Page 46 of The Housekeeper and the Brooding Billionaire

Because, despite his warning earlier, she hoped for more than sex from him? That had been a problem when he was younger and not experienced enough to spell out his limits to potential lovers.

Was Charlotte hoping to tie him into a relationship?

Or perhaps use their boss-housekeeper situation and twist what had happened into something ugly, hoping for a financial settlement?

Alessio had lived in the world, and a world driven by money, long enough to know anything was possible. He’d had more than his share of avaricious women target him for what they thought they could get. Even after Antonia’s death, they’d tried to push their way into his life, or at least his bed. He felt sick at the idea Charlotte might be like that.

‘I could ask the same, Alessio. Why me?’

Her voice grazed his skin, a reminder that, wary as he was, she still had the capacity to undermine his willpower with the siren call of sex.

The best sex of his life.

The thought startled him. And made him yet more determined to scotch any unwanted expectations on her part.

Alessio shrugged one shoulder and raised a deliberately provocative eyebrow. ‘Presumably you know my reputation. I enjoy sex. How could I resist?’

Charlotte didn’t even blink. Yet he felt her shrink in his hold. Twin streaks of colour slashed her cheekbones as her expression clouded.

‘You make me sound like a sweet treat that caught your eye in a shop window,’ she snapped.

Her chin angled up in that familiar way she had when he’d been particularly difficult. But this time he hadn’t just been difficult, but insulting. He’d hurt her.

Because he’d stepped into the unknown and it scared him!

Remorse was bitter on his tongue. Whatever Charlotte’s motivation, she deserved better.

‘You’re right. I apologise. That made it sound like what we shared, thatyou, were a commodity. That’s anything but true. Tonight was special.’

Alessio halted, trying to find a line between the truth and maintaining his pride. In the end he gave up and admitted, ‘I told you in the ballroom. I’ve wanted you for so long. Ever since you came here.’ He forced himself to go on, making the truth his penance for hurting her. ‘My reputation as a lover was in the past, Charlotte. You’re the first woman I’ve been with in years.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THEFIRSTWOMANin years. In years!

Charlotte stared across the water at the racing boats, adorned with fluttering flags and elaborate decorations, but didn’t really take them in, instead remembering Alessio’s expression as he said she’d been his first lover in years.

Since his wife?

Charlotte assumed so but hadn’t liked to ask.

For despite his gentle smile, as if making up for his harsh words immediately before, there’d been a starkness in the depths of those green eyes, a seemingly infinite pain that she couldn’t probe.

Not because she didn’t want to—her curiosity about Alessio was deeper than the rules of politeness. But because she didn’t have the heart to dredge up more hurt.

She’d seen him stiffen and turn into the stony-faced feudal lord more than once last night when some gushing female offered saccharine sympathy for his wife’s death. The sympathy might have been real, but so had been the avaricious curiosity and blatant sexual interest.

Charlotte had felt jealous and protective.

Her lips twisted. Alessio didn’t need her to fight his battles. Most of the night he’d used charm like a weapon, leaving eager women in his wake while steering clear of cosy chats. It was only as the evening wore on that the severe autocrat had shown through the surface gloss when people got too close.

Charlotte shouldn’t have had time to notice, but no matter how she’d tried to concentrate on her hostess duties, she’d found herself fixated on Alessio.

A grunt of harsh laughter escaped. What was new?

She’d been fixated on him since the day he’d stood, blocking her way up the beach with folded arms and something curiously like dismay in that stern, beautiful face. And after what they’d shared last night, not just the amazing sex, but the unexpectedly tender way he’d held her close until she fell exhausted into sleep, that fixation was only stronger.

‘What’s the matter? You’re not enjoying the race?’

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