got everything under control.’
‘I hope so. That is what you’re paying me for.’
Niccolò walked over to the window and stared out at the uninterrupted view of Hyde Park. The wintry trees were bare and the pewter sky seemed heavy with the threat of snow. It seemed as if his hunch about her ability had been right. It seemed she was talented, as well as beautiful.
And suddenly he realised he couldn’t keep taking his anger out on her. Who cared what kind of life she’d led? Who cared about anything except possessing her? Composing his face into the kind of expression which was usually guaranteed to get him exactly what he wanted, Niccolò smiled.
‘It looks perfect,’ he said. ‘You must let me buy you dinner.’
She shook her head. ‘Honestly, you don’t have to do that.’
‘No?’ He raised his eyebrows in mocking question. ‘The other night you seemed to imply you felt short-changed because I’d made a pass at you without jumping through the necessary social hoops first.’
‘That was different.’
‘How?’
She lifted her hand to fiddle unnecessarily with her ponytail. ‘I made the comment in response to a situation.’
‘A situation which won’t seem to go away.’ His black eyes lanced into her. ‘Unless something has changed and you’re going to deny that you want me?’
She sighed. ‘I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to do that, Niccolò. But wanting you doesn’t automatically mean that I’m going to do anything about it. You must have women wanting you every day of the week.’
‘But we’re not talking about other women. What if I just wanted the opportunity to redeem myself? To show you that I am really just a…what is it you say?’ He lifted his shoulders and his hands in an exaggerated gesture of incomprehension. ‘Ah, yes. A regular guy.’
‘Of course you are.’ She laughed, in spite of herself. ‘Describing you as a regular guy would be like calling a thirty-carat diamond a trinket.’
‘Oh, come on, Alannah,’ he urged softly. ‘One dinner between a boss and his employee. What’s the harm in that?’
Alannah could think of at least ten answers, but the trouble was that when he asked her like that, with those black eyes blazing into her, all her reservations slipped right out of her mind. Which was how she found herself in the back of a big black limousine later that evening, heading for central London. She was sitting as far away from Niccolò as possible but even so—her palms were still clammy with nerves and her heart racing with excitement.
‘So where are we going?’ she questioned, looking at the burly set of the driver’s shoulders through the tinted glass screen which divided them.
‘The Vinoly,’ Niccolò said. ‘Do you know it?’
She shook her head. She’d heard about it, of course. Currently London’s most fashionable venue, it was famous for being impossible to get a table though Niccolò was greeted with the kind of delight which suggested that he might be a regular.
The affluence of the place was undeniable. The women wore designer and diamonds while the men seemed to have at least three mobile phones lined up neatly beside their bread plates and their gazes kept straying to them.
Alannah told herself she wasn’t going to be intimidated even though she still couldn’t quite believe she’d agreed to come. As she’d got ready she had tried to convince herself that exposure to Niccolò’s arrogance might be enough to kill her desire for him, once and for all.
But the reality was turning out to be nothing like she’d imagined. Why hadn’t she taken into account his charisma—or at least prepared herself for a great onslaught of it? Because suddenly there seemed nothing in her armoury to help her withstand it.
She had never been with a man who commanded quite so much attention. She saw the pianist nodding to him, with a smile. She saw other diners casting surreptitious glances at him, even though they were pretending not to. But it was more than his obvious wealth which drew people’s gaze, like a magnet. Beneath the sophisticated exterior, he radiated a raw masculinity which radiated from his powerful body like a dark aura.
They sat down at a discreet table but suddenly the complex menu seemed too rich for a stomach which was sick with nerves. Alannah found herself wishing she were eating an omelette at her own kitchen table rather than subjecting herself to a maelstrom of emotions which were making her feel most peculiar.
‘What are you going to have?’ asked Niccolò as the waiter appeared.
The words on the menu had blurred into incomprehensible lines and she lifted her gaze to him. ‘I don’t know. You order for me,’ she said recklessly.
He raised his eyebrows before giving their order but once the waiter had gone he turned to study her, his black eyes thoughtful. ‘Are you usually quite so accommodating?’
‘Not usually, no.’ She smoothed her napkin. ‘But then, this isn’t what you’d call usual, is it?’
‘In what way?’
‘Well.’ She shrugged. ‘You made it sound like a working dinner, but it feels a bit like a date.’
‘And what if we pretended it was a date—would that help you relax a little more?’
‘To be honest, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a date that I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like,’ she said slowly.
He took a sip of water which didn’t quite disguise the sudden cynicism of his smile. ‘I find that very difficult to believe.’
She laughed. ‘I’m sure you do—given your apparent love of stereotypes. What’s the matter, Niccolò—doesn’t that fit in with your image of me? You think that because I once took off my clothes for the camera, that I have men queuing up outside the bedroom door?’
‘Do you?’
‘Not half as many as you, I bet,’ she said drily.
They were staring at one another across the table, their eyes locked in silent battle, when suddenly he leaned towards her, his words so low that only she could hear them.
‘Why did you do it, Alannah?’ he questioned roughly. ‘Wasn’t it bad enough that you were kicked out of school for smoking dope and playing truant? Why the hell did you cheapen yourself by stripping off?’
The waiter chose precisely that moment to light the small candle at the centre of the table. And that short gap provided Alannah with enough time for rebellion to flare into life inside her.
‘Why do you think I did it?’ she demanded. ‘Why do people usually do jobs like that? Because I needed the money.’
‘For what?’ His lips curled. ‘To end up in a poky apartment in one of the tougher ends of town?’
‘Oh, you’re so quick to judge, aren’t you, Niccolò? So eager to take the moral high ground, when you don’t have a clue what was going on in my life
