CHAPTER FIVE

ROMANWAITEDIMPATIENTLY on the terrazzo, aware of his housekeeper giving him the evil eye as she laid out the lavish lunch he'd ordered while waiting for Milly to put in an appearance.

‘Do you want anything else, signor?' Giuliana asked in Italian, the question perfectly polite, the tone anything but. His housekeeper hadn't commented on the young woman still hiding in his bathroom, but it had been fairly obvious what she—and no doubt her husband and the rest of his staff—were already thinking.

That their boss was a vile seducer who had taken advantage of poor little Milly Devlin today, after kidnapping her last night. From the sharp, judgmental frown on the older woman's face, he was probably fortunate she hadn't already called the polizia.

‘No, grazie, Giuliana,' he said, grateful when she gave a stiff nod and left.

If only he could dismiss Giuliana's judgment as easily. He knew full well Milly had enjoyed her time in his bed, she'd even begged him for release—more than once. Damn it.

But the niggling feeling of shame remained lodged in his solar plexus.

At least, he had managed to calm down enough in the shower to get things in perspective—and make some crucial observations while waiting for Giuliana to finish serving the lunch.

He'd overreacted. That much was obvious. Just because he'd taken a woman's virginity, it didn't make him anything like his old man. After all, he hadn't done it deliberately. Milly's innocence, and her hyper-responsiveness to him, had captivated him and made him want her, a lot, but who said the two were linked? And anyway, how could he have known her innocence was genuine, when she hadn't told him he was her first?

And if he hadn't known she was a virgin, how could he be accused of deliberately exploiting her innocence, like the man who had seduced his mother as a teenager, made her his mistress, got her pregnant and then dumped her without a backward glance.

Roman might be rich, but he'd given Milly a clear choice and she'd taken it. And unlike his mother, who had been barely eighteen and still at school when she'd had the bad luck to catch his father's roving eye, Milly could hardly be described as fragile or vulnerable. Not only was she more than capable of holding her own with him, she'd tried to steal his boat!

They were consenting adults, with a rare, visceral chemistry that they had both enjoyed. And most importantly of all, he'd worn a condom. He hadn't been careless or cavalier, he'd protected her. Plus, he'd been aware of her pleasure, every step of the way.

And the kidnap thing had never been serious. It had been a joke. Mostly.

The prickle of shame niggled, though, as his gaze swept across the breathtaking view from the bedroom's terrace. The large pool below sparkled in the sunlight, the blue water highlighting the Blackbeard logo he'd had installed in marble mosaic tiles on the pool's bottom. Then there were the formal gardens, which were kept pristine all year round by a team of gardeners, the pool house and two other guest villas, the lemon and olive groves that led down to his private dock, where he kept a sailing clipper, the motor launch Milly had tried to pinch and the dinghy they had used to return from the cove. Of course, he also had a luxury super-yacht, which was currently anchored in the bay and which he barely used. And the helicopter and private jet he owned to travel to his different homes—in Mayfair, the Hamptons, Rome and the Cayman Islands—and his business headquarters and penthouse apartments on Manhattan's Upper West Side and the City of London.

Okay, he wasn't just rich, he was phenomenally rich. Much richer now than the bastard who had broken his mother's heart had ever been. But he'd always believed his wealth—the luxuries he enjoyed, the homes and properties he had acquired—were the justifiable rewards for his success. He hadn't used them to exploit anyone.

He'd worked extremely hard to throw off the shackles of the poverty he'd grown up in. But as he stared at the view, surveying the riches he had accumulated over the past decade and a half, he found himself wondering how much of his drive and ambition had come from the desire to escape his miserable origins, and how much had been a need to prove he was better than the Cades. Better not just than Alfred Cade, but also his half-brother, Brandon. The man who had inherited everything, when he had inherited nothing.

He thrust his hand through his hair, hating the direction of his thoughts, and the feeling of shame he couldn't quite shake. Because it was forcing him to acknowledge his reasons for bringing Milly here hadn't been a joke. Not entirely. After all, he'd known who she was, who she was connected to, even if he had also wanted her, as soon as he'd caught her driving his boat.

It had never even occurred to him until now that his pursuit of wealth might not all have been about lifting him and his mother out of poverty. Might it also have been the low-burning anger and sense of injustice that had marred so much of his childhood? Because if that was true, it was beyond pathetic.

He frowned.

Okay, get over yourself.

Where was all this existential angst coming from?

Was this a symptom of the burn-out too? Because he was basically re-examining his whole life and career trajectory based on one booty call, just because he'd discovered Milly Devlin was a virgin.

He heard a polite cough and swung round.

At last.

Milly stood on the terrace behind him, looking sheepish and way too cute in her borrowed cut-offs and the worn vest, her cheeks reddened from his kisses.

The shaft of longing surged through him again. Rich and fierce and fluid.

Apparently, their chemistry was even stronger now he knew what it was like to see her expressive face contort with pleasure and feel her massaging him to orgasm.

Terrific.

He straightened away from the terrace railing and shoved his fists into the pockets of his sweatpants. Because he wanted to touch her again. And that wasn't going to happen until they got a few things straight.

But something about his visceral reaction also felt like a vindication. One thing was for damn sure, his motivations for sleeping with Milly Devlin hadn't had anything to do with her connection to Brandon Cade, and everything to do with the kinetic chemistry they shared.

The last of his shame and confusion began to release its stranglehold on his throat when her eyes met his and what he saw in her expression was guarded determination. Not fear or vulnerability. Yet more evidence he had totally overreacted.

Time to defuse the situation, before it got more awkward.

‘How about we start over, Milly?' he said.

At exactly the same time as she said, ‘I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was a virgin.'

‘Okay,' he managed, the earnest apology starting to make him feel like a bully again. He shouldn't have browbeaten her about her inexperience.

Her virginity had only freaked him out because of stuff in his past that had nothing to do with her... Or what they'd shared in his bed—which had been great. And not a lot to do with him either. He hadn't chosen to be fathered by a man who took pleasure in exploiting and hurting virgins. So why had he framed their lovemaking according to that man's sins?

But before he could say any of that, she launched into a heartfelt little speech.

‘Honestly, it didn't even occur to me to tell you,' she rushed on. ‘I didn't think you'd care. It wasn't that big a deal to me, so I didn't think it would be that big a deal to you. And the only reason I'm still a virgin at twenty-two is because my family life was pretty complicated for a while and I just didn't have the time to date like the other girls in school.'

‘Complicated how?' he asked before he could stop himself.

This was just a booty call. But he'd already taken it to the next level with his freak-out... And he was desperately curious to know, why hadn't she slept with anyone before him? When she was such an eager, artless and enthusiastic lover?

She shrugged. ‘It's kind of a boring story...'

‘We've got time,' he prompted.

‘Okay, if you really want to know.' She sighed. ‘Basically, when my mum died, I was only fifteen and Lacey was just eighteen, and our father—who had a new family by then—wasn't interested in being a dad to us, too. Luckily, social services gave Lacey custody of me, but it was really important to me not to be too much of a burden, which meant I didn't have time to party and do all those normal teenage things. Then Lacey got pregnant the year after and we had Ruby to look after.'

Anger twisted in Roman's gut. That would be Brandon Cade's daughter—who the bastard hadn't acknowledged for four years.

‘I did the bulk of the childcare, after school, because Lacey had to work.' She glanced at him and her expression brightened. ‘Don't get me wrong, we both adored Ruby from the moment she was born. She was never a burden or anything.'

Like hell she wasn't, Roman thought resentfully. The child had been Cade's responsibility, but he'd shirked it. It just made him despise the man more.

‘But Lacey was the one with the career as a journalist, so it made sense for me to look after Rubes...pick her up from the childminder and then the nursery after I finished school, stuff like that.' Milly was still talking, but Cade's failure to live up to his responsibilities only annoyed Roman more. Why had Lacey and Milly accepted the man's behaviour so easily? And how could Milly like the man now, when he had effectively stolen so much of her adolescence?

‘I loved watching Ruby grow and...'

‘Okay, hold up,' he said, raising his palm to stop Milly from waxing lyrical about being made responsible for the care of a child that wasn't even hers.

He also didn't want to hear another word about how that bastard had robbed Milly of her teenage years. Because it would just make him more involved, and he was already involved enough.

But her forthright explanation also made it even more obvious he'd overreacted about her virginity. And turned a hook-up that should have been fun and exhilarating into something awkward and emotional.

The window she had given him into her past—and the news she had also been abandoned by her father—bothered him, too. Because it seemed they shared more than he had realised. After all, he knew what it felt like to have your father not give a damn about you. But he didn't like how much he was starting to admire and sympathise with Milly.

Because these feelings were way too intense for a casual hook-up.

‘You don't owe me an apology, or an explanation,' he managed, round the thickness in his throat. ‘In fact, I probably owe you one. I overreacted about the virginity thing. And you were right, it was none of my business.'

She nodded, then sighed, her face softening with relief. ‘Okay. Thank you. Apology accepted. Does that mean we don't have to talk about it anymore?' she asked, her hopeful expression nothing short of adorable.

‘Absolutely,' he said, as relieved as she was to end the conversation.

‘Oh, thank goodness,' she said with such enthusiasm, he laughed. ‘Because that was excruciating.'

Adrenaline shot into his bloodstream. And then straight beneath his belt.

‘Agreed,' he said as the last of the shame finally took a hike.

Milly Devlin was captivating and fascinating. And he'd always found her transparency extremely hot. He was glad that hadn't changed.

Now they'd got the awkward out of the way, and he'd got being her first lover into perspective, he couldn't help thinking her lack of experience, while problematic, was also a turn-on.

She'd never made love to another man. Which meant no other man had experienced her exquisite responsiveness, or her forthright pursuit of pleasure. While he was not a possessive guy, why shouldn't he make the most of the chance to explore that more?

Milly Devlin was a woman who enjoyed sex, and she wasn't afraid to show it. She didn't seem to have a cautious or coy bone in her body. She was reckless and impulsive and held nothing back—even though she had no clue what she was doing—and there was something unbearably erotic about that.

Not to mention the fact she had given him one of the best orgasms of his life already. So why not press for more while she was here? After all, he had nothing else to do.

He'd never seen himself in the role of a sexual Svengali before, had always preferred when women told him exactly what they wanted. But the thought of giving Milly the benefit of his expertise and watching her indulge a part of herself she'd been forced to deny was something he could get behind one hundred per cent.

He was more than ready to devote himself to the cause.

‘How about we eat...?' he offered, by way of changing the subject completely.

But as he placed his hand on her lower back, and felt her tremble, the need and longing shot through him. As she let him seat her at the terrace table, he couldn't help thinking that one night would not be enough to enjoy all this intoxicating woman had to offer... And he had to offer her in return, sexual Svengali-wise.

And having her here had the potential to make the next two weeks—which, when the doctor had recommended this break, had stretched before him like a smorgasbord of boredom—a whole lot more exciting.

Milly sipped the delicate wine from a local vineyard that Roman apparently owned—if the Azienda Agricola Blackbeard mentioned on the label was anything to go by—and watched Roman finish off another helping of Giuliana's delicious antipasti.

She was stuffed, having dug into the food with more enthusiasm than necessary, probably because she was starving after all the physical activity of earlier, and beyond grateful the ‘virginity' conversation had been blessedly short and hadn't had any of the consequences she'd been expecting.

Most important of which was, he hadn't asked her to leave.

He had been tense when she'd explained exactly why she had still been a virgin at twenty-two. And she wasn't entirely sure why. She also couldn't help wondering why he had overreacted so spectacularly earlier, especially as he seemed to be totally over it now.

But as he polished off the last of Giuliana's delicately spiced carpaccio—his appetite even more voracious than her own—she knew she wasn't going to ask him. Because that would just bring back the awkward, and ruin the rest of the hours they had left together, which were already going by too fast.

She studied the stunning view of Roman with Vesuvius on the horizon, and imagined the imposing composition in pen and ink. The man juxtaposed with the volcano was such a fundamental yet vivid expression of power and danger and volatility.

She attempted to imprint the image in her memory to draw later, if she ever found the time, when she got back to Genoa.

He glanced up from his plate. And his intense gaze locked on her face—making her skin prickle with awareness. And her heart hitch in her chest. Why did she get the impression he could read every one of her thoughts? All the time? And why was it both disturbing, and incredibly hot?

‘Problem?' he asked.

‘Not at all,' she said, and sent him her best I'm sophisticated smile.

He put down his fork and studied her some more, sending the prickle of awareness to some even more disturbing places.

‘Are you sure there's nothing, because you looked as if you wanted to ask me something,' he said, the husky tone and the twinkle in his eye suggesting he was aware of the prickle.

‘I don't suppose you'd let me sketch you?' she blurted out, because she did not want to give in to the prickle, yet.

She was still tender from their lovemaking earlier. And getting Roman back into bed too soon would make the rest of their day together go even faster. Plus, she enjoyed spending time with him out of bed, too. He intrigued her. The man was a puzzle in so many ways. And it was kind of thrilling to be this man's lover, however temporarily.

He looked momentarily dumbfounded by her request. But then his lips quirked in a wicked smile. ‘What? Naked?'

‘No, not naked, Mr One-Track Mind!' she replied, wanting to be outraged at the suggestion, but knowing she wasn't, because she was far too turned on instead.

A life drawing of Roman Garner would be quite something. She swallowed down the ball of lust forming in her throat, determined not to get sidetracked. Again.

‘Actually, I'd like to sketch you here, with the volcano in the background. It's an arresting image. And then I could finish the work later...' She huffed. ‘If I can find the time.'

‘How would you envision using my image, exactly?' he asked, confusion turning to scepticism. She recognised that look from yesterday night, when he'd caught her ‘borrowing' his boat—and accused her of stealing it. The man was nothing if not suspicious. But this time, she was not going to let his trust issues get to her.

‘I usually do a pencil drawing, then I build on that using ink and watercolours or acrylics, depending on what works best,' she began, giving him way more information than he needed, but wanting him to know her art was one thing she took very seriously. ‘But I don't do faces,' she continued because he hadn't said anything. ‘You're in silhouette at the moment because the sun is starting to set and those shapes are what I'd want to work with. Anonymity preserves the image's power and the exquisite quality of the light suits what I want to do with the composition. But, if I ever get a chance to show the work, which is highly debatable given my track record so far,' she muttered, in the interests of full disclosure, even though it made her heart sink to admit to him what a failure she was, ‘no one will be able to tell it's you, I promise.'

She picked up her wine glass and drained it, much more nervous now about his reaction than she'd been when she'd agreed to sleep with him. Or when he'd figured out she was a virgin, even though his reaction then had been a lot more volatile.

She waited for him to say something, anything really, getting more anxious by the second when he just continued to stare at her. His brows flattened and he tilted his head to one side, the quizzical expression intense, as if he were trying to figure out something really complicated.

Then his eyes sparkled with understanding, and he smiled. ‘You're an artist!'

‘Well, yes, I'm trying to be one,' she said, not sure why he seemed so pleased with himself.

‘That's what you really want to do,' he said. ‘Instead of being a waitress or a tour guide. You want to create art and show your work.'

‘Eventually, yes,' she said, although it hadn't really been a question. Why did he look as if he'd just discovered the meaning of life? ‘That's the plan anyway, but first I have to get a decent portfolio together.'

‘So why haven't you done it?' he asked. ‘Instead of doing menial jobs which take up all your free time?'

‘Um...maybe because I have to do this really annoying thing called eating,' she snapped, irritated they seemed to have returned to the Why-is-Milly-a-pauper? conversation. ‘And paying rent. Plus, they're not menial jobs.'

Of course, Roman Garner didn't understand why she had to work for a living, the man owned a private island, but did he really have to be quite this blunt?

‘Listen, if you don't want me to sketch you that's perfectly fine,' she continued as her stomach clutched with disappointment. ‘Just say so,' she finished, even though it hurt to know she would never get to realise the spellbinding image of Roman and the Volcano.

‘What if I told you I have a better idea?' he replied, then picked up the fist she had clenched on the table, by her empty glass, and lifted it to his lips.

She shuddered, aware of the hunger in his eyes—and the answering hunger in her abdomen—when he eased open her fingers and pressed his lips to her palm.

‘What idea?' she asked, getting sidetracked by those nibbling kisses, and the prickle that had morphed into a buzz now and was doing interesting things to the hot spot between her thighs, despite her best intentions.

‘How about,' he said, still playing fast and loose with her hand, ‘instead of going back to Genoa to work your two not-menial jobs—you stay here as my guest for the next two weeks and work on your portfolio?'

‘You're not... You're not serious? Why would you do that? You hardly know me.'

Roman grinned at the flicker of astonishment in Milly's eyes—and the glitter of hope.

‘I know enough...' he said, stroking his thumb across the pulse point battering her wrist. ‘And I like having you here.'

Awareness darkened her eyes, and the spark of attraction fired the air, but then she tugged her hand out of his grasp.

‘I can't accept,' she said, although he could see the bone-deep disappointment.

‘Why not?' he asked, genuinely stumped by her refusal.

This solution was perfect. She needed someone who would give her time away from working menial jobs so she could dedicate herself to the work she clearly loved. And he wanted company for the next two weeks, so he could get the downtime his doctor had ordered without dying of boredom. He wasn't an art expert, and he had no idea if she was any good, but he'd seen the passion in her face, heard the purpose in her voice when she'd described the work she wanted to create. He knew what it was like to have a vision. So why shouldn't he help her facilitate this one?

‘You know why,' she said, her gaze locking on his, the embarrassed flush making her cheeks glow.

‘Actually, no, I don't. You just said you want to sketch me, and...' He cleared his throat, a bit uncomfortable at the thought of having anyone paint him. ‘Although I'm not one hundred per cent on board with that, because I'm not great at sitting still for long periods of time, I'm up for it. If that's what you need.'

She sent him a level look. ‘Yes, but that's not all you're up for, is it?' she said as her gaze flicked to his crotch, to emphasise her point.

‘True.' He laughed. ‘Are you saying you're not up for that too, then?' he countered.

The flush on her cheeks heated, but the awareness flared.

Gotcha.

‘Well, no,' she stuttered, comprehensively hoist by her own petard.

He lifted his palms off the table, in a gesture of surrender—even though it was anything but.

‘Hey, there's no need to get your panties in a wad, Milly,' he added, tickled by the combination of heat and indignation in her expression. ‘My offer comes with no strings attached. I can ask Giuliana to source you all the art supplies you need from Naples. As my guest you can stay in any room you want and paint for two weeks straight without even having to talk to me. If you don't wish to work on your booty-call portfolio too—even though it has been sadly neglected up to now,' he added, attempting an expression of regret. Not easy when the thought of inducting Milly into the Booty Call Hall of Fame was making the adrenaline rush sink into his shorts. ‘With a guy who knows how to make you beg and is more than willing to dedicate himself to your "sex education",' he teased, doing finger quotes. ‘But if the answer is no, just say so. No pressure, whatsoever.'

Her eyebrows rose towards her hairline, but she couldn't keep a straight face. ‘My sex education...?' Her husky chuckle was a delightful mix of disbelief and desire. ‘That's very altruistic of you, to offer to be my teacher in all things bootylicious.'

‘I thought so,' he said magnanimously. Making her laugh more.

Standing, he grasped her wrist and tugged her out of her chair until he had her back in his arms. He leaned against the railing, banding his arms around her waist. Funny that she felt so right standing with him in the sunlight. The warmth in her golden eyes wrapped around his chest, another new experience for him. Sex—or the promise of sex—had never made him feel this good before. But he decided not to question it as he cradled her cheek and absorbed the rush of anticipation. ‘What do you say? Wanna stay here and paint, while also getting a diploma from a master sexologist in Mind-Blowing Orgasms for Beginners?'

She grinned. ‘Your ego is actually out of control right now, you do know that?'

‘And your point would be...?' he teased.

His ego had always been robust, and he'd never been ashamed of that, but the vivid approval in her eyes had brought some of the fizzing excitement back he'd always taken for granted...

The next two weeks held so many more possibilities now... He could beat this burn-out, get his mojo back and figure out where he wanted to take his business next, while she took a shot at her dreams.

And he actually couldn't wait to take his own sweet time exploring their chemistry.

‘Yes or no, Milly, it's a simple question,' he said, then dragged her flush against him, so she could feel how much he wanted her. And he could kiss the pulse point in her neck, which he knew would drive her wild.

She huffed out a laugh, then plunged her fingers into his hair, to draw his head up.

‘No fair kissing me while I'm trying to decide,' she said, but he could see the acceptance in her eyes already. And the fizz of excitement went nuts.

It was actually an effort not to push, not to press, to keep his cool when he murmured, ‘Well, then, hurry up. Because if I get any more invested and the answer's no I'm looking at another two-mile swim to the cove to cool off again.'

It was precisely the right thing to say, he realised, when her expression became joyful and her breathing became a little ragged.

So, Milly Devlin was a praise junkie. He filed the thought away, to use to his advantage at a later date.

‘Okay, I'll stay, but you've got to make me a promise...' she said, the teasing light in her eyes taking on a wistful glow. ‘Several promises actually.'

He didn't usually negotiate over sex, or make promises, of any kind, to the women he slept with. Because he would inevitably have to break them. But he was willing to make an exception in Milly's case, because she was different from his previous dates. She was innocent while also having been forced to mature way too soon, and if she had any unrealistic expectations about his offer, he owed it to them both to debunk them now.

‘Fire away,' he said, willing to be flexible about his usual rules, up to a point.

But then she surprised him. ‘You mustn't fall in love with me. I don't want to get over-invested, so neither should you.'

His lips quirked at the serious expression on her face, which was a fascinating mix of guilelessness and pragmatism. ‘Not a problem,' he replied. ‘I'm a master at not getting over-invested. And love's not something I need.'

There was no chance he would fall in love with her, however captivating she was, because he simply didn't do that level of emotional engagement with anyone.

‘My ego's way too big for that,' he offered, then added, ‘So you better make sure you don't fall in love with me either.' Although, he decided, she was way too smart to make that mistake—which made the next two weeks even more perfect. He wouldn't have to hold back, wouldn't have to pretend he felt something for her he didn't, because, on some level, he knew she understood he had nothing but sexy times to offer her.

She nodded. ‘I won't.'

‘Anything else?'

‘You agree to pose for me naked, if I promise not to show the work.'

He laughed but the sound was raw and husky, and the ridge in his pants shot straight to critical mass. ‘You drive a hard bargain.'

She swivelled her hips against his, trapping his erection and making him groan. ‘It seems I'm not the only one,' she said, the challenging tone making his excitement hit fever pitch. ‘Yes or no, Garner, do we have a deal?' she mocked. ‘It's a simple question.'

‘Yes, damn it,' he said, then boosted her into his arms.

As she laughed and wrapped her legs around his waist, he wondered who was seducing whom, here. With his hands massaging her butt, he marched across the terrace towards the bedroom. She laughed breathlessly as he threw her onto the bed, then climbed on top of her.

Grabbing her wrists, he lifted her arms above her head and anchored them there with one hand, while using the other to tug up her vest and expose her beautiful breasts to his gaze.

‘Here begins lesson one,' he declared, before dragging his tongue across one tight peak. He captured the swollen flesh between his teeth and gave it a gentle tug.

She bucked against his hold, her incoherent sob like music to his ears.

‘Pay attention, Milly,' he said as he worked his free hand into her cut-offs and found her wet and ready. ‘Because you're going to be tested later...'

She undulated her hips to increase the friction, while he teased her with his fingers. ‘Yes, sir,' she groaned. ‘Now please get on with it...sir.'

He chuckled at her impatient demand, before concentrating on teaching his first formal class in Mind-Blowing Orgasms for Beginners.