looked at him. He was intense.
‘Are you saying you want to stay in Venice for the night to share my bed, Leila?’
She hated it that he was making her spell it out, but she lifted her chin and said, ‘If you’re not interested—’
His hand tightened on hers. ‘Oh, I’m interested. I just want to make sure you’re not going to regret this in the morning and blame it on too much wine.’
Leila stared back, suppressing an urge to say I’m blaming it on much more than that. He wouldn’t understand. ‘I want this—even if it’s just one night.’
Alix interlaced his fingers with hers. It felt like a shockingly intimate caress.
‘It won’t be one night, Leila, I can guarantee that.’
She shivered lightly. The way he said that sounded like a vow. Or a promise.
‘Signor Alix...?’
He didn’t even look at his friend. He just said, ‘We’re finished, Giorgio, thank you.’
But it was a long moment before Alix broke his gaze from hers and let go of her hand to stand up.
Leila couldn’t remember much of leaving the restaurant, or of the boat ride along the magical Grand Canal at night. She was only aware of Alix’s strong thighs beside hers on the seat, his arm tight around her shoulders, his hand resting disturbingly close to the curve of her breast.
She was only aware that she was finally leaving a part of her life behind and stepping into the unknown.
She couldn’t believe she’d been so forward, and yet she knew that even if given a choice she wouldn’t turn back now. This man had unlocked some deep secret part of her and she wanted to explore it. She didn’t care about the fact that Alix Saint Croix was famous or rich or royalty. She was interested in the man. He called to her on a very basic level that no one had ever touched before.
And as the boat scythed through the choppy waters she reassured herself that she was going into this with eyes wide open. No romantic illusions. She was not starry-eyed any more. Pierre had seen to that when she’d let him woo her. That had been just after the death of her mother, when she’d been at her most vulnerable. She wasn’t vulnerable any more. And Leila had no intention of shutting herself away like a nun for the rest of her life.
They were approaching a building now—another grand palazzo. A man stood on the small landing dock and threw a rope to the driver. They came alongside the wooden jetty and Alix jumped nimbly out of the boat before turning back to lift Leila out as easily as if she weighed nothing.
As he let her down on the jetty he kept her close to his body, and her eyes widened when she felt her belly brush against a very hard part of him. Her pulse quickened and between her legs she felt damp.
Then he turned, and held her hand as he strode through the open doors. Leila had to almost run to keep up and she tugged at his hand. He looked back, something stark etched onto his face. She refused to let it intimidate her.
‘What is this place?’
‘It belongs to a friend—he’s away.’
‘Oh...’
A petite older woman dressed in black approached them and Alix exchanged some words with her in fluent Italian. It was only then that Leila looked around and took in the grandeur of the reception hall. The floor was marble, and there were massive stone columns stretching all the way up to a ceiling that was covered in very old-looking frescoes.
Then Alix was tugging her hand again and they were following the woman up the main staircase. The eyes from numerous huge stern portraits followed their progress and Leila superstitiously avoided looking at them, sensing a judgment she wasn’t really blasé enough to ignore in spite of her bravado.
The corridor they walked into had thick carpet, muffling their footsteps. Massive ornate wooden doors were closed on each side. At the end of the corridor the woman came to some double doors and opened them wide, standing aside so they could go in.
Leila’s breath stopped. It was the most stunningly sumptuous suite of rooms she’d ever seen. She let go of Alix’s hand and walked over to where the glass French doors were open, leading out to a stone balcony overlooking a smaller canal.
She heard the door close softly and looked behind her to see Alix standing in the centre of the room, hands in his pockets, legs wide. Chest broad.
He took a hand out of his pocket and held it out. Silently Leila went to him, kicking off her sandals as she did so.
When she got to Alix, he drew her chiffon wrap off her shoulders and it drifted to the floor beside them. Then he reached around to the back of her head and removed the pin holding her hair up. It fell around her shoulders in a heavy silken curtain and he ran his hand through the strands.
‘I wanted to do this the moment I saw you,’ he said.
Feeling suddenly vulnerable, she blurted out, ‘Did you really not sleep with that woman after you pulled the curtains that night?’
His grey gaze bored into hers. ‘No, I did not sleep with Carmen that night. I wouldn’t lie to you about that, Leila.’
She found that she believed him, but she still had to battle the insidious suspicion that he would say whatever he wanted to get her into bed. Not that he’d had to say much—she’d all but begged him!
Furiously she blocked out the raising clamour of voices and reached up, touching her mouth to his. ‘Take me to bed, Alix,’ she whispered.
AGAINST THE MUTED lighting of the opulent suite Alix looked every inch the powerful man he was. He took up so much space, and a sudden flutter of fear clutched at Leila’s belly. Could she really handle a man like this?
But then he took her hand and led her into another room. The bedroom.
Its furnishings were ridiculously, gloriously lush. A four-poster, canopied bed stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by thick velvet drapes held back by decorative rings. Through the windows Leila could see the Grand Canal, and boats moving up and down. The curtains fluttered in the breeze and yet she was hot. Burning up.
Alix came and stood in front of her. Leila was at eye level with the middle of his chest. Never more than now had she been so aware of his sheer masculinity and strength. She wished she had the nerve to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t. The boldness that had led her here seemed to be fleeing in the face of the stark reality facing her.
Alix tipped up her chin with a curled forefinger and Leila couldn’t escape his gaze.
‘We’ll take this slow.’
Leila swallowed. So much for trying to repel him with her inexperience. His eyes burned. And something melted inside her at his consideration. He pulled her forward then, until her breasts were touching his body, her nipples tightening in reaction. Both his hands went to her jaw, caressing the delicate bone structure before tilting her face upwards. And then his head
