CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘I THOUGHT WE would be having dinner in a restaurant.’ Lia looked dazedly around the interior of the luxurious de la Cruz jet she and Gregorio were now seated on, being flown off to goodness knew where after boarding the jet at a private airfield fifteen minutes ago. ‘I don’t have my passport with me.’

      ‘We are not going to land anywhere,’ Gregorio assured her. ‘And we do not need to go to a restaurant when I have persuaded Mancini to join us on board for the evening.’

      If Lia had needed any convincing that Gregorio was super-rich—up there in the stratosphere wealthy—then the private jet and exclusive services of the chef were proof enough.

      Except she hadn’t needed any further proof of this man’s wealth and power.

      ‘We’re just going to fly around while we eat our meal?’

      ‘Why not?’ He shrugged. ‘It ensures our privacy.’

      Privacy was the last thing Lia wanted with this particular man. A man she knew was starting to get to her, in spite of herself.

      Gregorio knew the information he had about Lia’s father was her only reason for allowing him to take her to dinner. Unfortunately his self-control was currently balanced on a very fine edge where Lia was concerned.

      She hurled her insults at him as barbs meant to wound. They had succeeded in doing that, but her open defiance of him had also deepened the desire Gregorio felt to make love with her. To be consumed by the fire that burned between them whenever they were alone together. He wanted to strip every item of clothing from her body and gorge himself on her succulent flesh before burning in those flames.

      ‘Now will you tell me what you think you know about my father that I don’t?’

      His gaze became guarded. ‘Our agreement was that we would have dinner first.’

      She gave a frustrated sigh. ‘In that case we might as well eat.’

      ‘So gracious,’ Gregorio drawled as he stood up to remove his jacket.

      A delicate blush coloured her cheeks. ‘Why don’t you just open and pour the wine?’ she instructed him abruptly.

      ‘Do you like to take charge in bed too?’

      ‘Gregorio!’ She gasped.

      He raised speculative brows as he opened the white wine cooling in the galley, revealing none of the pleasure he felt at hearing her use his given name for the first time. ‘I wasn’t complaining. I merely wish to be pre-warned if that is the case.’

      She looked more flustered than ever. ‘I didn’t accept your invitation—I’m only here because you promised to give me information about my father,’ she reminded him flatly.

      ‘All the while knowing how much I want you.’

      ‘I was only—I didn’t—Why do you always have to turn everything back to—?’

      ‘My wanting you?’ Gregorio finished softly. ‘Perhaps because possessing you has obsessed my mind for some time now.’

      She snorted. ‘I find that very hard to believe!’

      He poured the wine into two glasses before pushing one towards her, an indication that she should drink some of it. ‘That I want you? Or that I have thought of you constantly since I first saw you?’

      ‘I was engaged to another man!’

      Gregorio gave a brief glance at her bare left hand. ‘An engagement is not a marriage.’

      ‘Obviously not,’ she acknowledged heavily. ‘But I find it difficult to believe you felt an instant attraction to a woman you had only just met.’

      ‘Possibly because you prefer to continue believing me a man capable of hounding people to their deaths.’

      She winced at this reminder of her earlier accusations. ‘Talking of possessing someone—me—isn’t exactly normal behaviour,’ she defended.

      ‘You would prefer that I flatter and seduce you with words before I attempt to make love to you?’

      ‘That’s the way it’s usually done, yes.’

      He gave a dismissive shake of his head. ‘I have no time for such games.’

      ‘And, personally, I would prefer it if you never referred to the subject again.’

      ‘Then you are lying to yourself.’

      ‘You—’

      ‘Would you like me to show you how much you are lying?’

      ‘No!’ Lia could see the raw passion burning in his dark gaze.

      He drew in a deep breath as he continued to study her for several long seconds. ‘Drink some of your wine,’ he finally encouraged huskily.

      ‘And you call me bossy!’ She eyed him impatiently.

      He studied her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip of what proved to be a very good glass of white wine. He waited until Mancini had served their first course before speaking again. ‘You believe me to be a male chauvinist?’

      She grimaced. ‘Maybe it’s just a cultural difference?’

      ‘You do not believe that any more than I do,’ he observed dryly. ‘And you should have met my father—compared to him I am a fully enlightened man who believes in equal opportunity for all three sexes.’

      ‘He’s...no longer with you?’

      ‘Neither of my parents is still alive.’ Gregorio inwardly berated himself for unthinkingly introducing the painful subject of the death of a parent. ‘My father believed it was my mother’s role to be a wife to him and to bring up their three sons.’

      ‘And you don’t?’

      Lia took her glass of wine. Their conversation was far too personal for her liking. Combining that with how casually dressed Gregorio was this evening, this situation—the private jet, the personal chef—was all too disturbing for her peace of mind.

      ‘My mother ensured my two brothers and I have a more modern attitude.’ Gregorio shrugged. ‘For instance, she insisted all of us learn how to cook.’

      ‘How did your father react to that?’

      ‘As a man who had never had to learn how to so much as boil an egg, he was horrified,’ Gregorio recalled with one of those smiles that changed his face from austerely attractive to devastatingly handsome. ‘My mother loved my father enough to allow him to believe he was the patriarch of the family, when in actual fact she was the one who decided what, when, where and how.’

      ‘She sounds amazing.’