Page 6 of Redemption of the Untamed Italian

Cesare had to bite back a smile when he saw how crestfallen the British man was. The only reason he didn’t give vent to his amusement was that Jemima was watching him. He could feel her gaze on his face, and was well aware that she wouldn’t take kindly to him ridiculing Laurence’s expectations. Besides, despite a lifelong hatred for men like Laurence—spoiled, entitled British brats—there was something in Laurence that Cesare could almost have grudgingly come to like.

‘You don’t expect me to sign away five hundred million pounds on the spot, do you?’

‘I just think it’s a really rare opportunity,’ Laurence muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. ‘And you’re getting first option.’

Cesare leaned forward. ‘Let’s not play with one another. I’m getting the only option.’

Laurence’s face glowed pink. ‘No, I happen to have a couple of very cashed-up investors on the hook.’

Now Jemima’s head swivelled towards Laurence and for the first time in at least thirty minutes she slipped up. Cesare saw the consternation that crossed her features and he understood it. Underneath the table, Cesare lightly ran his fingers over her exposed knee, so now her face jerked back to his, her lips parted in that sensual way she had. His cock strained against his trousers. Anticipation drummed against the fabric of his soul.

‘Sure you do.’ Cesare’s grin was tight. ‘Then let me know what they bid and, if I decide I’m still interested, I’ll better it.’

Backed into a corner, Laurence grimaced. ‘You’re my first choice. I know your history. Plus, an investment by you brings a hell of a lot of prestige. Everything you touch turns to gold.’

Cesare heard his words and wondered if he’d ever tire of this. Laurence was exactly the kind of preppy school boy who’d been intent on making Cesare’s life hell for a time, and now he was begging for his kindness, his money, his grace. His chest felt three sizes bigger. He regarded the other man for several seconds, enjoying this experience way more than he should, and then pushed his chair back.

‘I’ll be in touch.’

Laurence stood a few seconds later. ‘You will?’

Cesare dipped his head. ‘Yes.’

‘Okay.’ Laurence was ambivalent. He turned to Jemima, who was still sitting down, lost in thought. Doubt briefly dimmed Cesare’s sense of anticipation because a huge part of his present mood came down to the certainty he would soon be pleasuring this very beautiful woman from head to toe—and everywhere in between.

‘Jemima?’ he murmured, and she raised her eyes to his in consternation.

Laurence frowned. ‘Jem?’

‘I’ve offered your cousin a lift home,’ Cesare inserted smoothly.

‘Oh, but you don’t have to do that.’ Laurence frowned.

‘It’s been agreed.’ Cesare’s tone held warning, a warning any of his rivals would know to listen to. And Laurence heeded it now, choosing instead to address Jemima.

‘Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me to drop you off...’

Cesare was surprised to realise he was holding his breath, awaiting her reply. After what felt like several minutes, but was actually just a few seconds, she stood, placing her still half-full champagne flute on the table.

‘No, really, it’s fine.’ She eyed Cesare, something strange in her expression—trepidation or uncertainty, something he couldn’t quite make sense of. But then she smiled and her whole face lit up, as though an army of firebugs had filled her blood. She glowed from the inside out, and his gut kicked with an unmistakable rush of sensual heat. ‘I’m ready to go.’

* * *

In the restaurant, he’d been an impressive specimen, but here in the confines of his luxury car Cesare Durante was like a whole other species. This was madness but she couldn’t summon even an inch of hesitation.

It was one of the pitfalls of her job that she was expected to attend events and parties, and it seemed to go hand in hand with her attendance that she was there to hook up. But she never had. Somehow, seeing such overt sexuality on display had inured her to its effects. Curi

osity had been subverted by something approaching prudishness and then, as the years had gone by, embarrassment. Embarrassment about her virginity and what people would say if they knew the truth. And here she was, in the car with a man she found unbearably sexy, and some time tonight she’d lose her innocence... She couldn’t wait.

A hint of anxiety creased through her for a moment when she thought of Laurence. Was there any chance being with Cesare could negatively impact the likelihood of Cesare investing in Laurence’s fund? Surely not? He’d said as much, hadn’t he? Business was business, distinct from pleasure.

She shifted her gaze sideways, eyeing him thoughtfully. He was immaculately dressed. His suit, a charcoal grey, contrasted perfectly with his crisp white shirt, and his black shoes were polished to gleaming. His hair was neat, his nails too. His fingers were long and capable-looking, with hair-roughened knuckles.

They didn’t speak in the car. It was as though neither of them could find words, or perhaps both were equally afraid that talking would cut through the spell that had weaved some kind of magic around them, binding them together in a shared moment of madness.

London zipped past, all bright lights and ancient buildings, and then the car was running alongside Hyde Park, bringing them into Knightsbridge. It pulled off the road at a large and gracious townhouse. Despite the age of the building, modern modifications had taken place and an underground garage had been installed.

The car slid into it effortlessly, a gate closing behind them. Only then did Cesare turn to her, speculation in his face, as though waiting for her to change her mind.

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