Secret Heirs: Billionaire's Pleasure. Кейт Хьюит
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very good during dinner,’ he said, unbuckling the belt of his trousers.
‘Good? In what way?’
‘A bewitching combination. A little defiant about your lowly job,’ he observed as he stepped out of his boxer shorts. ‘And there’s no need to look at me that way, Darcy, because it’s true. But your heartfelt praise about the property pleased Cristiano very much, though he’s always been a sucker for a pretty girl. He’s going to keep Gisella, Pasquale and Stefania on, by the way. He told me just before they left for Rome.’
‘So all’s well that ends well?’ she questioned brightly.
‘Who said anything about it ending?’ he murmured, climbing into bed and pulling her into his arms so that she could feel the hard rod of his arousal pushing against her. ‘I thought the night was only just beginning.’
They barely slept a wink. It was as if Renzo was determined to leave her with lasting memories of just what an amazing lover he was as he brought her to climax over and over again. As dawn coated the dark room with a pale daffodil light, Darcy found herself enjoying the erotic spectacle of Renzo’s dark head between her thighs, gasping as his tongue cleaved over her exquisitely aroused flesh, until she quivered helplessly around him.
She was slow getting ready the next morning and when she walked into the dining room, Renzo glanced up from his newspaper.
‘I need to leave for the airport soon,’ she said.
‘No, you don’t. We’ll fly back together on my jet,’ he said, pouring her a cup of coffee.
Darcy sat down and reached for a sugar cube. Start as you mean to go on. And remember that your future does not contain billionaire property tycoons with an endless supply of private transport.
‘Honestly, there’s no need,’ she said. ‘I have a return ticket and I’m perfectly happy to go back on FlyCheap.’
The look he gave her was a mixture of wry, indulgent—but ultimately uncompromising. ‘I’m not sending you back on a budget airline, Darcy. You’re coming on my jet, with me.’
And if Darcy had thought that travelling in a chauffeur-driven car was the height of luxury, then flying in Renzo’s private plane took luxury onto a whole new level. She saw the unmistakable looks of surprise being directed at her by two stewardesses as they were whisked through passport control at Florence airport. Were they thinking she didn’t look like Renzo’s usual type, with her cheap jewellery, her bouncing bosom and the fact that she was clearly out of her comfort zone?
But Darcy didn’t care about that either. She was just going to revel in her last few hours with her lover and as soon as he’d dismissed the flight crew she unzipped his jeans. As she pulled down his silk boxers she realised this was the last time she would ever slide her lips over his rocky length and hear his helpless groan as he jerked inside her mouth. The last time he would ever give that low, growling moan as he clamped his hands possessively around her head to anchor her lips to the most sensitive part of his anatomy. Afterwards, he made love to her so slowly that she felt as if she would never come down to earth properly.
But all too soon the flight was over and they touched down in England where his car was waiting. Darcy hesitated as the driver held open the door for her.
‘Could you drop me off at the Tube on the way?’
Renzo frowned, exasperation flattening his lips. ‘Darcy, what is this? I’m not dropping you anywhere except home.’
‘No. You don’t have to do that.’
‘I know I don’t.’ He paused before giving a flicker of a smile. ‘You can even invite me in for coffee if you like.’
‘Coffee?’
‘There you go. You’re sounding shocked again.’ He shook his head. ‘Isn’t that what normally happens when a man takes a woman home after the kind of weekend we’ve just had? I’ve never even seen where you live.’
‘I know you haven’t. But you’re not interested in my life. You’ve always made that perfectly clear.’
‘Maybe I’m interested now,’ he said stubbornly.
And now was too late, she thought. Why hadn’t he done this at the beginning, when it might have meant something? He was behaving with all the predictability of a powerful man who had everything he wanted—his curiosity suddenly aroused by the one thing which was being denied him.
‘It’s small and cramped and all I can afford, which is why I’m moving to Norfolk,’ she said defensively. ‘It’s about as far removed from where you live as it’s possible to be and you’ll hate it.’
‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? Unless you’re ashamed of it, of course.’
Furiously, she glared at him. ‘I’m not ashamed of it.’
‘Well, then.’ He shrugged. ‘What’s the problem?’
But Darcy’s fingers were trembling as she unlocked her front door because she’d never invited anyone into this little sanctuary of hers. When you’d shared rooms and space for all of your life—when you’d struggled hard to find some privacy—then something which was completely your own became especially precious. ‘Come in, then,’ she said ungraciously.
Renzo stepped into the room and the first thing he noticed was that the living, dining and kitchen area were all crammed into the same space. And...his eyes narrowed...was that a narrow bed in the corner?
The second thing he noticed was how clean and unbelievably tidy it was—and the minimalist architect in him applauded her total lack of clutter. There were no family photos or knick-knacks. The only embellishment he could see was a cactus in a chrome pot on the window sill and an art deco mirror, which reflected some much-needed extra light into the room. And books. Lots of books. Whole lines of them, neatly arranged in alphabetical order.
He turned to look at her. She had been careful about sitting in the Tuscan sun but, even so, her fair skin had acquired a faint glow. She looked much healthier than she’d done when she’d arrived at Vallombrosa, that was for sure. In fact, she looked so pretty in the yellow dress with blue flowers which she had stubbornly insisted on laundering herself, that he felt his heart miss a beat. And suddenly Renzo knew he wasn’t ready to let her go. Not yet. He thought about the way she’d been in his arms last night. The way they’d taken their coffee out onto the terrace at Vallombrosa to stare at the moon, and he’d known a moment of unexpected peace. Why end something before it fizzled out all of its own accord, especially when it still had the potential to give him so much pleasure?
He glanced over towards her neat little kitchenette. ‘So... Aren’t you going to offer me coffee?’
‘I’ve only got instant, I’m afraid.’
He did his best to repress a shudder. ‘Just some water, then.’
He watched as she poured him a glass of tap water—he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk that—and added an ice cube. But when she put the drink down on the table, he didn’t touch it. Instead, he fixed her with a steady gaze.
‘I’ve had a good weekend,’ he said slowly.
‘Me, too. Actually, it was more than good.’ She gave him a quick smile. ‘Thank you.’
There was a pause. ‘Look, this move to Norfolk seems a little...hasty. Why don’t you stay in London a bit longer?’
‘I told you why—and now you’ve seen for yourself my reasons. I want to start living differently.’
‘I can understand that. But what if I told you I had an apartment you could use—somewhere much bigger and more comfortable than this? What then?’
‘What, just like that? Let me guess.’ Her emerald gaze bored into him. ‘Even if you don’t have one available, you’ll magically “find” an apartment for me? Browse through your extensive