would Bronson think once he saw her tonight? Would he be disappointed? Would he be attracted? Anthony had reminded her about Bronson’s playboy style. He’d warned her not to get involved or, worse, attached to a man who was known for the revolving door in his bedroom.
Even though she’d worked for Anthony for three years, she’d never once seen Anthony and Bronson in the same room. She’d certainly seen the tabloids showcasing the bitterness between the two Hollywood powerhouses, but anytime she questioned Anthony about it, he’d laugh it off. He was always joking, always carefree. The very opposite of Bronson.
But the tabloids’ speculation about their alleged affair was no laughing matter. Neither she nor Anthony found the assumptions amusing. She’d seen firsthand the destruction a photo and boldface caption could cause.
She was eternally grateful that Olivia had given her a chance, and believed in her ability to do her job, and not focused on what the rumor mill portrayed her as—a liar.
And now she was in Cannes getting ready for one of the largest film festivals in the world.
With excitement and curiosity spiraling through her, Mia slid a handful of hot bubbles up over her shoulders. She only hoped the two men didn’t get into another verbal altercation. The press was always so greedy when it came to pictures of the two most powerful men in movies having a public disagreement.
There had to be a way to bridge the hatred between Bronson and Anthony, and with her current position she could be that link. Because once Bronson learned that Anthony was the child Olivia had given up for adoption nearly forty years ago, he’d have even more hatred for the man than he did now.
She hadn’t been able to save her own family, but maybe, just maybe, she could bring this family together.
Two
Bronson’s breath caught. He knew his mouth had dropped open, but nothing could pull his gaze from the sight coming toward him.
He hadn’t thought it possible, but as Mia walked toward him in a Victoria Dane original, she looked even sexier than she had in just a towel.
Mia wore his sister’s design as if she’d been made to model the one-of-a-kind dress on a runway in Milan or Paris. Or as if she’d been made to torture unsuspecting men like him.
He’d been feeling guilty about not picking her up at her suite, and now he knew that was a wise decision because there were very few steps from the door to the bed.
“I have to say, it’s not often I’m speechless.” Bronson lifted Mia’s slender hand to his lips. “I’m glad you’re going in on my arm.”
Mia offered a sexy, confident smile. “Well, that makes two of us.”
If this were any woman other than his mother’s assistant, an assistant he still had serious doubts about, Bronson could’ve talked her out of that thin, flowy dress in a matter of seconds. And, who knows, he still could get her out of that dress. They were here for nearly a week, and this was only the first night. After all, he did need to spend some one-on-one time with her, didn’t he?
Damn if she wouldn’t be turning some heads tonight. Jealousy stabbed him in the chest. What did he care that men looked? So long as they didn’t touch. For now, she was his. Anthony’s loss made this seduction all the more enjoyable.
“Shall we?” he asked, slipping her arm through his.
She fit against him as they walked through the open lobby toward the glow of the sunset streaming in the etched-glass doors. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, the jasmine scent he’d associated with her wafting around him. Everything about her mocked him. He wanted her, but he didn’t trust her. His emotions were all jumbled because of this intriguing woman, and he didn’t like this lack of control. That in itself should make him dislike her, but she oozed sex appeal and confidence, and Bronson knew he would have her before the week’s end.
When they reached the door, he placed a hand on the small of her back to escort her out … and encountered bare skin. If he thought she was sexy from the front with that low cowl-neck design that enhanced her perfect breasts, she was sinful from the back with the chiffon draping as low as legally possible without being indecent.
A sexy back got him every time. Of course, he was beginning to think every physical attribute of this Italian beauty got to him. Great. Just what he needed, an out-of-control libido to hinder his judgment about this woman … as if he weren’t having enough issues with that. The fact she may have slept with his enemy should have been enough to turn him off. But damn if he wasn’t stubborn and all the more defiant when he saw something, or someone, he wanted.
He had to hand it to his sister. When she’d picked the dress, she’d nailed the style that accentuated Mia’s height, curves and sensual features. That’s why Victoria was so sought after by every star in America—and why men were sent reeling by the women who wore the designs.
“Victoria sure knows how to make a woman feel pretty,” Mia told him, seeming to read his mind as they walked beneath a canopy of lush palms and thick foliage beside the water’s edge that led toward the red carpet. “I have to admit, I tried on every single one of those dresses. They’re all my favorite.”
Bronson hadn’t removed his hand from her back and he didn’t intend to. She was too soft, too feminine, too … everything.
The perfect spy for Anthony.
“Victoria knows how to make beautiful women look even more breathtaking.”
Mia’s gaze shot to his. “Thank you.”
He stepped in front of her just before they reached the area with the camera flashes of the paparazzi and the red carpet. “I should be thanking you,” he told her, then bent to whisper in her ear, “Because of you, I’ll be the envy of every man here tonight.”
A soft, visible shudder produced a shaky smile. “I doubt that, but thank you again.”
She was serious. Most women in Hollywood loved showing off their bodies … God knows they’d paid enough for their enhancements. But as he studied Mia’s dark, sultry eyes, he realized she was the minority. She may have trembled at his words, but she didn’t believe him.
That was just fine, since he was still leery of her, as well. But he would uncover the true Mia soon enough. And if uncovering her from that wispy black dress was involved, well, that wouldn’t be a hardship.
Anything to stick close to the alluring Mia Spinelli.
Flashes of lights, clicks of cameras and shouts of Bronson’s name from every direction followed them as they made their way up the red carpet toward the steps leading into the Marché du Film Theater.
Mia couldn’t believe this. Simply couldn’t believe she was in Cannes, wearing a Victoria Dane design on the red carpet with Bronson’s strong hand on her bare back. She took mental images of every moment because she knew, once she got back to the real world of “assisting,” this would all be a wonderful, distant memory.
Though, she had a feeling the tingling from Bronson’s touch would linger long after tonight. And that was just fine with her. Mercy, the man was potent.
She allowed him to lead her from camera to camera, giving a subtle nudge to her back when he wanted
