Page 46 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

It astonished him, the way that she was so... Resilient. Even so soundly out of water as she was. A little fish who shone brightly in spite of it all. He thought of how he had tried to chop wood and cook at the bed-and-breakfast. The way that he had tried to bend himself to care for her when she was ill. He had made a mess of everything. It had been torturous. And none of that torture was visible here, now with her.

“Let us go,” he said.

He was about to put his arm out, but she closed the distance between them and held his hand. “I will probably need a coat,” she said.

“Yes, of course.”

He knew that one had been placed in the coat closet by the door, and he opened it up, producing a white, faux fur dress that would fall nearly to her ankles.

He put it on her, slowly. Her scent mesmerized him. The way she looked up at him. He was held in thrall for a moment. Perhaps this was what it was like when one got to know a lover. He had no experience of that. Sex was a need that he wrapped tightly in control. Because to share with someone else was to engage in give-and-take. Never his strong suit.

But perhaps this was the other side of it. The benefit. He had always imagined that one would grow bored with a lover eventually, and yet he found himself growing more and more intrigued by his.

She held his hand again as they made their way down to the front of the building, and got into the waiting limousine.

“Very fancy,” she said.

They had only taken a town car from the airport.

“It is meant to give us room,” he said.

Her brows lifted. “For what?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. Perhaps you could think of something.”

“I have only just put this dress on. I’m not taking it back off.”

He growled. He hadn’t even meant to do that.

Her eyes went wide. “Feral.”

“I’m not feral,” he said.

“You kind of are. Strange, feral man. In the most luxurious of surroundings. And yet... You don’t quite know what to do with people. Do you?”

“I am very good with people. My position demands it.”

“Are you good with people, or do you find yourself in a position of power over them and they respond accordingly?”

“What is the difference?”

She shook her head and leaned back against the seat. “Nothing of note to you, I suppose.”

“You mean if I did not have power, people would not treat me with deference.”

She shook her head. “No. They wouldn’t. And that actually has nothing to do with your personality. That’s just life.”

He didn’t like that thought, because it made him feel powerless. It made him feel like his position in the world was tenuous. It made him feel like a small boy again. Because he could remember well what it had been like when he had no influence in his life, in his house growing up. And for just a moment, he had the flickering glance that she would not be here if he didn’t have power over her life.

If he hadn’t manipulated her.

He pushed that to the side, because there was no benefit to the thought whatsoever.

None whatsoever.

The car pulled up to the gala venue, a stately museum with vast steps, and pillars.

He was gratified by the look on her face. Because he was giving her something. This was an experience far outside her own, and she might not have known that she wanted it, but he would see that she benefited from it. And it didn’t matter then, why she was here. It didn’t matter. Because the truth was, he had the control.

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