The Secret Heir Of Alazar. Кейт Хьюит

      The man gave Malik a wary sideways glance before attempting to edge him out, half standing in front of him, as he handed a beer to Gracie. ‘Got your drink.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, and took the bottle but not a sip.

      Malik shifted his weight so his shoulder brushed the other man’s. The man flinched. At six-three, Malik topped the guy by a good five inches and was heavier and more muscular by several stone. He’d never had to use his size except in training situations, but he discovered he had no compunction about using it now. And neither did Gracie; her eyes glinted again with humour and she smiled, a smile that felt as if it was aimed for him alone, secretive and promising.

      ‘Actually,’ she told the man sweating next to Malik, ‘I’m not thirsty any more.’ She handed him the beer bottle as her gaze swerved to fasten on Malik’s. ‘What I’d really like is some fresh air.’

      ‘As would I,’ Malik returned smoothly. He held out his hand to Gracie, and she slid hers across his palm, causing a tingling, tightening sensation in his midsection.

      ‘Let’s go, then,’ Gracie said, her eyes sparkling, and Malik led her out of the crowded room.

      * * *

      What was she doing?

      Gracie’s insides felt as if they were full of leaping, wriggling fish as she followed Malik outside the townhouse in Rome’s Trevi district. The June air was warm and balmy, the night full of sounds of city life: the distant buzz of a moped, the clink of glasses and laughter from a nearby café. They stood outside the townhouse, the air caressing their skin like velvet, the mood expectant and alive.

      Malik turned to face her, still holding her hand. In the night she could only just make out his eyes, the colour of granite, the proud slashes of his cheekbones. He was the most physically arresting man she’d ever seen. From the second he’d walked through the door, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. He was tall, commanding, his broad shoulders and muscled torso encased in a crisp white button-down shirt, his long, powerful legs in charcoal-grey trousers. Next to the motley assembly of college grads and twenty-somethings decked out in dirty jeans and T-shirts, he looked magnificent. Regal. And he’d singled her out for his attention.

      A thrill rippled through her. It wasn’t like her to be so forward, so bold. She was Gracie Jones from Addison Heights, Illinois, population three thousand. She’d never had a boyfriend, had gone through high school without even being kissed. She hadn’t minded; she’d always been waiting for something better, for life to really begin.

      Was this it?

      ‘Where do you want to go?’ Malik asked. His voice was a low growl that reverberated right through her.

      ‘I don’t know. I only arrived in Rome yesterday. I’m as newbie as they get.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Do you recommend anywhere?’

      His faint smile felt like a promise. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know the city, either. I only arrived yesterday, as well.’

      ‘We’re both of us newbies, then.’ Although newbie didn’t seem the right word to describe this man. Powerful, assured, experienced were more apt. He was miles above her in every regard.

      ‘How did you end up at that party?’ Malik asked.

      Gracie wrinkled her nose in a grimace. ‘I met that guy with the beers while I was sightseeing. He invited me along, and I thought I might as well go.’ She’d been both excited and nervous about diving into a strange and sudden social life, but this was better by far. ‘How about we go to a café?’ she suggested. ‘Get a proper drink?’

      His eyes glinted with humour. ‘I thought you weren’t thirsty.’

      ‘I’m not,’ she agreed blithely. ‘But we need to go somewhere, don’t we?’ His gaze held hers and she felt a new heat bloom in her belly at the undisguised desire she saw there. Suddenly she was imagining all sorts of places they could go. All sorts of things they could do...

      Which was ridiculous, considering the limits of her experience. And she barely knew this man. She wasn’t going to be that stupid, not on her first day in Europe. And yet Gracie couldn’t deny the attraction was there, amazingly on both sides, sparking between them. What would they do with it?

      ‘I suppose you’re right,’ Malik murmured. His fingers tightened on hers and he drew her down the pavement, towards a café near the Trevi Fountain, the Palazzo Poli providing a magnificent backdrop.

      The pavement café was buzzing with people, but after Malik had a murmured word with the maître d’, they were led to a private table tucked in the back with an unobstructed view of the fountain.

      Gracie sat down, revelling in the moment, from the fountain lit up from underneath the water, its surface shimmering with lights, to the magnificent palazzo to the even more magnificent man sitting across from her, his silvery-grey gaze fastened on her. She felt as if she had champagne bubbling through her veins, as if every nerve ending was tingling with anticipation.

      What was it about this man that made her so excited, so eager? Admittedly he was far more handsome than anyone else she’d so much as said hello to, but it was more than that. She felt an understanding with him, an affinity that went beyond a basic attraction to a sexy and desirable man. Or was she simply caught up in the romance of it all? Two days ago she’d been picking at an overcooked hamburger at a family barbecue in dreary Addison Heights and now she was sitting in a café in Rome, swept away by a gorgeous stranger who had, if she’d heard correctly, just ordered a bottle of champagne.

      ‘I love champagne,’ she said impulsively. She’d had it only a couple of times, but it had always felt like a decadent treat.

      ‘Good. It seemed appropriate to celebrate.’

      ‘What are we celebrating?’

      His gaze didn’t leave hers, the heat and intent in it undeniable. ‘Meeting.’

      ‘We’ve barely met,’ Gracie protested with a breathless laugh. Being the unswerving focus of his attention made her feel unsteady, overwhelmed, as if she could topple off the tightrope at any moment. She was nervous, but she was so alive. ‘All I know is your name.’

      ‘And where I live.’ Malik spread his hands. ‘But ask me anything you wish.’

      ‘Anything?’

      His eyes blazed into hers. ‘Anything.’

      Of course, she couldn’t think of anything then. Her mind was blank, spinning, her body responding to his, her insides coiled so tightly she felt as if she might snap or explode. She had no room to process anything else.

      ‘Um...’ She let out a self-conscious laugh as a blush swept over her. ‘How old are you?’

      ‘Twenty-two.’

      Twenty-two? He seemed so much older, much wiser and more sophisticated, than she was. He possessed an innate authority, almost an arrogance that both attracted and fascinated her. Had he been born with it, or had he cultivated it? And what on earth did he see in her?

      ‘How old are you?’ he asked, and she smiled in semi-apology.

      ‘Nineteen.’

      ‘And you said you are going to college?’

      ‘Yes, in September, to study special needs education.’ She’d be heading to Illinois State like everyone else she knew, but at least she was going to live a little first.

      Ink-black eyebrows snapped together as he frowned at her. ‘Special needs? I am not familiar with this term.’

      ‘Children with learning difficulties and disabilities,’ Gracie clarified. ‘My little brother, Jonathan, has Down’s syndrome and he benefitted so much from good teachers and support. I want to be able to provide the same for other children.’

      ‘That is admirable, to serve for your family’s sake,’