The Italian's Virgin Acquisition Page 7

  ‘Then ask those women to Italy.’

  ‘I don’t want to ask those women to Italy!’ he all but bellowed.

  ‘Then you’ll have to put up with me.’ She whirled around to stalk out of the room but his hands descended on her shoulders.

  ‘Okay, what’s wrong?’

  Poppy stared up at him. The man had to ask!

  ‘I don’t want your designer clothes,’ she said, her temper and insecurities sparking in equal measure. ‘And as for the holiday? I have to spend time impressing people I’ve never met and pretending to be in love with a man I hardly know. I don’t know any woman who would want to do that.’

  ‘Unfortunately I know plenty.’

  ‘Like I said—invite them.’

  ‘You know I can’t.’

  ‘So says the man who makes trillion-dollar deals every day.’

  He had the grace to look contrite. ‘You don’t like me very much, do you?’ His voice was low and packed with an emotion she couldn’t identify.

  Poppy’s chin came up. ‘It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s more that you’re not my type.’

  He looked startled for a moment. ‘You’re into women?’

  Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘It’s a testament to your enormous ego that you would think the only reason I wouldn’t find you attractive is because I’m gay. But I’m not. The truth is, you’re entitled, and you have no sense of humour.’

  A muscle ticked in his jaw again. ‘I have a sense of humour. It might not extend to wearing Mickey Mouse watches, but I have one.’

  Poppy gaped at him, affronted. ‘What’s wrong with my watch?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he said levelly. ‘I just wouldn’t date a woman who wore one.’

  Poppy’s lips pursed. ‘Well, you do this weekend, because I never take it off.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘It’s special to you?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Did Simon give it to you?’

  ‘Yes. As a matter of fact, he did. Do you have a problem with that?’

  ‘Take it from me,’ he said with lethal softness. ‘You’re selling yourself too cheap.’

  Poppy made a choking sound in the back of her throat. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’

  ‘Dio!’ He stalked away from her and then back, frustration vibrating through his big body. ‘You know, you would try the patience of a saint.’

  ‘I would!’

  He towered over her, all six-foot-four of outraged male, and for one heart-stopping moment Poppy thought he was going to pull her into his arms and kiss her. And she wanted him to kiss her. So desperately it made her knees tremble.

  ‘I did not mean to insult you,’ he said stiffly.

  Poppy’s chin jerked up. ‘Well, you did. But unfortunately for you, your grandfather thought you’d date someone who would wear this watch, so you’ll just have to deal with it.’

  His mouth flattened into a grim line. ‘I doubt my grandfather made it past your dazzling smile to even notice the watch,’ he growled. ‘Wear the clothes, don’t wear the clothes; I don’t care. Just make this look real.’

  He stared at her as if he had a lot more to say on the subject but thought better of it, stalking out of the room and leaving a vacuum of deflated air in his wake.

  Poppy sank down onto the edge of the bed. She was stunned by the argument they had just had. She never argued. Never. Easygoing by nature, she was the kind of person who got along with everyone, both men and women. So he had bought her clothes for the weekend, so what? It wasn’t as if she wanted him to like her for herself. She didn’t care what he thought of her. It was unlikely that she’d ever get to work for SJC in the future anyway so...what was her problem?

  Sexual frustration, a small voice said. Sexual frustration for a man who was using her, just like every other person she had ever got close to other than Maryann.

  She sighed. She was going to have to get over the fact that she disliked that he was using her too and figure out how to play the game. Because she had agreed to this deal and, if he wanted some besotted girlfriend to convince his grandparents that he was a reformed rake, then that was exactly what he was damned well going to get!

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘POPPY, THIS IS my grandmother, Evelina. Nonna, this is Poppy Connolly.’

  ‘Buongiorno, Poppy, come stai? It is lovely to finally meet you. Giuseppe spoke so highly of you.’

  Poppy beamed at the beautifully coiffed Italian woman and wound her arm through Sebastiano’s, leaning against his side to give the impression of the picture-perfect girlfriend. ‘It’s nice to meet you too. You have a beautiful home.’ Which was an understatement. The pale pink mansion that was built on a rugged bluff in the heart of the Amalfi coast, and surrounded by palatial gardens, was a place mere mortals only got to see in Vogue Living. Or Bond films. And she should know. Simon had made her sit through enough of those of late.

  ‘Thank you. Now, please, you must come inside. It is a sunny day but winter still has us in its grip.’

  As they made their way up the stone steps to the portico entrance, Poppy gazed up at Sebastiano adoringly. ‘Thank you for bringing me, darling.’

  His eyes glittered down into hers. ‘My pleasure, pumpkin,’ he murmured, his eyes conveying a warning that he was unhappy, though why that should be was beyond her. This whole charade made her nervous, and he was the one who had told her to make it look real between them.

  ‘Come through to the living room,’ Evelina bade them. ‘I’ve organised refreshments.’

  Stepping into a lavish room straight out of a bygone century, Poppy headed straight for the large picture windows that showcased the deep-blue sea and rugged coastline beyond. Magnificent candy-coloured houses perched along the hillside while sleek-hulled yachts bobbed in the harbour. ‘Oh, wow,’ she murmured. ‘I’d heard the Italian Riviera was beautiful but this is something else.’

  ‘Is this your first time in Italy, Poppy?’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled at Evelina. ‘It’s my first time out of England.’ She moved to stand beside Sebastiano and didn’t have to look at him to know he was on edge. ‘I was so surprised when Sebastiano invited me, wasn’t I, honey?’

  She smiled up at him, trying to coax an answering smile from him, but when it came it was more of a snarl. ‘You certainly were.’

  ‘Then you must make sure you show Poppy some of our wonderful country, Sebastiano. Do you take cream in your coffee, Poppy?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She took the dainty cup Evelina offered and sipped at the rich brew. ‘Oh, this is heavenly.’ She breathed, closing her eyes to better savour the taste. ‘I’d heard that Italy does the best coffee.’

  ‘Where is Nonno?’ Sebastiano barked impatiently, his eyes blazing down at her as if she was somehow responsible for his grandfather’s absence.

  ‘He is still at the office,’ his grandmother murmured. ‘He was delayed but said to tell you he would be back in time for dinner.’

  Catching Sebastiano’s irritated glance at his watch, Poppy hunted around for a distraction and found it in the form of a cluster of framed photos on the far wall. So far she was doing all the work in making their relationship look authentic and she was fast running out of ideas on how to keep it up. ‘Are these family photos?’ she asked, feeling Sebastiano stiffen beside her.

  ‘Si,’ Evelina confirmed softly. ‘This is our beautiful family.’

  Intrigued, Poppy strolled over to the wall. Her eyes skimmed over the twenty or so frames, stopping on one of a boy holding on to the stern of a yacht. ‘Is this you as a boy?’ she asked Sebastiano, smiling at the carefree look on his face as the breeze caught his dark hair, the potential of his wide shoulders already evident even though he must have been about ten in the shot.

  Sebastiano stopped beside her. ‘Yes,’ he said curtly.

  Poppy glanced at him curiously, unsure as to why he wouldn’t be happy that she was looking at the photos. She glanced at the other frames that showed a very normal, happy f
amily. For some reason she had expected that Sebastiano’s family would be snobbish and distant but, seeing this wall of coveted memories, she could already tell that they were the type of family she admired the most. Close. Supportive. Loving. It made her heart ache for something she had always wanted but had never been able to find.

  ‘And this?’ She pointed to a photo of a young girl in a ballet costume.

  ‘My cousin.’ He leant close and she instinctively stilled. ‘What are you doing?’ he murmured gruffly, his hand firm on her shoulder. To his grandmother it might look like a loving gesture, but there was so much tension radiating off him Poppy knew it was the exact opposite.

  ‘I’m looking at photos,’ she murmured, risking a glance into his stormy gaze. ‘Just as you did at my place. Why are you so tense all of a sudden?’

  ‘I’m not tense.’

  Before she could check herself, she ran a hand over one corded shoulder and felt the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips. Fire flitted along her nerve endings and she did her best to ignore it. ‘You certainly feel tense. You just jumped six foot in the air.’

  ‘Listen, I—’

  ‘Sebastiano, come stai tesoro mio?’

  Poppy turned to see a willowy blonde woman heading towards them, a wide smile on her face.

  Embracing Sebastiano, she gave him a traditional kiss on each cheek. ‘E così bello vederti.’

  ‘It’s good to see you too,’ Sebastiano murmured.

  Poppy swallowed heavily, a sick feeling invading her stomach. Was she about to meet one of Sebastiano’s ex-girlfriends?

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be speaking in Italian.’ The woman smiled at her warmly, her brown eyes alight with interest. ‘I’m Nicolette, Sebastiano’s cousin—and you must be Poppy. Welcome. You can call me Nicole, like everyone else does.’

  His cousin! Poppy was disconcerted to find that she didn’t have to pretend her sense of relief. She smiled in greeting and had no choice but to accept a warm kiss on each cheek as well. Unused to being welcomed into a family so wholeheartedly, she felt something inside her clench in reaction. She had always been openly affectionate with Simon, replacing the mother he’d never known from an early age, but she wasn’t so used to being embraced herself.

  As if sensing her unease, Sebastiano ran his hand down her arm, as if he were gentling a startled animal. The gesture of comfort was so unusual, she felt instantly overwhelmed.

  ‘Please don’t tell me Nonna invited the whole family over tonight?’ he drawled to his cousin.

  Nicolette laughed. ‘We invited ourselves.’ Then she turned to Poppy. ‘Giulietta and I are dying to hear all about how you landed our elusive cousin. We think it’s fantastic, by the way.’

  ‘Oh, well, thank you. I think.’ Now that she’d had a moment to take stock, Poppy couldn’t help liking this woman and she gave Sebastiano an amused look. ‘It wasn’t easy. What with all the supermodels he always has hanging off him.’

  Nicolette laughed and Sebastiano scowled. ‘Okay, I can already see you two are going to be trouble together. I think I’ll take Poppy upstairs to rest before dinner.’

  ‘Rest?’ Nicolette gave him an impish wink. ‘Is that what they call it nowadays, cousin?’

  ‘Don’t embarrass Sebastiano and his guest, Nicole,’ Evelina scolded, her eyes shining with happiness. ‘I don’t want to scare him away when he has not been home in so long.’

  Poppy felt Sebastiano tense again and wondered what had put that distant look in his eyes. Then he put his hand in the small of her back and she couldn’t think at all.

  ‘No fun, Nonna,’ Nicole complained. ‘We’ve been waiting for Sebastiano to fall in love for a long time. At least let me enjoy the moment.’

  ‘Just wait till it’s your turn, cousin,’ Sebastiano drawled, ushering Poppy ahead of him.

  ‘Pah, it’s never going to happen!’ Nicole lamented. ‘I’m going to die an old virgin.’

  ‘Nicolette!’

  ‘Sorry, Nonna.’ Nicole giggled, clearly not sorry at all. ‘Okay, I’ll be quiet now. You two run along and rest.’

  Poppy threw Nicole a bemused smile. She’d never had a girlfriend growing up but, if she had, she would have wanted one as bubbly and lively as Nicolette.

  Trailing Sebastiano up the moulded stone staircase, she was out of breath by the time he ushered her through a solid wooden door.

  ‘Dio,’ he muttered. ‘What made me ever think this weekend was going to be easy?’

  Poppy blinked up at him. ‘Those long billionaire breakfasts?’

  ‘I never said billionaire breakfasts,’ he growled, dragging a hand through his hair. ‘And what was with all the touching downstairs?’

  ‘You told me to make it look real between us so I was playing my part.’ Poppy glanced around the beautifully appointed sitting room and across to another set of French doors that overlooked the sea. ‘I’m a pretty affectionate person so...if this was a real relationship, I’d probably touch you.’ A lot, she silently added.

  ‘Well, I’m not overly affectionate, so you can cut that out right now.’ His eyes narrowed as they swept over her. ‘Unless of course you’re looking to make this real.’

  Poppy frowned, hearing the edge in his voice. ‘Of course I’m not looking to make this real. Why would you even think that?’

  ‘Never mind, just...follow my lead in this.’

  Poppy shrugged. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’ She walked over to the French windows. ‘Your home is like something out of a fairy tale,’ she murmured, taking in the quaint coloured houses nestled around the harbour town. ‘You’re so lucky to live here.’

  ‘I don’t live here any more.’ He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the edge of a white sofa. ‘When I visit Italy, I stay in Rome.’

  Poppy felt her curiosity pique at his offhand comment. ‘So where do you call home?’

  ‘I have houses in London and Boston. I spend my time where I’m needed the most.’

  ‘Don’t you get sick of packing a suitcase?’ she asked, trying not to ogle his body in his fitted sweater. ‘When you go from home to home.’

  ‘I don’t pack a suitcase. I have a wardrobe in each house.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Could the gap between their two worlds be any wider? ‘Me too.’

  A reluctant grin flashed across his face. ‘I apologise for my cousin ambushing you before. I wasn’t expecting to see my extended family until tomorrow night.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She shrugged. ‘At first I thought she was an old girlfriend, but of course, what would an old girlfriend be doing here? But she was so nice it was hard not to like her. Is she always so bubbly?’

  ‘Will you accuse me of having no sense of humour if I say “unfortunately”?’

  Poppy laughed. ‘Probably. But you love her anyway, right?’ she asked softly.

  ‘She’s family. Of course I love her.’

  A dark cloud settled over Poppy just as the wintry sun ducked behind a grey cloud, casting the lovely vista in shadows. She instinctively wrapped her arms around her torso. There was no ‘of course’ about it; being family did not guarantee anybody actual love.

  Realising that Sebastiano was watching her with those keen, intelligent eyes, she moved away from the window. ‘Nicole said that there would be others at dinner tonight. How many more of you are there?’

  ‘Nicole’s older sister, Giulietta, and her partner, Giancarlo. As well as my uncle Andrea and my aunt Elena. My uncle will most likely drink too much wine before the first course is served and fall asleep on the sofa, and my aunt will reprimand him to no end.’

  ‘It sounds lovely.’ She found herself envious of his closeness with his family. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’

  ‘Not really. We are a very small lot by Italian standards, which is one of the reasons I suspect my grandfather wants me to hurry up and settle down.’

  ‘And holding the family business over your head to get you to do it.’

  ‘Something like t
hat.’

  ‘It sounds a bit Machiavellian,’ she commented.

  ‘My grandfather doesn’t mean it to be. He just has a bee in his bonnet over my single status.’

  ‘Because you’re the last Castiglione male.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief, because he seemed really nice when I met him.’ She frowned. ‘But what about one of your other relatives? Can’t they run the company?’

  ‘Giulietta is in fashion, Giancarlo is a flourishing wine maker and Nicolette is in engineering. Since my uncle is an artist and my aunt a homemaker, they were never contenders.’

  ‘So that leaves only you.’

  ‘Yes.’ His tone was curt. ‘My father would have taken over but... Anyway, my grandfather means well. He just thinks I work too hard.’

  ‘Everyone thinks you work too hard,’ Poppy said lightly. ‘It’s admirable on one hand and a bit scary on the other. Even your social engagements are usually for work.’

  ‘I run six miles a day. Sometimes more.’

  She made a face. ‘Running? Seems like more work to me. Not that I don’t admire the results.’

  Realising what she had just revealed, she blushed, and his eyes gleamed with interest. ‘Did you just tell me you found me attractive, Poppy?’

  ‘No.’

  His smile told her he knew she was lying. ‘That’s a relief because I’m not your type, remember?’

  ‘Well, you’re not if we’re talking boyfriend material, but as a boss you’re pretty sensational.’

  ‘So what is boyfriend material for you?’

  ‘Um, I don’t know.’ She smoothed her hair back behind her ears. ‘Someone kind and considerate. Someone with a sense of humour and who is interested in making a difference in the world.’ Someone who would love her for herself and understand that she would always put her brother’s needs first. ‘You know, the usual suspects.’

  ‘You didn’t mention money.’

  ‘I’d rather find someone who was trustworthy than someone with a large bank account. And anyway, I intend to make my own money so I don’t have to rely on someone else for the rest of my life.’