His Virgin Acquisition (5 page)

It was the last part that kept her from saying yes. Without that scathing reminder that it would mean nothing
to him she might have agreed. But there was no way she could view sex as casually as he did. She didn’t have the experience or the sophistication to treat it as a recreational activity. Combined with the fact that she simply didn’t have the time to devote to discovering her sexuality.

“I can’t do that. I don’t…I don’t see sex as a
convenience.”
She took a breath, trying to conjure up that steely businesswoman she knew lived inside her somewhere. “What I mean is, I don’t sleep around.”

Marco stared at her flushed face, her red lips, her eyes still dark from passion. She wanted him, even if she couldn’t admit it yet. Or perhaps she was holding out until she felt it was most advantageous for her to give in. “That’s fine. But the clause stays in. If you want sex, you get it from your husband.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep her face neutral. “I don’t think I’ll be wanting any in the near future.”

He shrugged. “It’s up to you. I don’t have to coerce women into my bed.”

That was the absolute truth. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned him down—if there had ever been a time. He didn’t like it now. He liked it even less that his body seemed to have some sort of fixation on a woman who wasn’t fixated on him. It must be the novelty of it. It was unusual for him to have to pursue a woman. They came to him—frequently and easily. If he didn’t end up in bed with Elaine it would be easy enough to find someone else, seeing as there was nothing forbidding
him
from doing exactly that.

But the idea of Elaine being with another man while she was wearing his ring had made him see red. He had told the truth when he’d said he didn’t share. And in his mind marriage, even one of convenience, made her his. Old-fashioned
and unenlightened, yes, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

“You have an appointment with a bridal gown designer tomorrow at nine.”

“I have work,” she said sharply.

“I don’t care. The wedding takes priority right now.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Is this how it’s going to be, then? For the next twelve months you’re going to treat me like your personal doll?”

Marco shrugged. He seemed entirely unaffected by the kiss, and with her heartbeat still going erratically it irritated her.

“If that’s the way you want to look at it. Or you could simply view this as your newest job opportunity.”

“You know, you have a real talent for making me sound like a call girl.”

“And you have a real talent for wasting my time. If you want to see me, next time make an appointment.”

She drew up to her full height, but was careful not to get too close to him again. Desire and anger were still struggling for pride of place inside her. “I am your fiancée.”

“No. This is a business deal, as you’re so fond of pointing out, which makes you one of my business partners. Which means you make an appointment like they all do.”

She leaned all her weight onto one leg, pushed out her hip and settled her hand on it, in her best indignant pose. “And do you kiss all of your business partners the same way you did me?”

“If any of them looked like you, I might. As it is, I’ve never been tempted to try.”

It was difficult to decide whether to embrace anger at
his sheer male arrogance, or enjoy the sneaky glow of feminine pleasure she got from his underhanded compliment. In the end, it was the anger that won out. “I see. So you decided that because I’m a woman you can just kiss me whenever you like?”

He moved toward her, his dark eyes blazing with fury and something more compelling. “No. I kissed you because I wanted to. And
you
wanted me to.”

“Your ego is impressive.” She took a step back. “I didn’t want you to kiss me. As you mentioned, this is a business deal, and I never mix business with my personal life.” At least she was certain she wouldn’t if she
had
a personal life.

The mockery in his smile told her he didn’t believe her for a moment. “I know that this is all an affront to your feminist sensibilities, but for the purposes of this deal I’m your boss. You will do as I say. You will sign the prenup, and you will meet with the wedding coordinator tomorrow morning to choose your wedding dress.”

Everything in her raged out of control. Her hormones were still on red alert from the kiss, and her temper had just about reached its breaking point. She sucked in a calming breath. This was where years of training kicked in. Where she played the game. This was business. You fought the battles you could win, not the ones you were destined to lose.

“And will
you
be attending this bridal gown extravaganza?”

“Absolutely not. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the gown before the wedding.”

“I would imagine that it’s bad luck for the marriage to have a predetermined end date,” she returned crisply.

He acknowledged her comment with a slight smile, then turned, walked back to his desk and settled behind it. Apparently she was dismissed.

She turned to go.

“Elaine?”

She stopped at the sound of that sweet, honey-coated voice saying her name, sending waves of sensation through her body. Well, wasn’t
she
one to dramatize?

“I hope you don’t have plans tonight.”

She turned and arched her eyebrow. “Would it matter if I did?”

“Certainly. I would feel bad for asking you to break them.”

“You most
certainly
would not.”

The left corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile. “You’re right. I wouldn’t at all. I have a dinner party that I’m expected to attend tonight and I need a date.”

“Did you misplace your little black book?”

He gave her a pained look. “I don’t have a black book.” He picked up his gleaming cellphone and waved it. “That would be old-fashioned.”

She felt her lips thinning into an unattractive line. “You’re straight out of the Dark Ages. A BlackBerry isn’t going to fix that.”

“Nice to know you hold me in such high regard,
cara.
Did you drive here?”

She eyed him warily. “No. I took a cab.”

“Perfect. You can ride with me.”

“And if I have plans?”

“Cancel them. As per our agreement,” he said.

“As per your
demands.”

“If you like.” He seemed completely unconcerned by her anger, which only fanned the flame. “But I can hardly show up at this dinner without my new, highly publicized fiancé.”

“Just tell them your fiancée has a life, and doesn’t just hang on your arm professionally twenty-four hours a day.”

“Oh, they know you don’t do that. I’m sure they think you spend at least twelve hours wrapped around me in bed.”

She flushed, her vocal cords failing her. The images that were pinging through her brain were graphic, and much more intriguing than she’d like to admit.

She had done so well, burying any interest in the opposite sex beneath piles of ambition. Then she’d walked into Marco De Luca’s office and her long-ignored hormones had sprung to life and hadn’t left her alone since.

“In any case, I need you to play your part. This is business, remember?” He said the last part with a mocking edge to his voice.

“I won’t forget.”

The dinner party was hardly the intimate affair she’d imagined. There were at least two hundred of Manhattan’s most elite social movers in attendance, and it made it hard for her not to be grateful for the dress Marco’s efficient PA had provided for her at the last minute.

It was too short and too tight for her taste, but judging by the similarly bedecked Barbie dolls that were hanging on their date’s arms the look was par for the course.

Marco gave the stunning, reed-slim hostess a kiss on both cheeks before putting his hand on Elaine’s back and introducing her. “This is my fiancée, Elaine Chapman. Elaine, this is Caroline Vance. She’s the chairperson of the De Luca House charity.”

“Nice to meet you.” She shook the other woman’s perfectly manicured hand, and held back the questions that were forming in her mind. Marco had never mentioned that he had a charity, but his fiancée would certainly know all about it. Well, a real fiancée would at any rate. She was clueless.

“Nice to meet you too.” Caroline smiled warmly. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day when Marco would settle down. He’s always preferred life in the fast lane.” She shot Marco a teasing look. “I guess you’re merging into the carpool lane, huh?”

The smile on Marco’s face looked forced to Elaine, but Caroline didn’t seem to notice. “Yes. It was time. When I met Elaine I knew I couldn’t let her get away.”

“Welcome to the club. You’ll enjoy it.” She gave Marco’s arm a squeeze.

Marco paused and pulled his checkbook from his pocket, and filled in an amount that made Elaine’s eyes widen.

Caroline took the check from Marco’s hand, a broad smile on her pretty face. “He’s generous to a fault,” she said, her comment directed at Elaine.

Elaine smiled back, hoping she didn’t look as confused as she felt. “Yes, he is.”

Marco chuckled darkly as Caroline fluttered off to greet the next couple that was entering the ballroom. He took her arm and led her to a cluster of tables that were designed with intimacy in mind. They were small—so small that when she took her seat and Marco took his their knees brushed beneath the table. Her heart sputtered.

“All of the food, and all the prep work that went into the food was donated,” he explained. “The guests paid two hundred dollars for each plate. All of the proceeds will go to the De Luca House.”

She smiled. “That’s great. What is the charity for?”

A shadow passed over his face for a brief moment. “Homeless children. It’s an issue that’s close to my heart.”

She realized at that moment just how little she knew about the man sitting across from her. His background wasn’t exactly a mystery, but there hadn’t been a lot of information
on his childhood either. She’d found out through her careful research that his father had been a wealthy Sicilian businessman who had moved his family to New York when Marco had been a young teenager. But between that event and his meteoric rise to success in the real estate industry and beyond she hadn’t been able to find any details about his life. She’d just assumed he’d been growing up. Now she wondered. Marco claimed he was a self-made man, which meant that he’d built his empire up without the aid of his father’s riches.

She looked at him. He was engaged in a conversation with the couple next to them, his speech pattern eloquent, his manner perfect. His profile was aristocratic, and he wore tuxedos as though the whole concept of formalwear had been built around his physique. He didn’t look like a man who had ever struggled for anything.

At that moment, though, no amount of research into his background could have prepared her for the very disturbing effect Marco was having on her. She could hardly taste the gourmet dinner that had been prepared for the evening. Every few minutes her knees would brush Marco’s beneath the table, or someone would come to speak to Marco and congratulate them on their engagement, and Marco would take her hand and look lovingly into her eyes. Or, worse still, he would draw her hand to his lips and press a tender kiss to her knuckles and send the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach into tailspins.

When the plates were cleared, after-dinner drinks were served—which Elaine declined. Her defenses were weakened already. No sense at all throwing alcohol on the burning fire of her attraction to Marco. So instead she sat still in her chair, ramrod-straight, trying her best to smile at everyone who cast a glance in her direction, and trying
not to jump a foot in the air every time Marco’s leg made contact with hers.

Tinkling crystal distracted her, and Elaine looked across the room at Caroline, who was standing on a riser at the far end of the room.

Caroline cleared her throat and the hum of conversation diminished. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming this evening. Your support means a tremendous amount. And I’d like to introduce the founder of De Luca House—Mr. Marco De Luca.”

Marco gave her a wry smile, stood from his seat and bent down to drop a lingering kiss on her cheek before he crossed the long expanse of the room. She couldn’t help but notice the sheer masculine grace his movements possessed. He stepped on the stage, his magnetic presence drawing the attention of everyone in the room and holding them, spellbound, in the palm of his hand. Her included.

“Thank you all for being here.” His rich velvet voice rolled over the room. Her stomach tightened. “In these economic times I know making large contributions might seem like a lot to ask. But I ask you to remember that these children have likely never had the most basic necessities, even in the best of times. They don’t have food, or clothing, or even shelter. They give no thought to four-star restaurants when they would give anything for a loaf of bread. What does fashion mean to them when they don’t have a coat to protect them from the elements?”

Elaine felt her throat constricting as she looked into his earnest dark eyes. Something near her heart shifted, and she wished more than anything that she could make it shift back. Because lust was bad enough, new enough, scary enough, without there being emotion involved.

Marco continued, his slight accent making his speech
all the more compelling. “And how can we be concerned about keeping our summer homes when they do not even have the bare minimum of shelter?”

His speech went on, his words impassioned. He cited heart-wrenching statistics about how many of New York’s homeless were children who had fallen through the cracks in the system. The charity worked to provide those children with homes that would give them a sense of family, an education, and even occupational training. The vision was to provide them with a base they could always come back to, even after they reached legal age.

When Marco had finished, many of the guests were blinking back tears, and she had a feeling the emotions Marco had brought out in them would be reflected in their donations.

Marco made his way back to where she was standing, pausing at intervals to shake hands and direct people to the donation area.