The Italian's Christmas Proposition. CATHY WILLIAMS
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disorientation he had experienced at seeing her, he realised she was leading him away from the others with a sharp tug on his arm.
‘Please, please, please…’ Rosie was whispering, simultaneously tiptoeing and tugging him down so that she could whisper into his ear, ‘Could you just play along with this for the moment? I’ll explain in a bit. I’m really, really sorry, but all you have to do is…’
Is what? Matteo thought. Through the confusion of his thoughts, he felt her small, delicate hands clutch at his arm. She was so much smaller than Matteo, his tall form and muscular body towering over her.
‘Who the hell are you?’ Matteo kept his voice low, a whispered conversation that he knew looked a lot more intimate than it was. He was thinking fast but was disconcerted by the softness of her body and the sweet, floral scent of her hair. She was much shorter than him and her reaching up to him somehow emphasised the fullness of her breasts, pushing against her jumper, just brushing against him.
‘Rosie. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I had no idea my sister would rush down here like a tornado…’
‘This isn’t what I expected from you, son. You know how traditional I am when it comes to treating other people the way you would want to be treated yourself.’ This from behind him—Bob’s voice, thick with disappointment.
How the hell did the woman know his name? And who was she anyway? His head was clearing and one thing was certain—the ramifications of what was going on were becoming patently obvious.
No deal.
Lengthy unravelling of this mess was going to take time and time was not on his side. Bob was making noises under his breath, wondering whether he hadn’t made a dreadful mistake, while his wife was trying to be the voice of reason. The deal was disappearing into the ether. He had no idea who was the woman imploring his help. His assumption was it was some kind of set-up somehow to extract money from him. He was made of money. Public accusations of some kind? Blackmail? Press somewhere waiting in the wings, cameras at the ready?
His levels of anger bordered on volcanic. Of key importance was to take this scene away from Bob and his wife and sort out the consequences later. Damage limitation was essential. He wanted this deal and he was going to do whatever it took to seal it.
And the only thing he could think of doing right now was to follow the lead of the pink-faced girl still looking at him and play along, much as he didn’t want to.
He smiled and Rosie went a shade pinker.
‘Rosie,’ he murmured, spinning her round and edging them both back to the group, who had fallen silent during their whispered tête-à-tête, including the screeching sister. ‘You know we talked about this…’
He looked at Bob and Margaret with a self-deprecating smile and anchored the fiery little blonde closer to him so that she was nestled against his side. ‘She’s gone off the rails because she thinks I’m going to be one of those fly-by-night guys…’ He shook his head, leant down and brushed his mouth against her cheek. ‘How can I convince you, my darling, that this isn’t just a fling for me?’
Rosie looked at him. Her skin burned where he had brushed it with his mouth. His arm, hooked around her waist, was doing all sorts of things to her body, making her squirm.
In the heat of the moment, she hadn’t quite appreciated just how stunning the guy was. Raven-black hair, bronzed skin and eyes as dark as midnight. She knew that she was breathing quickly, just as she knew that she wasn’t thinking straight. She was conscious of her femininity in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
‘Um…’
‘This feels like the start of something big, Bob,’ Matteo said in a darkly persuasive voice. ‘I would have mentioned it to you but I didn’t want to jinx it.’
‘So romantic,’ Margaret was saying with approval.
‘Isn’t it?’ Matteo commented neutrally. He tightened his hand on Rosie’s waist and gave her the tiniest of squeezes, nudging her ever closer, thigh against thigh, his arm resting just below her breast now.
Rosie felt the tightening of her nipples. She had no intention of catching her sister’s eye but she could feel Candice looking at the pair of them and heaven only knew what was going through her head. Candice was astute but it had to be said that this dark stranger, dragged into a charade not of his making, was doing a fine job of pulling it off and her only question was why?
‘You should head back to your hotel.’ Matteo’s primary objective at this point was to put distance between Bob, Margaret and the combustible situation unfolding in front of them. ‘Long day tomorrow finalising our deal.’
‘You’re getting a good man in this one,’ Bob said warmly, moving in to shake Rosie’s hand. ‘Glad everything’s sorted, lad. Misunderstandings can get out of control! Nice to see you’ve got the makings of a family man within you. A good woman is always the making of any man.’ He chuckled and gave his wife a hug.
Matteo thought it best to speed things along. He had no idea what was going on but the threat of it all blowing up was a distinct possibility and one he intended to divert with everything at his disposal. He mentally bid a temporary farewell to his Venetian villa that was waiting for him the following evening. It wasn’t going to happen.
‘So they say,’ he murmured as he thought ahead to how he intended to squash whatever machinations were afoot. ‘Comprehensively’ was the word that sprang to mind.
‘Hope we get to spend some time with the two of you before we head back to Yorkshire. Family is everything, like I say, and I wouldn’t mind raising a glass or two to celebrate young love.’
Matteo murmured, nodded, half-smiled, brushed his lips against Rosie’s hair… He exerted every ounce of charm to smooth over the sudden, alarming pot holes that had surfaced on the very smooth road. He walked them to the glass door, where they were waiting to be met, the little blonde still by his side because question time was about to begin.
Rosie watched with mounting dread as Matteo disposed of her sister with ruthless speed. He was the essence of charm, even though his hand on her waist carried the hint of a threat that sent shivers racing up and down her spine. She could hardly blame him. She listened in mutely as he smoothed over Candice’s doubts, laying it on thick until Candice was smiling and telling him how relieved she was that things were back on track, apologising for the fuss and then, somehow, laughingly blaming Rosie for having given her the wrong impression.
Rosie couldn’t believe the way events had transpired. Who knew that her five-foot-ten, ice-queen sister could let rip with such uncharacteristic drama? Candice was the one who flinched if someone raised their voice slightly too loudly in a restaurant. She moaned about people shouting into their mobile phones in public! She’d once told Emily off, when they had just been kids, for laughing too much.
Candice out of the way, Matteo dropped his hand, stood back and surveyed the blonde coldly.
‘So,’ he said flatly, ‘Let’s find somewhere nice and cosy and private and have a little chat, shall we?’
Rosie quailed. The man was sexy, dangerous…and from the expression on his face in the presence of his quarry.
‘I’m really sorry, I—I know how this must look…’ she stammered, only dimly aware that he was leading her out of the crowded foyer. She found she couldn’t quite meet those wintry eyes.
‘Do you, now?’ Matteo purred.
Where was he taking her? She cast a desperate backward glance behind her, back down to the marbled foyer with the tall Christmas tree. The low buzz of curious voices that had greeted the little scene earlier had died down but there would still be curious eyes looking to see whether it might kick off again.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere