every searing look and heard every not so discreet whisper and had held her head high with a smile fixed in place.
They were in the back of Ciro’s car now, and she looked out of the window at the streets of London bathed in late summer sunshine. Young couples stood hand in hand outside pubs, drinking and laughing. Carefree.
She’d never had the chance for a life like that. As soon as her uncle had taken over his role as guardian he’d had his nefarious plan mapped out for Lara and she’d been totally unaware of it.
Pushing down the uncharacteristic welling of self-pity, Lara thought of the event they’d just been to. As much as she’d been the centre of attention, so had Ciro. Lara had noticed the looks and whispers directed his way too, the way people’s eyes had widened on his scarred features. It had made her want to stand in front of him and stare them down. Shame them for their morbid fascination.
She’d seen the masterful way he’d operated, winning people around, charming them into submission. He might have needed someone like her for access into this rarefied world, but it wouldn’t be long before he became an indelible part of it. And then her role would be obsolete.
Ciro turned to look at her then, as if aware of her regard. The back of the luxury car suddenly felt tiny. All evening Lara had been acutely aware of Ciro, of his every movement as he’d taken her hand, or touched her arm, or the small of her back. Her skin felt tight and sensitive. Her body ached with a wholly new kind of yearning. And her lower body tightened with need every time his dark gaze rested on her. Like now.
She didn’t feel in control of herself at all any more. If she ever had around this man. And she hated it that he seemed so cool, calm and collected.
If he so much as touched her right now she knew she wouldn’t be able to control her reaction, but he surprised her by saying, ‘We’re going to stay in London for a few days. I have some meetings lined up.’
Lara hid her skittishness and said, ‘Fine.’
And then, just when she thought she could gather herself, he reached for her, taking her hand and tugging her across the divide in the seat, closer to him.
‘What are you doing?’ Lara cast a glance at the driver in front.
Ciro said something in Italian and the privacy window went up, cocooning them in the back of the blacked-out car. The streets outside faded into insignificance as Ciro’s hand sneaked around the back of Lara’s neck, where with deft fingers he loosened her hair so it tumbled over her shoulders.
Lara’s heart rate increased as Ciro’s fingers massaged her neck—and then his hand moved to where the dress was held up by the jewel over one shoulder.
Excitement curled low in her abdomen as she protested weakly, ‘Ciro...we’re in the back of the car...’
He said, ‘Do you know how hard it’s been for me to keep my hands off you all evening?’
She shook her head, mesmerised by the look on his face. She could see it now—the desire bubbling just under the surface, barely restrained—and she felt it reach out and touch her.
With a flick of his fingers the dress opened and loosened around her breasts. She gasped and put a hand up, but Ciro caught her hand and said roughly, ‘Leave it.’
Ciro peeled her dress down, uncovering her breasts. Lara shivered with a mixture of arousal and illicit excitement, aware of the people outside the car on the pavement, where they were stopped at some lights. Only the blacked-out windows and some steel and glass separated her from them and their eyes.
Ciro looked at her and cupped her naked breasts, thumbs moving back and forth over her nipples. ‘So beautiful,’ he breathed.
‘Ciro...’ Lara was almost panting. She stopped talking, afraid of exposing herself even more.
His dark head bent towards her, and when his mouth closed around one tight tingling nipple the spiking pleasure was so intense she speared her hands in his hair. She quickly got lost in the maelstrom Ciro had unleashed in her body, knowing that she was showing her weakness but unable to do anything about it...
* * *
Ciro looked at himself in the mirror of his bathroom and took in his glittering eyes and the still hectic colour on his cheekbones. When they’d returned to the townhouse a short while before Lara had all but fled up the stairs, holding up the top of her dress with one hand, her hair in a tangle.
Ciro had let her go, even though he’d wanted to carry her straight to his bedroom and to his bed. The only thing that had stopped him was the awful suspicion that he’d just exposed himself spectacularly.
Just an hour before he’d been talking with one of Europe’s heads of state, and within minutes of getting into a car with Lara he’d been all over her like a hormone-fuelled teenager.
He splashed cold water on his face, as if that might dilute the heat raging in his body. After a moment he went into his bedroom, restless and edgy. He looked at the interconnecting door between his and Lara’s rooms for a long moment before going over and opening it quietly.
She was in bed. Curled up on one side in a curiously childlike pose, her hair spread out on the pillow. Her breaths were deep and even.
Something about the fact that she could find the equilibrium of sleep so easily made him feel even more exposed.
He went back into his bedroom and closed the door. And then he did the only thing he could do to try and dilute the sexual frustration in his body. He headed for the gym.
* * *
As soon as Lara was sure that Ciro had left her room she turned on her back and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. She looked up at the ceiling.
She was in her underwear under the covers. She’d heard Ciro moving about next door, and after coming so spectacularly undone in the back of his car had felt far too raw to be able to deal with seeing him again. So she’d dived under the covers and feigned sleep even as her body had mocked her, aching for Ciro’s touch. For him to finish what he’d started.
This evening had been a salutary lesson in the reality of how this marriage would work. Ciro had used her with a ruthless and clinical precision to seek out meetings with the various people he was interested in talking to. She had to remember that was the focal point of the marriage—her desire to make amends to Ciro for what her uncle had done to him.
What she had done to him.
And the other stuff? The physical chemistry? The aching desire he’d awoken in her body?
A man of his extensive experience would surely lose interest soon. Wouldn’t he? And when he did she’d have to live with that. She’d lived with far worse, so she would cope. She’d have to.
* * *
The following days brought a reprieve of sorts for Lara. Ciro was out at meetings all day, and each evening he had a business dinner to attend, where she wasn’t required.
Like a coward, she’d taken the opportunity to make sure she was in bed by the time Ciro came home, pretending to be asleep if he came into her room.
She’d got used to her surroundings—just a stone’s
