His Poor Little Rich Girl (12 page)

‘But it might take months to get back on your feet. You run a huge corporation. Won’t people start to wonder what’s going on if you don’t turn up to meetings and the like?’

‘The beauty of being the boss of a huge corporation is that I get to choose what meetings I go to and when,’ he said, reaching for a towel. ‘I have a very capable board of directors who run things for me in my absence. But I do not plan to be out of action too much longer. In fact, I have an important meeting next week in Paris. I would like you to accompany me as my mistress. We will be away the whole week. It will be your first major public performance.’

Rachel thought of a week in Paris, pretending to be his mistress. She would be following a long line of women who had probably done the same, although they had been for real. ‘I heard about your last mistress,’ she said, ‘the cosmetics model? She was pretty stunning. Did she know about your illness?’

He tossed the towel to one side. ‘I have to get through this programme, Rachel. Don’t you have some designs to work on or some emails to answer or whatever it is fashion designers do?’

‘Who broke it off? You or her?’ Rachel persisted.

His eyes flashed as they met hers. ‘If you don’t get out I swear to God I will change the terms of our deal right here and now.’

‘You know I can’t pay you anything substantial until the label is successfully launched,’ she said.

‘I wasn’t talking about the money,’ he said, with a dark meaningful look in his eyes.

Rachel’s skin began to tingle and her mouth went completely dry. The silence hummed with tension, a throbbing tension that threatened to snap at any second. She ran her tongue out over her lips, tasting where he had been so recently. It was so intimate, so raw and primal to taste the essence of him: minty and fresh and yet unmistakably, dangerously male. What would it feel like to taste his skin, down his sternum, over his flat abdomen and lower? What would it feel like to taste his aroused flesh, to slide her tongue over the engorged length of him, to tease her tastebuds with the musk of his maleness?

‘Rachel.’

‘Y-yes?’ She almost gulped the word as she met his gaze. Could he see where her mind had been straying? Could he sense how attracted she was to him? She wanted to hide it. How could she want a man who had revenge as his motive for having her here with him like this? How could she possibly want to feel his mouth on hers again? How could she possibly feel as if her life would be over if he didn’t want her the way she wanted him?

‘Leave,’ he said somewhat heavily. ‘I have work to do.’

Her gaze went to the chair that was too far away for him to reach. ‘I could help you if you like,’ she offered, stepping forward to bring the chair closer.

‘Damn it to hell, I told you to leave,’ he bit the words out. ‘Just get the hell out of here, do you hear me?’

Rachel’s hands fell off the back of the wheelchair, her heart slipping sideways in her chest. ‘I’m sorry …’ Her voice came out soft and uncertain. ‘I was only trying to help …’

‘I don’t need your help,’ he threw back with a searing glare. ‘I can do this. I
will
do this. I don’t need you or anyone to help me.’

Rachel left the gym and gently closed the door behind her. She blew out a shaky breath, not sure she was going to be able to handle such a strong and fiercely proud man. But this time his anger and bitterness were directed more at himself than at her, she thought. He hated being vulnerable. He hated having to rely on others to do the tasks he normally took for granted. His plans for her to act as his mistress showed how keen he was to show the world nothing had changed. She wasn’t happy with being part of his plan but she couldn’t see a way out of it. She would have to say yes and live with the consequences.

Alessandro let out a long ragged breath once Rachel had left. She had caught him at his most vulnerable and it made him hate her for it. His muscles ached and burned but not half as much as he ached and burned to possess her. Kissing her had been a crazy move on his part. He had felt those unbelievably soft lips respond to his and within seconds he had felt his steely control slipping. She had the sensual power to humiliate him like no other woman. Had she enjoyed watching him struggle to regain his mobility? Was that why she had refused to leave—so she could document every agonising step of his journey back to wholeness? How could he trust her when she had acted so unpredictably in the past? He had not
seen her rejection coming. That was what tortured him the most. He had been so utterly beguiled by her that he hadn’t seen the game she had been playing.

He gripped the equipment with hands that shook with determination. He was not going to let her do it again. He would lock away his feelings and deal with her on a physical level only. That way when the time was up he would be able to get the closure he had so longed for.

Rachel sat and looked out of the window later that day, chewing on the end of her pencil as she took in the glorious view of the gardens. There was a wisteria climbing rampantly over an arbour, and even though the pendulous blooms of spring had mostly fallen there were still one or two, the scent so strong she could smell it through the open window. It was such an inspiring place to be, far better than any hotel she had envisaged staying in. Already she had drawn several designs for gowns that reflected the old-world glamour of the villa. She could imagine soirées here in the past, people spilling out into the colourful and fragrant garden, the champagne flowing, a string quartet playing, perhaps a few couples dancing. It was such a romantic setting, perfect for falling in love.

She dropped the pencil onto the little desk and sat up straight in her chair. There was no way she was going to fall in love, not with Alessandro. He seemed incapable of the depth of emotion it took for a relationship to survive. His feelings were private, off limits, not to be examined. Had she been the one to do that to him? Had her immaturity and selfishness shut him down for good? If so, what could she do to repair the damage she had caused?

R
ACHEL
was putting the finishing touches to the table in the formal dining room when she heard the sound of the lift being activated. She felt her breath stall momentarily and her skin tingle with alertness.

She stepped back from the table, smoothing her hair back with a hand that wasn’t quite steady. She had dressed in one of her own designs, a long silver gown that had hundreds of hand-stitched Swarovski crystals over the bodice. She wasn’t sure why she had gone to so much trouble. The occasion hardly called for it, but the magnificence of the villa and its atmosphere made her feel as if every dinner here should be an important event.

Alessandro appeared at the doorway, not in his wheelchair this time, but leaning on a pair of crutches.

‘You’re walking!’ Rachel said in surprise.

‘You could call it that,’ he said with a wry look.

‘I think it’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘All your hard work is starting to pay off.’

‘Yes.’ He was silent for a moment as his gaze took in her appearance. ‘You look very beautiful this evening,’ he said.

She felt her cheeks glow from his compliment and lowered her gaze. ‘Thank you.’

‘But I wonder if I should eat what you have prepared for me,’ he added.

Rachel looked at him in confusion. ‘Why do you say that?’

He gave her a look that was rueful. ‘I was rather brusque with you earlier today. I thought perhaps as a consequence of my behaviour I should be concerned about you lacing my food with something poisonous.’

Rachel held his gaze. ‘The only thing I have on hand to poison you with is my tongue.’

He smiled in amusement, the action completely transforming his features. Rachel felt a kick in her belly, a jerky reminder that she was in no way immune to him when he chose to lay on the charm.

‘Then I will have to stay well away from your tongue, won’t I?’ he said with a glint in his eye.

She held that look for as long as she dared. ‘Yes, you will,’ she said but her voice came out husky and soft, nothing like she had intended.

He shifted his gaze and brought himself closer to the table using the crutches. It was clearly an effort for him but she stood back, reluctant to offer help in case he was annoyed or misread it as pity.

‘Thank you,’ he said once he was seated at the table.

‘For what?’ Rachel asked.

‘For not treating me like an invalid.’

‘But you’re not an invalid,’ she said. ‘You’ve already made amazing progress in the short time I’ve been here. I don’t think it will be long before you’re totally recovered.’

There was a little silence.

‘How did you do it last night?’ Rachel asked.

‘How did I do what?’

‘How did you get to the table without assistance?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t see your chair anywhere or the crutches.’

‘I can walk short distances by using the furniture as a support,’ he said. ‘I left the chair out of sight until you had gone upstairs.’

‘Why did you leave it until last night to reveal your condition?’

He studied her for a long moment. ‘I wanted to make sure you were committed to staying here for the money, not out of pity.’

Rachel frowned at him. ‘You’d prefer me to be here just for the money instead of out of compassion?’

‘I knew I could count on your desire for money.’

She took her seat, a frown still pulling at her brow. His opinion of her was appalling but no more than she deserved given her treatment of him in the past. How could she redeem herself? She needed the money. She couldn’t walk away from the deal even if she wanted to for her pride’s sake.

He looked at her with an inscrutable expression. ‘That dress you’re wearing. Is it one of your own designs?’

Rachel slid her hands down the sides of her dress. ‘This old thing?’ she quipped. ‘It’s just something I whipped up one afternoon when I had nothing better to do.’

‘So you sew as well as design?’ he asked.

‘Yes, of course. It’s how I got started. I played around with making my own stuff and then I found people would stop me in the street or at a function I was attending and ask me where I got my dress. I decided I had something to offer so I went to design school. That’s where I met my friend Caitlyn. We decided to join forces. But I feel I’ve let her down …’ She bit her lip. ‘She invested a lot of money in getting us up and running, much more than I did. I was left a little short … well,

I won’t bore you with the details but things were not looking that good for me after I ended things with Craig. There wasn’t a lending institution that would even give me an interview, let alone a loan.’

He sat looking at her, still with that unreadable expression cloaking his thoughts and feelings.

The silence went on and on and on.

Rachel shifted her weight and waved a hand in the direction of the kitchen. ‘I guess I should serve up the first course …’

‘So what have you decided?’ he asked.

She glanced at the document he had set by his place setting. ‘I think you already know I have no choice but to accept your conditions,’ she said.

‘Think of it this way,’ he said, handing her the papers and a pen. ‘Your relationship with me will be the shortest of any I have had so far, less than a month.’

Rachel pursed her lips and looked through the document. It was much the same as the previous one. She had to sign a confidentiality clause and she would receive nothing other than the backing of her label and a generous allowance for every day she spent with him. After their relationship was terminated all business to do with the label would be conducted through one of his management team. It felt so cold and calculated. She hated signing her name to such a contract but the faces of her staff and Caitlyn swam before her eyes, and so she scribbled her name with a deep sigh of resignation.

‘I will pour the wine,’ Alessandro said, putting the papers aside to reach for the bottle Rachel had already set out.

When she came back with their starters the wine glasses were full and the tense atmosphere had eased. She sat down
opposite Alessandro and did her best to pretend this was just like any other dinner between two people who had chosen to spend some time together.

‘This is a lovely place you have here, Alessandro,’ she said. ‘I find it so inspiring. I worked on heaps of designs this afternoon just by looking out at the gardens.’

‘I am glad you like it,’ he said. ‘So tell me about the designs you’ve been working on. What in particular inspired you?’

She drew in a breath and then released it as she picked up her wine glass, cupping it with both hands as she gathered her thoughts. ‘I don’t know … just the whole atmosphere here, I guess. I don’t know the history of the place but it seems the sort of villa that in the past has been at the heart of society: parties, gatherings, celebrations—that sort of thing. I can picture in my mind the women dressed in gorgeous gowns, the men in tuxedos. The gardens are spectacular. I can smell the flowers from my bedroom. It would be a great venue for a wedding …’ She stopped and lowered her gaze, dipping her head to her glass and taking a sip of her wine. What on earth was she talking about weddings for?

‘Have you ever designed a wedding gown?’ Alessandro asked.

Rachel put her glass down and met his gaze. ‘Yes, a couple by request and it was a great experience. It’s something Caitlyn and I have considered branching further into but it all depends on finances.’

‘Do you miss your modelling career?’ Alessandro asked after another short silence.

‘Yes and no,’ Rachel admitted. ‘I found some aspects of it wonderful. I loved all the wonderful clothes and the buzz of a show, but there was always a downside. The constant
battle to be what the latest trend demanded, the competition between girls you thought were your friends but weren’t. I found it hard to work out what was real and what was false. I like the other side of the catwalk. I can do my thing without the other stuff.’

‘I guess the advantage you have now is you know how both sides work,’ he said. ‘You can work the system, so to speak.’

‘Is that what you do?’ Rachel asked. ‘It’s a rags-to-riches tale most people from your background only ever dream of.’