Page 23 of On His Bride's Terms

‘I had a meeting to get to. And a flight back to New York.’

‘I felt like a cheap one-night stand.’

Faye scoffed. ‘You’re telling me that you routinely encourage your lovers to hang out the morning after?’

He lifted his hand, where his wedding ring gleamed. ‘I’m a married man now.’

Faye couldn’t help a pulse of pleasure at this sign that he was taken. By her. He’d also neatly deflected her question.

Primo tucked her hand into his arm and said, ‘Let’s go meet the jackals, shall we?’

Faye couldn’t help her surprised huff of laughter as Primo led her down the stairs and into the crowd. It was only afterwards that she castigated herself. No doubt he’d done that on purpose, to ensure she looked suitably delighted to be on his arm.The new Mrs Holt.

After cocktails and canapés there was a lavish banquet, finished off by an auction. It included everything and anything, from the ownership of an unknown English football team to a vintage Aston Martin, last seen on screen in a world-famous spy movie.

As the auction was drawing to a raucous close Primo stood up, following others who were also starting to move to the dance floor. Faye looked up at him and felt dizzy, even though she was sitting down. He held out his hand in silent invitation.

Damn the man.

She put her hand in his. ‘I’d love to.’

In the next room a band were playing smooth tunes, and Primo pulled her into his arms. He looked down at her. ‘I believe this is officially our first dance.’

‘And what better arena for it to play out? In front of the very people you want to impress with your newfound settled status.’

Primo made atsking sound. ‘I want more out of this marriage than just to convince people I’m settling down.’

Faye’s conscience pricked. She avoided Primo’s eye, helped by the fact that he’d spun her away from him with a little flourish and then pulled her back into his arms.

She was suddenly breathless. She could feel the way his body was responding to hers. He held her close. No escape. He was looking at her as if she was the only woman in the room. It was heady. Intoxicating.

Then he asked, ‘Whydidyou leave the other morning? And don’t fob me off with your itinerary.’

Faye couldn’t hide. To avoid admitting how intense it had been, she said, ‘Because I’m used to my own space.’

Primo frowned. ‘You’ve been married. I can’t imagine you crept out of your first husband’s bed.’

Faye had a flashback to waking up in bed alone after she’d had the operation after her miscarriage. Her husband hadn’t shared breakfast with her ever again. Or her bed. Their moments of marital bliss had been laughably brief.

She forced a smile, but it was brittle. ‘It was so long ago I hardly care to remember.’

‘And it’s none of my business,’ Primo conceded, surprising Faye. Then he said, ‘What matters is the present moment, and the fact thatweare married now.’

Faye felt absurdly grateful for how easily Primo was willing to let that go. And for the maturity he’d exhibited. ‘Thank you.’

He swung her around to avoid colliding with another couple, and that only pressed Faye closer to his body, making her aware of the whipcord strength of every hard muscle. If she closed her eyes for a second she was transported back to Venice, and how it had felt when his body had joined hers for the first time.

Suddenly she was filled with desire—a desire to escape the hundreds of eyes watching their every move and the whispers.

Primo stopped moving and looked down at her. ‘Had enough?’

This time Faye was grateful for the uncanny way he seemed to be able to read her mind.

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

Primo took her hand and led her off the dance floor. They made their way to the foyer, where Faye collected her coat—a light three-quarter-length jacket matching the dress.

She was surprised that it was so late. Usually she found these events beyond tedious. But Primo hadn’t been a clingy date, nor had he expected her to cling to him. He’d been happy to conduct his own conversations. A man who was confident in himself... A rarity in her experience.

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