Page 27 of Seduced by Her Fake Husband (The Martinelli Wedding #2)

He was good-looking. She couldn’t deny that.

Gorgeous even. How the disgusting Lorenzo had bred four gorgeous offspring was something she’d take up with the higher being if she were admitted into heaven.

Lorenzo’s wife was a handsome woman, so probably they’d inherited their looks from her side of the gene pool, but still.

There was a basic unfairness at play. Having the face of an angel when you had the heart of the devil put the unwitting at a disadvantage.

Marisa wasn’t unwitting. Ignoring Federico’s blatant ogling was the best way to deal with a situation like this.

Carry on dancing and pretend not to feel his eyes on her.

Carry on dancing and refuse to reciprocate the long looks.

Except… it was hard not to look back. It felt like being back at school.

There had been a boy she’d known for years and shared many subject classes with, but had never given more than a passing thought to until one science lesson when she was fifteen she’d turned her head and found him staring at her.

After that, it had been a nightmare to stop herself from staring back, in part to see if he was still looking and in part because knowing he was interested in her had piqued her interest in him.

When he’d finally asked her on a date, she’d become so taken with him that she accepted. It had been an unmitigated disaster.

Soon after that date, Marisa had spent two years committed to the idea of being a nun.

While she’d long since abandoned thoughts of joining a convent, she was still to go on another date. She’d been asked on occasion but always gracefully declined. Either they didn’t make her feel anything or they were the type of men she could imagine having to use her knee on again.

None of those men had been even a fraction as dangerous as Federico Esposito or had a fraction of his swarthy good looks.

Square-jawed, his nose was a touch too big and his mouth too wide, but they fitted him perfectly.

It was his eyes, though, that were the killer.

They were deep-set and piercing, and as she danced, she couldn’t help wonder what colour they were.

Dark brown like his hair, which he wore short at the sides and long at the top? Instinct told her not.

The tempo of the music changed to a slower beat.

Catching Luisa’s eye, she mimicked having a drink.

Her sister’s glance darted to the table their champagne was warming and flattening on, and she made a slight grimace before nodding.

Gennaro was sat at that table deep in conversation with his brother and Niccolo’s best friend, the affable playboy Dante Coscarelli.

She’d barely set off when the hairs on the nape of her neck lifted. The beats of her heart were already accelerating when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to find the imposingly tall and broad figure of Federico Esposito standing before her.

His eyes… they were blue; a deep, piercing blue… gleamed down at her. “Dance with me?”

Taken aback at this forwardness from a man she’d never spoken to, she scrambled for a response. “I was about to have a drink.”

“One dance and then a drink?”

Trying not to panic, she looked for Luisa, but her sister had disappeared from the dance floor.

Drawing his eyebrows together, he cast her with a pleading look and placed a hand on his chest, right where his heart rested. “Please?” he beseeched, practically fluttering his long, dark eyelashes. “One little dance?”

When he put it like that, how could she refuse? And it was only one dance. And he was Federico Esposito, so agreeing to one little dance was probably safer than a flat-out refusal. One little dance, and then she would glue herself to Luisa.

“Okay. One dance.”

He broke into a grin so wide faint lines appeared at the sides of his eyes. “You have just made my evening.” Stepping closer, he put his hands on her hips.

The warmth of his touch was frighteningly electric and made her want to bolt, and she had to summon all her courage to place her hands lightly on his shoulders.

Marisa wasn’t the most confident dancer at the best of times, and she’d never danced with a man before…

Okay, she had once, but that had been with her dad at a family party, and so didn’t count.

To have her first real dance with a man who happened to be the notorious Federico Esposito made her limbs stiffen and her torso go rigid.

“Relax. I don’t bite,” he murmured before putting his mouth to her ear and with seductive good-humour added, “Unless invited to.”

With the warmth of his breath dancing against her sensitive skin, revulsion and a curious excitement laced her spine.

Frightened at how hard her heart was beating, she would have wriggled out of his hold if he hadn’t slid his hands from her hips to the bare skin of her lower back and closed the tiny gap between them.

A shock of sensation flushed through her, and suddenly she was struggling to breathe, every ragged inhalation pulling in a microdose of his scent.

He smelled beautiful. There was none of the overpowering cologne so many of their countrymen liked to douse themselves in.

Federico smelled clean and fresh. She couldn’t say why, but his scent reminded her of fresh oranges warming in the hot summer sun.

Without thinking, she slid her hands up to hook around his neck and pressed her cheek into his chest.

His hold on her tightened.

“I’ve been watching you all night.” His breath was hot on the top of her head. “You eclipse every woman here.”

But she couldn’t speak, not with her breasts crushed against him.

She could feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his heartbeat through the silk of his light blue shirt.

There was something incredibly solid about him, a masculinity that made her feel her femininity in a way she never had before.

The tune they were swaying to stopped. Another track came on.

She concentrated hard to pull in a full breath and then slid her hands down to his chest to gently push him away.

She had to summon all her courage to meet his stare. Clearing her throat, she said, “That’s our one dance done.”

His hands moved back to her hips. There was something wolfish about the hungry gleam in his eyes. “Another?”

The temptation to hook her hands back around his neck was almost overwhelming, the gleam in his eyes close to hypnotic.

If she hadn’t spotted her sister slinging her handbag over her shoulder and her brother-in-law rising from the table to exchange a manly embrace with Dante, there was every chance she’d have agreed.

With escape now real, relief shot through her. Smiling, she shook her head. “Thank you, but it looks like we’re leaving.”

His forehead creased in disappointment. “Already? It’s so early.”

“It’s not up to me. I’m travelling with my sister and brother-in-law.”

His hypnotic stare not leaving hers, he caught her hand and threaded their fingers. His hand was practically twice the size of hers. “Stay. I’ll see you get safely home.”

This should not be such a tempting proposition… “I live a two-hour flight away.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I can get you home. Don’t leave me when we’ve only just found each other.”

Her brain in serious danger of becoming scrambled, Marisa shook her head to give herself a much-needed reality check. This was Federico Esposito, thug, notorious lothario and breaker of hearts.

She tugged her fingers out of his. “Don’t worry, Federico – there are plenty of other women for you to find here.”

“But you’re the only woman I see… and call me Rico.”

“Get yourself to an optician, Rico . You’re a little young to be losing your eyesight.”

He put his hand back to his heart. “Your beauty has blinded me.”

“Invest in new sunglasses then.” Absurdly amused, she grinned and stepped around him. “Thank you for the dance. Enjoy the rest of the party.”

“Can I call you?” he called as she walked away.

She flipped her stare over her shoulder, and, still grinning, said, “No. Goodbye, Rico.”

*

“Looks like you owe me ten thousand,” Tommaso said the moment Rico rejoined his brothers at the bar.

He knew damned well the pair of them had watched the entirety of his dance with Marisa and had seen her sashay away from him without looking back.

She’d downed what had remained of her champagne and then, with her sister and brother-in-law, left the party. Again, without looking back at him.

But she’d wanted to. She’d walked out of the party with the posture of someone feigning nonchalance.

“Losing your touch, little brother?” Mattia asked with an ironic lift of his eyebrows.

Rico flicked his chin and made a pft sound. As if he’d lost his touch. He’d felt Marisa’s hot little body tremble in his arms. Seen, too, the confused desire in her stare when she’d met his eyes after their dance. His hot little virgin unicorn was attracted to him.

“Ten thousand. Bitcoin works for me,” Tommaso said.

Rico met his stare thoughtfully and smiled. “How about we extend the bet?”

“No. You lost. Pay up.”

His smile widened. “This one is going to take time and effort, so let’s make the bet reflect that.”

Tommaso laughed. “You will never have her. Not that one.”

“I bet you that by the time our sister marries, I will have had her. Name your price.”

“If you’re that confident, I want in too,” Mattia said while Tommaso’s eyes narrowed in thought. “If you bed her by the wedding, I will give you my Swiss chalet.”

Rico’s eyes widened in glee. “And if I fail?” Which he wouldn’t.

“Your Dali collection.”

Now Rico winced. Dali was the only artist, living or dead, he had any time for, and he’d spent a small fortune over the years hunting originals and paying an obscene amount to make them his. Still, he wasn’t going to fail so there was no danger of him losing them.

He held his hand out to Mattia. “Deal. And when I win the bet, I’ll hang the collection in my new Swiss chalet.”

They shook on it, and then Rico turned back to Tommaso. “Well?”

Tommaso’s eyes gleamed. “Your Neiman Marcus in exchange for my Patek Philippe.”

“Go screw yourself. The Neiman’s worth much more than your watch.” Rico’s limited edition motorcycle was his pride and joy. He was more attached to it than to any woman, including his mother. “Add your Ferrari and you’ll have a deal.”

“Deal. But I want evidence. No evidence, and you lose by default. There will be no extension.”

Rico rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sure. Whatever. Your watch is going to look great on my wrist.”

The second bet shaken on and sealed, the three brothers clinked their glasses together and downed their shots.