The Innocent's Emergency Wedding. Natalie Anderson

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basement, where a car and driver waited. A few moments later they were on the road to City Airport.

      Alessandro took calls for the entire journey. In the majority of them he spoke in Italian, meaning that Katie didn’t understand a word, but his urbane, confident tones slipped beneath her skin, stirring a secret response she couldn’t bear to acknowledge.

      She stared fixedly out of the window, trying to minimise his impact on her senses. He was too handsome, too powerful, too full of wicked humour that made her want to smile all the time.

      And he’d agreed to go with her to Vegas.

       Get a grip.

      But the knots tightened in her stomach as they arrived at the airport.

      Another assistant was waiting at the entrance to the private jet terminal and he handed Alessandro a folder of paperwork and a large paper bag. As they walked through the building Alessandro showed her the Sybarite deli logo stamped on the side.

      ‘I’m looking forward to tasting your work.’ His lips twitched and he leaned closer. ‘Lots of things you can do with sauce…sharpen up even the blandest of dishes, correct?’

      She sent him a death look.

      He laughed. ‘You’re easy to bait, Katie.’

      Breathless, she failed to think of a reply. Why did she keep reading innuendo into everything he said?

      Because he means you to.

      He was an outrageous tease. While he’d been intimidating when she’d first arrived in his office, it hadn’t taken long till he’d flipped the switch to a playful side that was his natural, wicked self. It wasn’t actually anything to do with her. Except she kept overreacting.

      She had to keep her response in check and not take him seriously—that would be no problem at all, right? All her life she’d played it safe—almost always backing down from causing a scene even when she’d wanted to, rarely disobeying Brian, never fighting back because Susan had been so anxious the few times she had. She’d invariably stayed within the rules her authoritarian foster father had set.

      But Alessandro barely seemed to bother with rules at all.

      ‘You own this?’ she muttered as they swiftly walked through the terminal and onto the tarmac. To her ignorant eyes the immaculate plane looked brand-new.

      ‘I own a stake in a jet leasing company. Better for the environmental footprint if we share the private planes around a bit.’

      He laughed at her withering look of disbelief.

      Yes, Alessandro Zetticci had interests in as many companies as he had in women. Fiendishly energetic and astute, he had a knack for knowing what people wanted, what they liked, before they were even aware of it.

      She knew he’d used that innate sophistication as a youth and set up his first venue. It had rapidly become the ultimate nightspot for high society, celebrities, models, wannabes… Then at the height of its popularity he’d sold it, taken the stellar profits and reinvested them into a new company—again using that innate foresight.

      He created and then flicked on companies with the careless ease with which he traded women. From one company to the next, amassing a property portfolio and personal fortune at the same time.

      ‘What?’ Alessandro prompted as she paused to look up at the plane again.

      ‘It’s bigger than I expected.’

      It seemed massive for just the two of them.

      That smile hovered on his lips. ‘Oh?’

      She shot him another death look. ‘Do you put sexual innuendo into all of your conversations?’

      ‘As much as I can, of course,’ he drawled, the wickedness in his smile deepening. ‘Being the lascivious playboy that I am.’

      ‘You’re only doing it to antagonise me now,’ she said.

      ‘Am I?’

      ‘Or you’re just practising your flirty banter. Which you don’t need to.’

      ‘Don’t I?’ A flicker of astonishment lit his eyes. ‘Why not?’

      No man had ever spoken to her this way, and she’d certainly never answered back. But with a man like Alessandro offence was the best defence, wasn’t it? Surely she should fight fire with fire?

      She glared at him. ‘Any woman with eyes would say yes to you. You don’t even have to open your mouth.’

      He burst out laughing—all warmth and wicked energy. ‘But a closed mouth isn’t as good, Katie.’ He chuckled again and teased her. ‘Don’t you want to know what my tongue is really good at?’

      Refusing to reply, she stomped up the stairs. She was still unable to believe he’d agreed to marry her. But that was him, right? Mercurial, maverick, mischievous. This must appeal to that renegade element within him that enjoyed wild, spontaneous adventures. Indeed, she heard him chuckle again close behind her.

      ‘You react so prudishly, how am I supposed to resist?’ he murmured.

      She turned her head, taking the chance to look down on him for once. ‘You could just try being polite instead of trying to embarrass me.’

      He sent her a fake wounded look. ‘But, Katie, I’m unfailingly polite.’

      She knew he didn’t mean it. He was still laughing at her. She had the horrible feeling he knew she was too aware of him. Somehow she needed to keep him at a distance.

      At the top of the stairs she shyly followed a uniformed crewman through to the main passenger section of the plane. She drew in a deep breath because it was stunning—luxury leather, gleaming chrome, plush carpet and an outrageous sense of space.

      The crewman demonstrated how the extra-wide seats reclined and pointed out the stack of reading material stowed in a gorgeous side table with a glossy finish. Then he showed her a partition further down the back of the plane, beyond which was a beautiful linen-clad bed and a polished bathroom facility. It was pure decadent elegance.

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured as the crewman disappeared back the way he’d come.

      ‘We have three pilots and one assistant for a flight of this duration,’ Alessandro explained as he put his folders, bag and tablet down. ‘If there’s anything you need just ask and it will be done.’

      Three pilots? Some oxygen might be good right now.

      ‘Where are they?’ she asked.

      ‘Crew quarters.’ He sat in the seat opposite the one she’d taken and smiled as she fumbled with the seatbelt. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘I haven’t travelled that much,’ she confessed with an embarrassed smile.

      His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve flown before, though, right?’

      ‘I went to Paris on

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