Back in Italy he had been given an ultimatum which needed addressing and he needed to consider the truth behind his father’s words.
‘Give me an heir, Matteo,’ he had breathed. ‘Continue the Valenti name and I will give you your heart’s desire. Refuse and I will sign the estate over to your stepbrother and his child.’
Matteo’s heart kicked with pain. He had to decide how much he was willing to sacrifice to maintain his links to the past. He needed to return to his world. And Keira to hers.
His jaw tightened. Would he have stopped if he’d known he was her first? He might have wanted to stop but something told him he would have been powerless to pull back from the indescribable lure of her petite body. His throat dried as he remembered that first sweet thrust. She had seemed much too small to accommodate him, but she had taken him inside her as if he had been intended to fit into her and only her. He remembered the way she’d touched him with that tentative yet sure touch. She’d made him want to explode. Had the newness of it been responsible for her joyful response—and for the tears which had trickled against his shoulder afterwards, but which she’d hastily blotted away?
Suddenly he could understand the potent power wielded by virgins but he could also recognise that they were a responsibility. They still had dreams—because experience hadn’t yet destroyed them. Would she be expecting him to take her number? For him to fly her out to Rome for a weekend of sex and then see what happened? Hand in hand for a sunset stroll along Trastevere, Rome’s supposedly most romantic neighbourhood? Because that was never going to happen. His jaw tightened. It would only raise up her hopes before smashing them.
He heard her murmur something in her sleep and felt the heavy weight of his conscience as he batted possibilities back and forth. What would be the best thing he could do for Keira—this sexy little driver with the softest lips he’d ever known? Glancing at his watch, he saw from the luminous dial that it was just before midnight and the rest of the house had grown silent. Could he risk using the landline downstairs without waking everyone? Of course he could. Slipping from the sex-scented bed, he threw on some clothes and made his way downstairs.
He placed the call without any trouble, but his mood was strangely low after he’d terminated his whispered conversation and made his way back to the bedroom. With the light from the corridor flooding in, he stared at Keira’s face, which was pillowed on a bent elbow. Her lips were curved in a soft smile and he wanted to kiss them. To take her in his arms and run his hands over her and do it all over again. But he couldn’t. Or rather, he shouldn’t.
He was careful not to touch her as he climbed into bed, but the thought of her out-of-bounds nakedness meant that he lay there sleeplessly for a long, long time.
A PALE LIGHT woke her and for a moment Keira lay completely still, her head resting against a lumpy pillow as her eyes flickered open and she tried to work out exactly where she was. And then she remembered. She was in a strange bedroom on the edge of a snowy Dartmoor—and she’d just lost her virginity to the powerful billionaire she’d been driving around the country!
She registered the sweet aching between her legs and the delicious sting of her nipples as slowly she turned her head to see that the other half of the bed was empty. Her pulse speeded up. He must be in the bathroom. Quickly, she sat up, raking her fingers through her mussed hair and giving herself a chance to compose herself before Matteo returned.
The blindingly pale crack of light shining through the gap in the curtains showed that the snow was still very much in evidence and a smile of anticipation curved her lips. Maybe they’d be stuck here today too—and they could have sex all over again. She certainly hoped so. Crossing her arms over her naked breasts, she hugged herself tightly as endorphins flooded through her warm body. Obviously, she’d need to reassure him that although she was relatively inexperienced, she certainly wasn’t naïve. She knew the score—she’d heard the men in the workshop talking about women often enough to know what they did and didn’t like. She would be very grown up about what had happened. She’d make it clear that she wasn’t coming at this with any expectations—although, of course, if he wanted to see her again when the snow had been cleared she would be more than happy with that.
And that was when she noticed the nightstand—or rather, what was lying on top of it. Keira blinked her eyes in disbelief but as her vision cleared she realised this was no illusion as she stared in growing horror at the enormous wad of banknotes. She felt as if she were taking part in some secretly filmed reality show. As if the money might suddenly disintegrate if she touched it, or as if Matteo would suddenly appear from out of hiding. She looked around, realising there was nowhere to hide in this tiny room.
‘Matteo?’ she questioned uncertainly.
Nobody came. Of course they didn’t. She stared at the money and then noticed the piece of paper which was lying underneath it. It took several seconds before she could bring herself to pick it up and as she began to read it she was scarcely able to believe what she was seeing.
Keira, he had written—and in the absence of any affectation like Dear or Darling, she supposed she ought to be grateful that he’d got her name right, because Irish names were notoriously difficult to spell.
I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed last night and I hope you did, too. You looked so peaceful sleeping this morning that I didn’t want to wake you—but I need to be back in Italy as soon as possible.
You told me your dream was to spend Christmas in a luxury hotel and I’d like to make this possible, which is why I hope you’ll accept this small gift in the spirit with which it was intended.
And if we’d been playing poker for money, you would certainly have walked away with a lot more than this!
I wish you every good thing for your future.
Buon Natale.
Matteo.
Keira’s fingers closed tightly around the note and her feeling of confusion intensified as she stared at the money—more money than she’d ever seen. She allowed herself a moment of fury before getting up out of bed, acutely aware that for once she wasn’t wearing her usual nightshirt, and the sight of her naked body in the small mirror taunted her with memories of just what she and the Italian had done last night. And once the fury had passed she was left with hurt, and disappointment. Had she really been lying there, naïvely thinking that Matteo was going to emerge from the bathroom and take her in his arms when the reality was that he couldn’t even bear to face her? What a stupid fool she’d been.
She washed and dressed and went downstairs, politely refusing breakfast but accepting a mug of strong tea from Mary, who seemed delighted to relay everything which had been happening while Keira had been asleep.
‘First thing I know, there’s a knock on the door and it’s a man in one of those big four-wheel drives,’ she announced.
‘Which managed to get through the snow?’ questioned Keira automatically.
‘Oh, yes. Because Mr Valenti ordered a car with a snow plough. Apparently he got on the phone late last night while everyone was asleep and organised it. Must have been very quiet because nobody heard him.’
Very quiet, thought Keira grimly. He must have been terrified that she would wake up and demand he take her with him.
‘And he’s ordered some men to dig your car out of the snow. Said there was no way you must be stranded here,’ said Mary, with a dreamy look on her careworn face. ‘They arrived about an hour ago—they should be finished soon.’
Keira nodded. ‘Can I pay you?’
Mary beamed. ‘No need. Your Mr Valenti was more than generous.’
Keira’s heart pounded; she wanted to scream that he wasn’t ‘her’ anything. So the cash wasn’t there to pay for the B&B or help her make her own journey home, because he’d already sorted all that out. Which left only one