Sleeping With The Enemy. Annie West

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      “I might have to accept your offer, since there is no other way to get out of the dress.”

      Dear God, he wanted her right now. He wanted to take her hand and lead her to the plane’s bedroom and have his wicked way with her.

      But they’d been airborne for an hour already and he knew they weren’t far from landing. Besides, he wanted far more than a quick tumble from her. He wanted to explore her thoroughly. He wanted to strip her slowly and build her excitement until she begged him to possess her. And that would take time. Time he did not have right now.

      There was no choice but to control this need raging inside him like a hurricane.

      “I will take you up on that, Tina, but not until we are safely home again.”

      She dipped her head, but not before he thought she looked somewhat disappointed. The knowledge she wanted him, too, sent a slice of raw lust burrowing deep into his gut. When he’d taken her to bed in Venice, he’d thought she would be like other women. And she had been, until the moment when he’d realized he couldn’t quite forget the sexy virgin siren he’d bedded that night.

      What was it about her? He’d been asking himself that since the morning after their encounter in Venice.

      If he’d known who she was, he wouldn’t have touched her, regardless that doing so would anger Renzo. He might be bad, but he wasn’t that bad. Or, he was that bad, but he wouldn’t have been able to do it when he remembered her as a shy teenager, hiding behind her hair and gazing at him with puppy dog eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking.

      She’d been sweet, shy and so very innocent. Her adoration had amused him at the time, though he’d been careful not to let her know that he knew how she felt.

      She didn’t gaze at him that way any longer, and he found he missed it in a perverse sort of way. She’d worshipped him once, and now she did not. Now she looked cool and almost indifferent at times. He was certain, however, that she was not.

      “What are you reading so intensely?” he asked, determined to change the subject in an effort to get himself under control.

      She looked down at the eReader as if she’d forgotten it existed. What she said next was not even close to what he’d expected her to say. “Oh, just a journal article on rational option pricing and derivative investment instruments.”

      Nico blinked as he dredged up memories of university. “You’re reading about financial engineering?”

      He should have realized there was more inside that lovely head than he’d assumed, considering the way she’d gone after the financial arrangements in the prenup. She’d been a tiger. He’d thought she was just very savvy, but now he realized it was something entirely different.

      It turned him on in ways he hadn’t imagined. And it made him wonder about those investments she’d mentioned. Not because he thought she’d made a fortune, but because he was suddenly curious.

      She looked fierce. “And why is that so hard to believe? Not that you’ve ever asked, but I have a degree in finance. With honors, I might add.”

      No, he hadn’t asked. Why hadn’t he asked? Because he’d thought her expertise was in shopping and looking pretty, that’s why. It was the sort of thing he was accustomed to from the women in his life. Not that he didn’t have seriously smart women working for him, but he’d never actually dated any of them.

      “That’s impressive,” he told her sincerely. “I’m surprised you aren’t working for your brother with that kind of résumé.”

      She looked angry. “Yes, well, Renzo has certain opinions about what I should be doing. And working for him was not it.”

      “Then he is a fool.”

      Her eyes were suddenly sharp. “Really? Does that mean you’d consider allowing your wife to work in the finance department of Gavretti Manufacturing?”

      He flicked an imaginary speck of lint from his tuxedo. “Perhaps. One day.” He had no intention of letting her anywhere near his financial department. She was a D’Angeli, and he didn’t kid himself that her loyalties had suddenly switched when she’d said her vows.

      Still, if he’d been Renzo, he would have used her expertise. He could say that honestly. He always used the best tool for the job.

      “I suppose I can’t ask for a better answer,” she said. Then she laughed, the sound so light and beautiful that it pierced him in unexpected ways. “I bet you thought I’d tell you I was reading a romance novel, or perhaps a tome that everyone claims to have read but really haven’t.”

      He couldn’t help but smile in return. She was infectious when she laughed. “Such as?”

      “Oh, Ulysses maybe. Or Moby-Dick. Something giant and meaty and excruciating in the extreme.”

      Nico put a hand over his heart in mock horror. “I happen to like Ulysses.”

      The corners of her mouth trembled as she worked to keep a straight face. “Then I am sorry for disparaging it. I’m sure it’s a fine piece of literature.”

      “You aren’t sorry,” he said, enjoying the way her face lit up with mischief.

      She gave up the pretense and laughed again. “No, not really.”

      “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ve never actually read Ulysses. I was just teasing you.”

      She shook her head. “That’s very bad of you.”

      He took her hand in his, his thumb ghosting over her palm. He could feel the tremor that ran through her body. An answering thrill cascaded within him. Soon, he would take her. He had to.

      “I like being bad,” he murmured as he nibbled her pretty fingers. “I excel at it, in fact.”

      Her only answer was another shiver.

       Chapter Nine

      TINA was on edge in a way she hadn’t been since the night she’d met Nico in Venice. That night, when she’d gotten into the gondola with the enigmatic stranger, she’d known they would end up in bed together even if she hadn’t fully admitted it to herself.

      Tonight, she was admitting it. And she wanted it so desperately her skin tingled with anticipation. It didn’t matter that she’d been furious and hurt earlier. Nothing mattered except that she’d stood in that tiny chapel and promised to love, honor and cherish until death do us part, while her heart thrummed and her palms sweated and the man standing beside her gazed at her with piercing silver eyes.

      They were in this together now, officially, and tonight was their wedding night. She couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. She was a married woman, the marchesa di Casari, and her family had no idea. Guilt slid deep into her bones. Renzo would hit the roof when he found out. Thank God that wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks at least—more if she was lucky. Still, she had time to figure out how to tell everyone what she’d done.

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