Claimed by the Italian: Virgin: Wedded at the Italian's Convenience / Count Giovanni's Virgin / The Italian's Unwilling Wife. Kathryn Ross

I am at the very least your friend and not your enemy.’

      Lily’s face flamed. Act as if they were lovers? The very thought made her heart beat so fast she was sure it would leap out of her chest. He could take that preposterous suggestion and bury it deep in the nearest dustbin!

      Thankfully, she was spared the need to give an immediate answer by the arrival of the coffee tray and Paolo’s final dismissal of the waiter.

      Stealing a look at him from beneath tangled lashes, she felt her tummy flip alarmingly. It was so unfair! Just look at him—every inch the powerful alpha male, sophisticated, breathtakingly wealthy and staggeringly good to look at. Sexy. In spades. She could have coped much better if he’d been fat and bald with the sex appeal of a frog!

      Clamorous warning bells had rung at the prospect of even pretending to be his lover. For him it would be tongue-in-cheek play-acting, but for her it would be too dangerous to contemplate.

      Even before the waiter had closed the door behind him, she blurted, ‘This scam you’ve dreamed up can’t work! For a start, friends don’t trample on each other, treat each other as if their opinions are worthless. So it will be really difficult to pretend you’re my friend!’

      He’d taken a chair on the opposite side of the low coffee table. He poured dark, hot coffee into small gold-rimmed cups, his movements deft and economical, and conceded, ‘I see your point. However, now matters are arranged, everything smoothly in place, it will be different—I promise.’

      In all areas of his life, business and personal, he made decisions and acted on them, allowing nothing to get in his way. Using persuasion to counter an objecting voice was unusual for him, but with so much at stake he had to grit his teeth, keep his temper, and try.

      He smiled. The slow, sexy smile that dazzled her eyes and set her pulses racing.

      ‘If you have an opinion, and it is valid, it will be listened to.’

      Big of him! ‘Does there always have to be a caveat?’ She accepted the cup he offered. Whatever opinion she offered he was bound to say it wasn’t valid!

      ‘Scusi!’ He flashed her a disarming grin and relaxed back in his chair. When she wasn’t regarding him as the devil incarnate she could be amusing company. Come to think of it, he might enjoy moulding this stubborn, unremarkable scrap of female opposition to his will. Brilliant eyes assessed her thoroughly. Maybe she wasn’t quite as unremarkable as he’d thought. ‘The new hairstyle suits you perfectly. Pretty.’

      He caught the surprise in those big grey eyes before she looked quickly away, her pale skin pinkening, and to his own amazement he found he felt ashamed of himself. He hadn’t been treating her like a human being with feelings that could be hurt—or completely squashed, as she’d accused.

      Her hands—delicate, fine-boned, small hands, he noted for the first time—were unsteady as she replaced her cup on its saucer. And, realising it was time to quit while he was ahead, he said gently, ‘Goodnight, Lily. It’s late and we have an early start. Sleep well.’

      He watched with veiled satisfaction as she scrambled to her feet and exited in swamping folds of out-of-control bathrobe.

      Tread softly, a little gentle flattery, and the next two weeks would be sailed through with no problems at all.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      AS SHE boarded the Venini private jet, with Paolo’s hand lightly insistent on the small of her back—a reminder, as if she needed one, that it was now far too late to back out—Lily felt seriously light-headed. Partly nerves at the prospect of what lay ahead of her—her role in a distasteful deception—and partly, she had to be honest, because Paolo was being nice to her.

      She’d gone to bed with his compliment about her new hairstyle throbbing in her ears and heating her skin, totally amazed that he had actually noticed something positive about her appearance.

      She could have got over that, of course she could, but then the way his eyes had registered stunned approval when she’d presented herself early this morning, wearing the wickedly expensive cream-coloured linen suit and heeled sandals that she’d selected to travel in from the clothes that had been picked out for her, had really knocked her for six.

      Especially when he’d moved right up to her and tilted her chin, producing a clean white handkerchief and gently wiping away the scarlet lipstick she’d taken such pains to apply.

      At the touch of his cool, lean fingers, the gentle movement of the fabric against her lips, every sane thought had flown right out of her head.

      His eyes, veiled by thick dark lashes, had been intent on what he was doing, his beautiful mouth just slightly smiling, and every inch of her suddenly tense body had craved to move closer to the dominating male strength of his. She had nearly fainted with the urgent throbbing of every cell in her body when he’d run a finger softly over her parted lips and imparted, in a tone that was thicker and deeper than she had heard before, ‘You have a lovely mouth. Soft and incredibly lush. Pink and inviting. It’s a sin to cover it with screaming scarlet.’

      ‘Inviting.’ What did that mean? That he’d wanted to kiss her? Her heart had begun to pound and clatter; her breathing had grown ragged.

      She’d gulped.

      With a feeble effort, which he could have stayed with the tip of one finger, she had forced herself to twist away from the sheer temptation of him.

      Of course he hadn’t wanted to kiss her! As if! It was completely obvious what he’d been doing.

      She could pinpoint exactly when he had started to treat her like a living, breathing female. Right after she’d told him she couldn’t even begin to treat him as if he were a friend when all he did was trample on her.

      Paolo Venini was turning on the charm solely in the hope of making her more compliant—she could see straight through him!

      Even so, her tummy muscles clenched now as he leaned over and fastened her seat belt for her. She could see every pore of his olive-toned skin, the darkly shadowed jawline, the gleam of those brilliant eyes. She breathed in the mineral tang of the aftershave he used and felt giddy.

      He was so dangerous!

      But only if she allowed him to be, she reminded herself sternly. And she wouldn’t! She could be strong enough to ignore all that overcharged sexual charisma.

      As the plane taxied down the runway she consoled herself with that heartening thought, and when they were airborne, made haste to release her seat belt to stop him moving up close and doing it for her. When he half turned in his seat, angled towards her, she was as proud as if she had just won an Olympic medal when she managed casually, coolly, ‘You said you wanted to work. Please go ahead. I’m not about to disturb you and hurl objections at you at this late stage.’

      ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’

      Warmth in his voice—a smile, even. Nerves prickling, Lily kept staring straight ahead. Looking at him always caused her problems.

      Her profile was a delight. Long lashes veiling those big grey eyes, neat nose just slightly pinched around the nostrils, lush lips clamped together. A sign of her apprehension? Compassion stirred within him for the first time. She didn’t like the situation he’d dragooned her into, and it was up to him to try to smooth the way for her.

      There had been other firsts, too, he recognised in retrospect. Like noticing the flattering new hairstyle that framed her kittenish face. And then this morning he’d been actually stunned by a woman’s appearance—something that had never happened before. Without the workmanlike trousers and shapeless tops the skinny kid had been revealed as a delightful pocket-sized Venus. The expertly tailored suit she had chosen to wear to travel in skimming small but perfectly formed breasts, emphasising a tiny, tiny waist and showing off the very female curve of her hips.

      A glow of what could only be pride in his achievement coursed heatedly through his veins. He had