Undressed by the Billionaire: The Ruthless Billionaire's Virgin / The Billionaire's Defiant Wife / The British Billionaire's Innocent Bride

Savannah’s gaze returned to the floral arrangement on the table. She had picked the flowers herself and had placed them in a vase. It wasn’t much of a gift, on the scale of the things Ethan owned, but it was a love token given with sincerity.

‘It’s good to see you’ve made yourself at home.’

‘Ethan!’ In her euphoric state it seemed to Savannah she only had to think of Ethan for him to appear. ‘You startled me,’ she admitted, still clutching her chest. She sank down in her chair again, not wanting him to think her too excitable—or, worst-case scenario, too much in love with him. If he thought that it might prompt the unwanted opinion that she was too young to know what she wanted yet.

‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Perhaps you were daydreaming?’

‘Perhaps I was,’ she admitted shyly.

‘No reason why you shouldn’t. I want you to enjoy your short stay here.’

Savannah paled at Ethan’s mention of a short stay. So last night had meant nothing to him. Of course it hadn’t meant anything to him, Savannah realised, breaking up inside. Ethan was a sophisticated man, and she was …

What? A fool?

She was a farm girl from the depths of the country. And perhaps that was where she should have stayed.

She had jumped to so many conclusions, and all of them wrong. This man was not the tender lover from last night, but a stern and formidable stranger who was currently staring back at her as if she were a visitor he barely knew, and whom he was kindly putting up for the night.

‘Do you have everything you need?’ he said.

Not nearly, Savannah thought, following Ethan’s gaze to her empty plate. ‘I was waiting for you.’

‘There’s no need.’ He appeared restless, as if he didn’t even want to sit down.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked him.

‘I need to speak to you.’ His voice, his manner, was a return to their former, professional relationship.

‘It’s not my parents, is it?’ That at least would make a horrible sort of sense.

‘No. They’re both well,’ he reassured her. He reached out a hand that didn’t quite make it to her shoulder. ‘Do you mind if I sit down, Savannah?’

Did she mind? It was the wrong question from the right mouth. ‘Of course I don’t mind.’ Her heart squeezed tight. She was tense all over. ‘Would you like some tea? Can I pour it for you?’

‘I don’t want anything, thank you.’

Normal, everyday things should make a crisis manageable, shouldn’t they? It didn’t work for her. Ethan hadn’t even glanced at the flowers she’d picked for him. and now she braced herself, certain there was worse to come.

‘The paparazzi are at the gates, Savannah.’

How right she was! ‘Here at the palazzo?’ She couldn’t believe it. The stab of distress she felt at the thought that Ethan’s privacy had been breached, and that it was all her fault, was terrible.

‘You mustn’t be alarmed,’ he said, misreading her expression.

‘Alarmed? I’m concerned for you.’

Ethan wasn’t listening. ‘If you stay in the grounds and let me handle them, you’ll be safe. Savannah,’ he said, staring at her intently, ‘Trust me. I won’t let them near you.’

All the ground she’d gained had been lost. Ethan thought she couldn’t handle it. He was going to mop up the mess she’d created without her help. No wonder he’d cooled towards her. He’d had time to think, and had concluded she was a liability. A man who guarded his privacy as Ethan did must be eager to be rid of her. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

‘Sorry?’ he cut across her. ‘Please don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for, Savannah. You’ve done nothing wrong.’

Other than to fall in love with him. Ethan was all concern for her—not because he loved her, but because she was under his protection—and he would do anything it took to keep her safe. Savannah knew she shouldn’t want more than that, but she did. ‘What can I do to help?’

‘Stay out of the way?’ Ethan suggested.

So she was to be compliant, invisible and ineffectual? She had never longed for the farm more. At least there she could have shown Ethan another side of her. It seemed now that was a side of her he would never see.

‘The only problem, as I see it,’ he observed, thoughtfully thumbing his stubble, ‘Is that you’ll have to stay here a little longer.’

He couldn’t have made it clearer. There never had been any long-term plans where Ethan was concerned. That was the price she must pay for playing the game of love without the necessary credentials. ‘But I can’t just sit here. I have to do something.’

‘The best thing you can do,’ he said, ‘is stay out of my way.’

Ethan was right; what did she know? Life on a working farm was great, but it wasn’t the best apprenticeship for this world of celebrity. Whatever Ethan did now would be swift and decisive. He’d deal with the press and then he’d come back for her, by which time she must be ready to leave.

He returned to his office where he immediately contacted his legal team. He wanted them to draft an injunction to keep Savannah safe and free from harassment by the press when she left him, which must be soon now. She preoccupied his thoughts, and he missed her already. He’d noticed the softening touches she’d made—the dust sheets had all been removed and the palazzo had been thoroughly aired. There were flower arrangements in many of the rooms, punctuating the ancient artefacts and imbuing the palazzo with fresh life, he reflected, tapping his pen on the table top as he waited for his call to connect.

He had to stop this! He was relieved when his call connected, and he heard the cool, impersonal voice of his lawyer on the other end. Savannah was a real danger to the status quo in his life. She had made him look at things that had never mattered to him before—frescoes, carvings, and all the incredible paintings he’d inherited when he’d bought the palazzo. She was a Salome of the arts, he concluded, whilst firing instructions at his lawyer. Savannah had beguiled him with her voice, and then enchanted him with her innocence and naivety, tempting him beyond the logical and factual to appreciate the beauty and emotional wealth locked in the treasures he owned. Raking his hair into a worse state of disorder than before, he signed off, determined that Savannah’s qualities would never be compromised. Thank goodness he’d recognised in time the imperative of putting a stop to this fantasy of loving her, and had brought cool legal minds to bear on the problem instead.

A few short words and his lawyer had got the picture. In fact, his lawyer had seen all the pictures. As he stowed the phone, he relaxed. Back in a familiar world without emotion, he could focus on the facts. Savannah’s welfare meant everything to him. His feelings towards her might have muddied the water for a short time, but that was over now.

Over …

He still had her music. Picking up the remote-control, he turned on her CD. As Savannah’s voice floated around him he found it impossible to remain tense—impossible to forget how very special she was, and how at all costs he must protect her.

At all costs, he reminded himself, as he left the room to make sure that Savannah had the chance to live her dream.

She wasn’t good with make-up. In fact, she was useless, Savannah concluded as she peered into the mirror. She was back in her room and, having packed, she supposed putting on make-up before she left was all about pride. She was going to leave the palazzo with her head held high, and not looking like some washed-out waif. But a good technique with make-up took more skill than she had. Professional make-up artists had worked on her for the photo shoot for her album, though when she appeared on stage she could pile on the slap with the best of them; no subtlety required. But she hardly ever wore make-up off-duty. It would frighten the animals, she concluded wryly.

Well, she would just have to do, Savannah decided, having pulled her face this way and that. With no outfits to choose from, she was wearing jeans and flip-flops. But at least she had combed her hair, and she was wearing the pretty, lacy cardigan she always packed to wear over her evening gown to keep her warm in the wings while she was waiting to sing.

Moistening her lips, she attempted a pout and quickly gave up. You could put the glitz into the farm girl, but you could never take the farm girl out of Savannah Ross.

And thank goodness for it. She’d need every bit of grit she had to part from Ethan and act as if it didn’t hurt like hell.

After instructing his lawyers, Ethan went outside and issued a statement to the press. He went back to the office, and had barely walked through the door when he saw Savannah’s face staring out of one of the monitors. It was so unexpected, he stood transfixed, and then realised one of the reporters had somehow managed to elude his security staff and had accosted Savannah as she was coming out of the bedroom on her way across the courtyard. She was going to say goodbye to his staff in a typical act of kindness, he realised. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. Far from running scared, Savannah had the news hound by the elbow and was showing him the door. From the tilt of her chin he gathered she was about to send the man off with a flea in his ear. But were more opportunists hanging around? He was already through the door, this time with a look of murder in his eyes.

One reporter she could handle, but a jostling crowd …

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HE WAS mobbed the moment he stepped outside the door by the paparazzi. Now that they’d seen Savannah leaving his private rooms, he would struggle to deny that anything was going on between them. Whatever Savannah had told them must have been good, he concluded as the reporters formed an arc around him. He gave them a look and they went scattering back. They had agreed to leave, and had been caught out. The photographers remained a safe distance away from him, hovering like slavering hyenas as they bumped each other shamelessly in an attempt to capture both him and Savannah in the same frame. He hadn’t looked at her directly yet, but he was deeply conscious of her standing close by him. He made no attempt to close the gap. He had no intention of compromising her, and would keep his distance until he’d had his say.

‘Is it true you and Ms Ross are an item?’ one of them asked. ‘I thought you told us that Ms Ross’s welfare was your only concern.’

So, what had she told them? He had no way of knowing. His only concern was to protect Savannah and prevent scandal blighting her career. They had spent the whole day avoiding just this situation—but when she gave him a look that said her brave act of ejecting the reporter from the palace grounds had gone badly wrong, and she was sure she had just shot her reputation to hell and back, he moved swiftly into damage-limitation mode. He had two options: he could deny a relationship, and make Savannah look like a fool if she had said something different, or confirm one and bring her firmly under his protection. There was really no decision to be made. As he strolled over to her an air of expectancy swept the reporters, and as they fell back he put his arm around Savannah’s shoulders.

For a moment Savannah couldn’t get her head round the fact that Ethan was standing next to her. And not just standing at her side, but supporting her. The shock of feeling his arm around her shoulders must have gummed up her brain, she concluded as he gave her a reassuring squeeze. She knew this must just be an act for the benefit of the press, but it was a pretty seductive fantasy.

‘I never saw you as a security-guard before, Ms Ross,’ Ethan murmured. ‘But you handle yourself pretty well.’

Savannah felt a rush of pride and relief as she identified the reporter she’d firmly ushered out of the grounds standing in line with the others. They were quite a team, she thought wryly as Ethan dealt effortlessly with the hail of questions—much good it would do her as far as her non-existent romance with Ethan was concerned!

‘One question at a time, ladies and gentlemen, please.’ Ethan raised his free hand to bring everyone to order, and she noticed how his relaxed tone of voice set everyone at ease.

‘I’ll answer all your questions. At least—’ Ethan tempered with a glint in his eyes ‘—those I am prepared to.’

This made the reporters laugh, and as Ethan turned to glance at Savannah she felt her body respond. ‘Of course, I can’t speak for Ms Ross,’ he added, with another of those dangerously addictive, reassuring squeezes.

As the noise of conversation fell Savannah realised how tense she had become. Pressed up hard against Ethan, she had grown as stiff as a board. Ethan, of course, had no such inhibitions, and was perfectly relaxed in the spotlight. He felt great—fantastic, in fact—warm, strong and in control. The first surprise he launched was to announce that she had his full authority to say anything she wanted to say about their relationship.

Their relationship?

‘Not that Ms Ross needs my authority to do so,’ he added with an engaging shrug. ‘She’s got plenty to say for herself.’ Ethan’s eyes were darkly amused as he turned to her for confirmation. He went on to agree to answer three questions. After which he was sure they’d all want to get away. ‘So choose wisely,’ he added, which brought another chuckle from the crowd.

He’d got them in the palm of his hand, Savannah realised. The female reporters were practically panting to be first to ask him questions. They might as well have called out, ‘Choose me! Choose me!’ she thought tensely as a forest of red-gloss-tipped hands shot up. How were they supposed to resist Ethan’s wicked smile when it was sending seismic signals through her own system? And something told her this was just the tip of the iceberg where Ethan’s charm offensive was concerned.

So, was she jealous? And since when? Since she realised she couldn’t have him. She might not be able to have him, but did she want other women going there? Now she was supposed to convince him she knew this was only an act for the press. Well, she’d give it her best shot.

The first question came from a young woman, who moistened her lips and arranged them in a pout before asking him, ‘So, do you deny there is a relationship between yourself and your protégée, Ethan?’

‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Why should I?’

‘But Ms Ross said—’

He didn’t even blink, though he couldn’t have had a clue what she had said. ‘Miss Ross was trying to protect me …’ As Ethan turned to look at her and his voice softened, his eyes held everything she could have hoped for.

Except sincerity, Savannah registered, meeting Ethan’s gaze and holding it so that he was in no doubt that she knew this was all pretence. He got the message loud and clear. There was more humour in his gaze than anything else—humour and warmth—which was a devastating combination in such a dark, forbidding man, and all the warning she needed to keep her feelings for Ethan in check.

‘So you and Ms Ross are an item?’ the same girl pressed.

‘Take care.’ Ethan cut in like this was a game. ‘That’s your second question. Don’t you think you should give someone else a chance?’

Reluctantly, the girl stepped back.

‘Are you and Ms Ross an item?’ A well-known wily reporter from a national television-station asked the same question, with more relaxed laughter.

‘Ms Ross has already given you her answer—and, before you ask me to confirm what she’s said, please think about your stories and how you’re going to flesh them out. The tycoon leaving the stadium with his star performer can only be old news now, right?’

Ethan’s audacity made Savannah gasp. Was he going to write the press release for the reporters? From hunted to hunter in the space of a few seconds was not bad going, she reflected, even as the wily reporter pressed his lips down in acknowledgement of a worthy foe. ‘But you must admit it’s a great headline?’ he said, launching his own fishing expedition.

‘Is that question two or three?’ Ethan’s eyes were glinting with challenge, and Savannah knew he was enjoying this. Everything was a game to Ethan, a game he was determined to win.

‘Will Ms Ross be staying at the palazzo with you for long?’ The reporter waited patiently for Ethan to reply while the rest held a collective breath.

‘As long as she likes,’ Ethan said, turning to look at Savannah when she started to protest.

Okay, so she was only trying to defend Ethan’s dignity—forget her honour; he clearly had. Pulling her tight, Ethan kissed away her protest, leaving her trembling like a leaf and everyone else gasping. ‘Which means Miss Ross might be here quite some time,’ he announced.

By the time Ethan released her she was fit for nothing, and even the reporters were still reeling with surprise that the famous recluse had come out. Ethan, of course, was completely unmoved, and continued his verbal jousting as if nothing unusual had happened.

So, what was he was up to? Disarming the press with more truth than they could handle? Even she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that. His behaviour towards her had to be an act. She should have known better than to try and fight Ethan’s battles in his own back yard. He was hardly the type to let her take over.

As cameras swivelled to take a better shot of her, Savannah’s arms flew up instinctively to shield her face, and in that same moment Ethan stepped in front of her. ‘We have a deal,’ he told everyone firmly. ‘And I expect you to honour that agreement, as I shall. I answer your questions, and in return you respect our privacy.’

Ethan’s back cut off Savannah’s view of the proceedings, but her pulse pounded a reminder that Ethan was a warrior who wouldn’t allow her to stand alone. That didn’t mean he felt the same about her as she felt about him, just that he was a natural born protector. She longed to tell the press that, whatever the future held for them, she adored Ethan Alexander and always would.

‘And your third and last question?’ Ethan prompted, reclaiming Savannah’s attention as he drew her close.

‘How long do you expect this liaison to last, Ethan?’ the reporter asked him, making the word liaison sound sordid.

Savannah felt Ethan’s grip change and soften, instead of growing angry, and she realised that she could have walked away from him at that point, had she wanted to.

‘Don’t you think it would be more chivalrous if you addressed that question to Ms Ross?’ Ethan’s tone was neutral, almost as if he was condoning the reporter’s scathing tone. But as the reporter turned to her Savannah felt very strongly that Ethan had played some clever move.

‘Well, Ms Ross?’ the reporter demanded.

Before she could answer, Ethan held up his hand. ‘You’ve had your three questions,’ he pointed out wryly.

As a clamour of protest threatened to break out, Ethan smiled at her. ‘Why don’t we pose for an official photograph?’ he suggested.

‘Are you serious?’ Savannah said incredulously, still reeling from Ethan’s killer move.

‘Never more so.’

As Ethan’s mouth quirked with familiar humour, Savannah realised she trusted him. It was that simple and that complicated, she thought, taking her place standing at Ethan’s side.

That was the signal for the photographers to rush to grab the best positions. They called for them to look this way and that, and fortunately smiling came easily to her. It wasn’t that hard to pretend she felt good pressed up close to Ethan, and when the photographers asked them to change position, and he brought her in front of him with his arms loosely slung around her waist, she could have happily stayed there for ever. How hard could it be to rest her head against the chest of the man she loved with all her heart?

‘There’s just one more thing, ladies and gentlemen of the press,’ Ethan announced when everyone had had their fill of them. ‘And my lawyers have mailed this information to your editors,’ he added. ‘My legal team has drafted an injunction protecting Ms Ross. It was placed in front of a judge this morning. Everything that falls outside what I have told you will be jumped on. And, of course, this order will protect Ms Ross when she leaves here and picks up her career. She will not be harassed or there will be legal consequences. She will be left alone.’

He didn’t need to say more, Savannah realised, taking in everyone’s expression. There wasn’t one reporter there who was prepared to risk an expensive libel case that might put their job in jeopardy. Ethan had acted swiftly and effectively to protect her.

‘But you’ve told us very little,’ the wily older reporter complained. ‘Other than the fact that what we have on you and Ms Ross is old news.’

As they looked at each other both men knew this was the end game. There was nothing left for the reporters to do but to pack up and leave. They did so without further comment, but as they reached their vehicles the older reporter turned and tipped his head in Ethan’s direction, as if acknowledging another man at the top of his game.

‘With the lives we both lead, it’s almost inevitable that our paths will cross again,’ Ethan explained as they watched the reporter walk away.

‘And you don’t mind that?’

‘Challenge always gives me a buzz.’

So Ethan’s life would go flat now. And she hadn’t been much of a challenge for him, had she? Savannah reflected, remembering she’d practically begged Ethan to make love to her.

His phone rang and he had to turn away to take the call. ‘Will you excuse me?’ he said politely.

Savannah waited.

‘The England manager,’ Ethan revealed, sounding pleased. ‘The boys won their match and would like to come over for a celebration.’

‘Oh, that’s great news!’

He looked at her sternly. ‘I was about to say, but—’

‘But what?’ Savannah cut in again.

‘But, in case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do entertaining.’ Having slipped the phone into the pocket of his shirt, Ethan started walking back towards the palazzo.

‘But I do,’ Savannah called after him recklessly.

‘You do what?’

Ethan stopped so abruptly, she almost ran into him again. ‘I do entertaining,’ Savannah explained, staying a safe distance away. ‘In fact, I love entertaining.’ The prospect of humiliation was very real, seeing as she was supposed to be leaving the palazzo, not arranging a party for Ethan. But what did she have to lose? ‘So, if you need a hostess, you’ve got one.’

‘No.’ Ethan quickened his step.

‘No?’ Prompted into action, Savannah ran after him. ‘Why not?’

‘For the obvious reasons.’

‘What obvious reasons? Ethan, please, just wait and listen to me.’

‘I said no, Savannah. Thank you for the offer, but there isn’t going to be a party here. Half the palazzo is shut up. It hasn’t seen the light of day since I bought it.’

‘Well, what a good excuse to open it up. It can be done, Ethan, just like my room.’

Shaking his head, he strode away from her. ‘I’ve got business appointments.’

‘I could handle everything for you.’

‘You?’ He didn’t break stride as he headed back towards the palazzo.

‘Yes, me,’ Savannah said patiently, scurrying along at his side.

‘The boys can come over for a quiet kitchen-supper.’

She felt like punching the air.

‘But I don’t do celebrations.’

‘There’s always a first time.’

‘That’s a popular misconception put about by an optimist,’ Ethan informed her, speeding up again.

‘You wouldn’t even have to be there,’ Savannah added hastily, forced to run to keep up as they crossed the courtyard. ‘Unless you wanted to be there, of course,’ she added, seeing Ethan’s expression darken.

‘If I agree to anything at all, it will be a quiet meal organised by my staff. And an early night for everyone,’ he told her sternly, reaching for the door.

‘Oh … I’m sure the squad will enjoy that.’ Savannah pulled a face Ethan couldn’t see as he lifted the latch on the big wooden door that led through to the utility rooms at the back of the palazzo.