he went over the morning reports with her.
Familiar ground, grazie a Dio. Perhaps now he could stop thinking about the way she smelled, about how delicate and feminine she seemed when he’d never quite noticed that about her before. Why had he noticed it now?
“We are attending a dinner at Robert Stein’s residence,” he said. “I am sure you realize why this is important.”
She gave a firm nod. “Stein Engineering has patented a new form of racing tire. You wish them to build tires exclusively for the Viper instead of using stock tires. It would be an advantageous partnership.”
“Ah, so you do pay attention in the meetings,” he teased.
She looked surprised. And somewhat offended. “Of course I do. It’s what you pay me for, Mr. D’Angeli.”
Yes, it was what he paid her for. And tonight, he was paying her for something different. He, Lorenzo D’Angeli, was paying a woman to pretend to be his date. It was ludicrous, and yet he found he was rather looking forward to the evening in a way he would not have been had Katie Palmer been sitting beside him.
The Katie Palmers of the world were too obvious in their desire to own him, too certain of their sex appeal, and too jealous of his time and attention. He always found it amusing at first, but he quickly tired of it.
He knew it was his own fault, because that was the sort of woman he chose. But he’d watched his sweet, fragile mother pine for love for years, and he’d watched her be hurt again and again. She took things too seriously, thought every new man was her savior.
Because of that, Renzo had studiously avoided the kind of women in his own life who couldn’t understand that sex was sex and love didn’t enter the equation. He didn’t believe in love, or at least not romantic love. If romantic love was real, then his mother should have found happiness years ago.
Faith wasn’t like the women he usually dated. She wasn’t superficial—and she wasn’t fragile, either. In fact, she was looking at him now with what he thought might be thinly veiled disgust. A hot feeling blossomed inside him.
A challenge. He loved challenges.
Renzo couldn’t quite stop himself from doing what he did next, if only to ruffle her cool. He reached for Faith’s hand, took it in his while he traced small circles in her palm with his thumb. Her breath drew in sharply, and he could feel a tremor slide through her body. A current of satisfaction coiled within him. She was not impervious, no matter how hostile she looked, and that pleased him.
“Do you not think, cara mia,” he purred, “that you should perhaps call me Renzo?”
CHAPTER TWO
FAITH’S skin sizzled beneath his touch, as if someone had dropped cool water onto hot coals. Her breath froze in her chest, and her voice refused to work as he traced little whorls in her palm. His hand was warm and solid, his thumb perhaps the most sensual thing she’d ever experienced as it moved softly against her skin.
Faith blinked as if it were a mirage that would disappear as soon as she did so. It did not.
Surely, then, she was asleep in her bed, dreaming that Renzo D’Angeli was holding her hand and speaking in a sultry voice that entreated her to call him by his first name.
Because this could not be real. She’d worked for him for six months, and he’d never once shown the slightest bit of interest in her as a woman. Not that she’d ever wanted him to. He was precisely the sort of man she despised the most: handsome, arrogant and certain he was entitled to excessive adoration.
But he was not noticing her in that way. It was impossible. He was simply playing along with the expectation they would be less formal together when she was posing as his date.
Yes, that must be it. Of course.
“I will try, Mr. D—Renzo,” she said quietly, her heart beating in her ears.
“Much better,” he said, smiling his lady-killer smile. But the thumb didn’t stop moving and a tendril of heat made its way up her arm and down through her core, pooling in the deepest, most secretive part of her. It figured. Of all the men to affect her, it would be this one. A man she couldn’t have in a bazillion years, even if she’d wanted him.
Which she did not. He was gorgeous, but about as trustworthy as the viper he’d named his motorcycle after.
She wanted him to let her go. And she didn’t. The languidness stealing over her at his touch was addictive. What would she feel if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her? Would she lose her mind the way his other women did?
The thought was not a pleasant one. She’d already lost her mind over a man—or at least everyone thought she had—and she had no desire to experience that ever again. One second of stupidity, and Jason Moore had shattered her trust in men—in people—forever.
She was just about to ask Renzo to let her go when his phone rang.
“Perdono,” he said before he took the call.
Faith folded her hands over her evening bag and watched the news ticker on the muted television screen across from her. That had been close. She didn’t like feeling even remotely attracted to this man. She pictured Katie Palmer sashaying out of his office just a few days ago, lipstick smudged, hair mussed, and felt her dislike of him swell.
Yes. That was precisely how it was supposed to be.
Faith shifted in her seat. She’d ridden in his limo before, accompanying him to meetings across town, but this was the first time she’d sat here in an evening gown. When she’d gone to Saks today, she’d been surprised to be met by a personal shopper whom Renzo had arranged for her.
Faith had viewed gown after gown, the personal shopper growing perplexed, to say the least, when she refused the more daring dresses that showed too much cleavage or leg. Obviously Renzo had a preferred style he liked his women to wear. And Faith had been determined to wear what she liked, regardless of who was paying for the gown.
When the woman had brought the lavender gown out, Faith had known it was the one. When she put this dress on, she felt elegant, pretty and demure enough to please even her upright father.
Renzo finished his phone call and turned to her. “I need you to stay by my side tonight,” he said. “It is very important that you do so.”
Faith swallowed. “Of course, Mr—Renzo.”
She could see his frown in the light from the television. “I’m counting on you, Faith. You have never failed me yet.”
But she had disappointed him when she’d nearly called him Mr. D’Angeli again, and it bothered her. Because this was part of the job and he expected her to be able to do what he asked. It shouldn’t be difficult, yet she was letting her nerves get the best of her.
Faith turned her head to look out the window as she pressed her fingernails into her palm and dug in. She would do a good job. Because he’d asked her to, and she’d agreed. She owed him that much. Tonight was important to the success of the Viper.
She knew that the Viper meant everything to him. How many times had she left the office late while he was still there,
