Bound To The Billionaire: Captive in His Castle / In Petrakis's Power / The Count's Prize

‘Have you ever been in love?’ she blurted out.

His eyes narrowed and his impatience was tangible, but after a few moments he shrugged and admitted tautly, ‘Once. A long time ago.’

Jess caught her breath. ‘What happened?’

‘Nothing happened. The relationship ended and I grew up. It was an educational experience,’ he said, with heavy irony that made Jess even more intrigued. It sounded as though he had been hurt, and she guessed he had not wanted his relationship with the woman he had loved to end. She longed to ask him more questions, but he did not give her the opportunity as he glanced at his watch and stood up.

‘I’m going to the hospital to talk to the doctor about Angelo’s headaches,’ he said abruptly. ‘Fico will take you back to the palazzo. The party is due to start at eight o’clock tonight.’ He made an effort to lighten his tone. ‘I’m sure you will want to spend some time getting ready. I appreciate that you have agreed to act as my hostess. This dinner party is an annual event attended by senior management staff from Cassa di Cassari’s worldwide operation. My mother and aunt usually attend, but this year they naturally wish to devote their time to Angelo.’

‘No problem,’ Jess said in a fiercely bright voice.

She was determined not to let him see how hurt she felt by his refusal to talk about himself, and equally determined to hide the fact that she was feeling nervous about her role as hostess at the party. Drago had assured her that most of the guests would be able to speak English, but what on earth did a decorator have in common with high-flying businessmen and company executives from the world famous Cassa di Cassari? she thought anxiously.

As she stood up she was overcome by an unpleasant sensation that the pavement beneath her feet was tilting, and she gripped the edge of the table.

‘What’s the matter?’ Drago asked, frowning as he watched the rosy pink flush on her cheeks fade so that she looked ashen.

‘I just feel a bit dizzy. It’ll pass in a minute.’

He looked unconvinced. ‘I hope you’re not coming down with something. You felt dizzy when you got up this morning.’

‘It’s nothing.’ Jess dismissed his concern, not revealing that she had waited until he had left for work before she had rushed to the bathroom to be sick the last two mornings. ‘Maybe I’ve had too much sun. It’s much hotter here in Venice than in London, and I’m not used to the heat.’ That had to be the explanation, she assured herself.

‘With your delicate colouring you need to wear a hat.’ Drago smoothed a tendril of her fiery gold hair back from her face and could not resist dropping a light kiss on her soft mouth. ‘I adore your freckles, cara. Especially the ones that look like gold-dust scattered over your breasts,’ he murmured, his voice dropping to a sexy whisper that sent a little shiver of response down Jess’s spine.

One look from his glittering black gaze was all it took to make her melt, she acknowledged wryly. As she picked up her bag the magazine she had bought at the hospital slid out and fell on the floor. Drago bent to pick it up, but instead of handing it to her he stared at the front cover and his expression darkened.

‘Why do you read such trash? Gossip magazines print utter rubbish,’ he said tersely, flicking through the pages with a look of arrogant disdain on his face that irked Jess.

‘I suppose you think I should only read highbrow novels by classical authors such as…’ She frantically searched her mind for an author she had heard of whom he would deem suitable. ‘Dickens.’ It was the only name she could come up with. ‘Actually, I bought that magazine because it mainly has photos of celebrities’ houses, and I’m interested in interior design. I can’t read it because I don’t understand Italian. But don’t think that I read literary stuff at home, because I don’t. Unlike you, I wasn’t born into a wealthy family and I don’t have the advantage of a good education.’

Jess could not hide the tremor in her voice. Drago was highly intelligent and had an extensive knowledge of many subjects. She felt embarrassed by her lack of education, and he clearly thought she was a brainless bimbo. ‘At least I’m not a snob, who criticises other people for their tastes,’ she finished hotly.

Drago raked a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t trying to insult you. Dio, you are such a firebrand.’

His exasperation faded and he felt an unexpected tug of tenderness when he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He was unwilling to explain that the photograph of a beautiful socialite on the front cover of the magazine was an unwelcome reminder of his past. Nor could he explain to Jess that watching the little boy in the café had evoked an ache in his gut. Some things were best left buried. He had never before felt inclined to talk about his past to any of his lovers, and there was no reason why he should do so with Jess, he told himself.

He gave a frustrated sigh when he saw Fico’s burly figure heading towards them across the square. What he wanted to do was take Jess back to the palazzo and make love to her but, as always, duty to his family prevailed. He was concerned about his cousin, and had promised his aunt that he would speak to the consultant and find out whether Angelo’s headaches were an indication of something more serious.

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_3f7cb87e-6d42-5ba1-861b-b13bb5c91040)

WHERE WAS DRAGO? Jess glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, and her tension escalated when she saw that it was ten to eight. Any minute now the party guests would begin to arrive, expecting to be greeted by their host. Instead they would be met by a hostess whose social skills were sadly inadequate, she thought, feeling another stab of nervousness at the prospect of the evening ahead. Fortunately Drago’s butler Francesco was his usual unflappable self, and had informed her that the household staff had completed all the preparations for the party.

Leaving her bedroom, which she had never actually slept in during her stay at the palazzo but used as a dressing room, she walked back to the master suite and felt weak with relief when Drago strolled into the sitting room from his bedroom.

‘There you are!’ Her relief gave way to anger as she watched him calmly adjust his cufflinks as if he had all the time in the world. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why, cara, I didn’t know you cared,’ he drawled.

‘I meant I was worried you wouldn’t get back in time.’ She fell silent, puzzled by his attitude, and by the strange feeling that he was avoiding her gaze. ‘Were you delayed at the hospital? How is Angelo?’

‘He’s fine.’ Perhaps realising that he had sounded curt, Drago finally looked at her. ‘We’ll talk about him later,’ he said obliquely.

He smiled suddenly, and Jess felt a familiar knee-jerk reaction as he roamed his eyes over her.

His voice softened. ‘You look amazing, mia bella. The dress is perfect for you.’

She flushed, feeling stupidly shy. ‘It’s a beautiful dress. I’ve never worn anything like it before.’

The full-length royal blue satin gown that Jess had discovered in her room when she had gone to change for the party was exquisite; the deceptively simple design flattered her slender figure and the crystal studded shoulder straps and narrow belt gave the dress extra glamour. One of the maids had helped her with her hair, and had swept it up into a sleek chignon. Three-inch sliver stiletto sandals gave her additional height, and when Jess had studied her reflection in the mirror she had been shocked to see herself looking so elegant.

‘Is the dress from the Cassa di Cassari range of clothes?’

‘No. I asked the designer Torre Umberto to make it especially for you. This will be a perfect accessory for the dress.’

As he walked towards her Drago took something from his pocket. Jess gasped when he held it up and she saw that it was a strand of glittering diamonds interspersed with square-cut sapphires.

‘I don’t think I should wear it. Supposing I lose it?’ she said nervously. A little shiver ran through her when she felt his warm breath on the back of her neck as he fastened the necklace around her throat.

‘Of course you won’t lose it.’ He turned her towards the mirror and she caught her breath at the sight of the diamonds sparkling with fiery brilliance against her skin.

‘I feel like I’ve stepped into the pages of a fairy tale,’ she whispered, staring at the reflection of the beautiful woman whom she hardly recognised as herself, and the dark, dangerously attractive man standing behind her. She gave another shiver when Drago bent his head and trailed his lips down the length of her slender white neck. In the mirror she watched his eyes glitter with a look she knew so well, and his hunger for her made her insides melt.

He turned her to face him, but instead of kissing her, as she longed for him to do, he stepped away from her and ran a hand through his hair.

‘Jess…we need to talk.’

Puzzled that he seemed uncharacteristically ill at ease, she said quietly, ‘What about?’

He cursed at the sound of a knock on the door, and strode across the room to open it. After a brief conversation with the butler he glanced back at her, his frustration that they had been interrupted revealed in his taut voice. ‘Francesco says that some of the guests have arrived. We had better go down and greet them.’

Her foster-mother had had a habit of quoting proverbs, and one in particular—You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear—had never seemed more appropriate, Jess brooded later in the evening. Thanks to the haute couture dress she was wearing she did not look out of place among the glamorous women party guests. But it had quickly become apparent that she did not fit into Drago’s rarefied world of the sophisticated super-rich.

Dinner had been a nightmare; she hadn’t known which cutlery to use for each course, and she’d managed to knock over a glass of wine belonging to the guest sitting next to her. One of the waiters had calmly mopped up the mess, but she’d felt everyone’s eyes on her and wanted to die of embarrassment.

The fact that she did not speak Italian had not proved a problem, as most of the guests spoke English, but while they’d discussed a range of subjects including politics, current affairs and the arts, Jess had struggled to find something to say. She knew nothing about opera, she had never skied in Aspen—or anywhere else for that matter—and enquiries about her chosen career were met with surprise followed by an awkward silence when she revealed that she ran a decorating company.