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Could she? She swallowed. Because right now the person she most wanted to be was the kind of woman who would stride up to the powerfully built man who was standing on the balcony and boldly ask him to dance. And he would say yes. Of course he would. He might even give a delighted laugh as he pulled her into his arms. Beneath the tight bodice her nipples grew hard as she imagined herself melting into that impressively honed body and…
‘Signora?’
An unfamiliar voice breaking into her wayward fantasies, Grace turned to see a man, his name badge marking him out as an official rather than a guest, his face sour and slightly malicious. Her breath froze. Had she been rumbled? Had slipping in through the staff entrance made it obvious she didn’t have a ticket?
‘Yes?’ she answered, in English rather than her more usual Venetian dialect, hoping the man might treat her more deferentially if he thought she was a wealthy tourist.
But annoyingly, he immediately switched to the same language. ‘Your ticket, please,signora?’
Grace swallowed. It was her worst nightmare come true. She pictured herself being publicly ejected and word getting back to her boss. Wouldn’t he accuse her of bringing his aristocratic name into disrepute and wouldn’t those be grounds enough for him to sack her? Her contract wasn’t formal—in fact, she didn’t evenhavea contract.
Desperately, she considered her options. She could turn tail and flee, or she could try to brazen it out. But how? She glanced up to see the man in black, who hadn’t moved. He was still there. And unbelievably, he was still watching her, a small curve playing around his sensual lips as he studied the reaction between her and the official. Was it her imagination, or had he just imperiously bowed his head in her direction—as if he were granting her permission to approach?
‘Signora?’repeated the official. ‘Your ticket, please.’
And suddenly she knew exactly what she was going to do. For one night only she was going to forget about being careful Grace Foster. Timid Grace Foster who never put a foot wrong, who always bowed to authority and rules. Tonight was supposed to be about doing whatshewanted, although she wasn’t exactly sure what that might be. The only thing she did know was that the brooding figure in black looked commanding and indomitable. A safe haven, she thought with sudden certainty—which was surprising, given the undeniable edge of danger he exuded. Could he rescue her from this annoying little man?
Sucking in a deep breath, she began to hurry towards him.
CHAPTER TWO
Fromhisvantagepoint on the balustrade, Odysseus had watched the woman in red stumbling into the ballroom, looking almost as if somebody had pushed her and, unexpectedly, he had been deliciously and unusually fascinated. By her tiny waist and diminutive frame, yes, both emphasised by the rich hue of the scarlet gown she wore. But by something else, too. Her movements were jerky, as if she were a puppet whose strings were being pulled. As he had watched her startled gaze roaming around the groups of exotically clad guests before coming to rest on him, it had crossed his mind that she was behaving like an outsider.
And that struck a chord within him. Because wasn’t thathim?
Always.
Even now.
Despite the billions he had accumulated in his bank accounts, despite the generous contributions he made to his charities, and the party invitations which flooded into his life like a river—deep down wasn’t he the same person he’d always been? The outcast boy who had never fitted in, who had become a man with those same square-peg qualities.
But he didn’t care how he appeared to others. He was never diffident, nor apologetic. Not like the woman in red, who had almost jumped out of her skin when one of the staff stopped to say something to her. His eyes narrowed as he observed the awkward interchange between them and as she glanced up in his direction again, he sensed the appeal emanating from her petite frame.
Almost imperceptibly, he inclined his head and she began to move towards him, jerkily negotiating her way through the crowds. In a swirl of scarlet silk, she made her way up the stairs leading to the balustrade, the official following closely behind. Odysseus watched as she approached and said, ‘I’m sorry,’ as she brushed past a woman nearby. But something made him smile as she reached him, for she was even smaller than he’d thought.
‘Hi!’ she exclaimed, her voice bright and slightly brittle, before she added in an undertone, ‘Can you act like you know me? Please?’
His interest very definitely alerted now, he curved his lips into a smile. ‘Of course,’ he murmured softly.
The official stepped forward. ‘Do you know this woman,signor?’
The man’s tone of entitlement and judgement set Odysseus’s nerves jangling, for he was sensitive to both. ‘Do I know her? I most certainly do. I’ve been standing here waiting for her for the best part of an hour, but you know what women are like,’ he drawled.
She raised herself up on tiptoe and touched her lips to his jaw in a butterfly brush of temptation. ‘Sorry I kept you,’ she said.
‘I’ll forgive you this time,darling,’ he said, looping his arm around her tiny waist and drawing her into the contours of his body. Her sigh of relief was audible and he found himself wanting to echo it, because she fitted so deliciously against him, as if she had been designed for no other purpose than that. Something visceral made him splay his fingers around her waist, which had the effect of making her nestle even closer, giving him the opportunity to breathe in her perfumed warmth. And he took it. Briefly indulging his senses with her subtle scent before turning to speak to the man in a whisper which every person who had ever crossed him would have recognised, and feared. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he demanded silkily.
‘Er…no.’ The man’s Adam’s apple began to work convulsively. ‘No.Nothing is wrong. My mistake,signor.Scusi.’
Waylaying the official with a peremptory elevation of his free hand, Odysseus glanced down at the woman by his side. ‘Has he been bothering you,darling?’
She shook her head. ‘I… No.’
‘Sure?’
A grateful smile curved her scarlet lips. ‘Honestly, it’s okay.’
‘Well, in that case—’ Odysseus slanted the man a look of dismissal ‘—I was just about to ask the lady to dance. So if you wouldn’t mind…?’