that drew every eye in the room, the longing, wistful gazes of every man, the envy of every woman’s annoyed glare. She had power in the dignity of her bearing, in the cool glance she gave her new suitor. In the teeth she flashed in a smile that didn’t meet her eyes.
Wolves circling?
She was a she-wolf herself. This countess wasn’t some weak simpering virgin or clinging, cloying debutante. She was powerful. She wielded her beauty and will like a force of nature.
And Roark suddenly wanted her with an intensity that shocked him.
With one glance the woman set fire to his blood. As she moved down the stairs, her curvaceous body swaying with each step, he could already imagine her arching naked in his bed. Gasping out his name with those pouty red lips as he plundered her full breasts and made her tremble and writhe beneath his touch.
This woman that every other man wanted, Roark would take.
Along with the property, of course.
“I am so sorry for your loss, Countess,” Andrew Oppenheimer said earnestly, bending over to kiss her hand.
“Thank you.” Numbly, Countess Lia Villani stared down at the older man. She wished herself back at Villa Villani, mourning quietly in her husband’s overgrown rose garden, enshrouded by medieval stone walls. But she’d no choice but to attend the benefit she and Giovanni had spent the past six months planning. He would have wanted her to be here. The park would be his legacy, as well as her family’s. It would be twenty-six acres of trees and grass and playgrounds, in eternal remembrance of the people she’d loved.
They were all dead now. First her father, then her sister, then her mother. Now her husband. And in spite of the warm summer night outside, Lia’s heart felt as cold and unbeating as if she’d been lowered into the frozen ground with her family long ago.
“We’ll find some way to cheer you up, I hope.” Andrew stood back from her, still holding her hand gently.
Lia forced herself to form her mouth in the semblance of a smile. She knew he was just trying to be kind. He was one of the park trust’s biggest donors. The day after Giovanni had died, he’d written her a check for fifty thousand dollars.
Strange how, in the past two weeks, so many men had suddenly decided to write large checks for the benefit of the park.
Andrew held on to her hand, not allowing her to easily pull away. “Allow me to get you some champagne.”
“Thank you, but no.” She looked away. “I appreciate your kindness, but I really must greet my other guests.”
The ballroom was packed with people; everyone had come. Lia could hardly believe that the Olivia Hawthorne Park in the Far West Side was going to become a reality. The twenty-six acres of railyards and broken-down warehouses would be transformed into a place of beauty, right across the street from where her sister had died. In the future, other kids staying at St. Ann’s Hospital would look out their windows and see a playground and acres of green grass. They’d hear the wind through the trees and the laughter of playing children. They’d feel hope.
What was Lia’s own grief and pain compared to that?
She pulled her hand out of his clasp. “I must go.”
“Won’t you allow me to escort you?” he asked.
“No, I really—”
“Let me stay by your side tonight, Countess. Let me support you in your grief. I know it must be hard on you to be here. Do me the honor of allowing me to escort you, and I will double my donation to the park. Triple it—”
“She said no,” a man’s deep voice said. “She doesn’t want you.”
Lia looked up with an intake of breath. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the base of the stairs. He had dark hair, tanned skin and a hard, muscular shape beneath his perfectly cut tuxedo. And even as he spoke to Andrew, he looked only at her.
He had a gleam in his dark, expressive eyes that made her feel strangely hot all over.
Warmth. Something she hadn’t felt in weeks, in spite of the June weather.
And this was different. No man’s gaze had ever burned her like this.
“Do I know you?” she whispered.
He gave her a lazy, smug smile. “Not yet.”
“I don’t know who you are,” Andrew interrupted coldly, “but the countess is with me—”
“Could you go and get me some champagne, please, Andrew?” she said, turning to him with a bright smile. “Would you mind?”
“No, of course I’d be delighted, Countess.” He gave the stranger a dark look. “But what about him?”
“Please, Andrew.” She placed her hand on his slender wrist. “I’m very thirsty.”
“Of course,” Andrew said with dignity, and went down the stairs toward the waiters carrying flutes of champagne.
With a deep breath, Lia clenched her hands into fists and turned back to the intruder.
“You have exactly one minute to talk before I call security,” she said, walking down the stairs toward him, facing him head-on. “I know the guest list. And I don’t know you.”
But when she stood next to him on the marble floor, she realized how powerfully built the dark stranger truly was. At five-seven, she was hardly petite, but he had at least seven inches and seventy pounds over her.
And even more powerful than his body was the way the man looked at her. His gaze never moved from hers. She found herself unable to look away from the intensity of his dark eyes.
“It’s true you don’t know me. Yet.” He moved closer, looking down at her with an arrogant masculine smile. “But I’ve come to give you what you desire.”
“Oh?” Struggling to control the force of heat spreading through her body, Lia raised her chin. “And just what do you think I desire?”
“Money, Countess.”
“I have money.”
“You’re spending most of your dead husband’s fortune on this foolish charitable endeavor.” He gave her a sardonic smile. “A shame to waste money after you worked so hard to get your hands on it.”
He was insulting her at her own party! Calling her a gold digger! And the fact that it was partially true…
She fought back tears at the slight to Giovanni’s memory then looked at the stranger with every ounce of haughtiness she possessed. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me.”
“Soon I’ll know everything.” Reaching forward, he gently ran a finger along the edge of her jawline and whispered, “Soon I’ll have you in my bed.”
Men had said such ridiculous things to her before, but this time she couldn’t scorn the arrogance of his words. Not when the brief touch of his fingertip against her skin caused a riot of sensation to sear her whole body.
“I’m not for sale,” she whispered.
He lifted her chin. “You’ll be mine, Countess. You’ll want me, as I want you.”
She’d heard about sexual attraction, but thought she’d lost her chance to experience it. Thought herself too cold, too grief stricken, too…numb.
Feeling his hand on her was like a burst of hot sunlight, causing warmth and light to sparkle prisms of diamonds across her frozen body. Warmth unfurled in her. Melted her.
Against her will, she moved closer.
“Want you? That’s ridiculous,” she said hoarsely, her heart pounding. “I don’t even know you.”
“You will.”
He took her