Bound To The Billionaire. Christina Hollis

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.