her.

‘Your safety is important to me,’ he said, ‘whether you believe it or not.’

‘Why should it be? I doubt you even thought of me once in the last ten years.’

‘Then you thought wrong.’

She stilled at his tone, which was quieter and more sincere than he’d meant it to be. ‘Any thoughts you’ve had of me can’t have been good ones,’ she said, her tone as quiet as his, and equally sincere. ‘Can they?’

‘Some were...interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ She turned around to face him. ‘I thought you might despise me, Cristiano.’

‘Despise is a strong word.’

‘Your father despises my mother.’

‘I am not my father and you are not your mother.’

‘No.’ She drew a quick breath. ‘But you’ve judged me just as you’ve judged her. Tarred us both with the same brush.’

‘And I have had obvious reason to do so. Are you telling me differently?’

She looked away. ‘You wouldn’t listen.’

Cristiano could not imagine any scenario that could excuse or explain her behaviour with Bavasso on the casino floor. ‘I’d listen,’ he said mildly, ‘but whether I believed you or not is another matter. In any case, why do you care what I think of you? Emotions have no place here, bella. This is about something else entirely. Something basic and very, very pleasurable.’ He started walking towards her slowly, and she stilled, trapped, mesmerised by his lazy yet purposeful words. Perhaps now it was time to show her just how pleasurable it all could be.

‘You paint such an appealing picture,’ Laurel said huskily. She didn’t move. ‘No emotions, no concern for feelings, just sex. For maybe a week.’

‘Sounds perfect to me.’ He kept walking until he was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t budged, and he knew he had her. ‘Stop playing your games,’ he whispered as he reached for the sash of her robe—his robe—and tugged her towards him. She came, reluctantly, perhaps, but her pointless act of protest was already being revealed as the masquerade he’d known it was. Her hips nudged his and heat flared bright and white-hot inside him. He sucked in a hard breath and tugged again at the sash. Her eyes widened as she felt the evidence of his arousal.

He touched her chin with one fingertip, tilting her face to his. ‘This can really be very simple.’

‘To you.’

‘And to you. Why not?’ He stroked her cheek and she closed her eyes. A shudder went through her. ‘See how you respond to me?’ he murmured. ‘And I haven’t even kissed you yet.’ He stroked her cheek again, enjoying the silky feel of her skin, the tremor that went through her whole body. ‘We are going to be very, very good together, bella. I feel it. I know it.’

She let out a shuddering gasp and then opened her eyes, wrenching herself away from him as if she had to break steel bonds to be free. Her eyes shot blue-green sparks at him as she clutched the gaping robe together with one hand.

‘What I know, Cristiano, is that you’re an arrogant, manipulative bastard and I have no intention of making any sort of deal with you, now or ever. So why don’t you practise your so-called charms on some other woman who wants them?’ With another gasp that sounded halfway to a sob, she turned from the room and ran down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind him and then turning the lock with an audible click.

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