Ella’s eyes had gone silver, like the stars in the sky, a pretty contrast to the delicate pink blush that stained her cheeks. Her skin felt so soft against his palms, as soft as he’d always imagined it would. No, maybe even more so.

A kiss. Right now.

The lovely cupid’s bow of a mouth was the same pink as her cheeks, and he knew it was going to taste so fucking sweet. She was so little and fragile and perfect. Scared and yet so very brave at the same time.

Offering him something that he wanted very, very badly indeed.

He took a slow, silent breath, staring down into her face. Fearfulness glittered in her eyes, along with a defiant anger that made his blood pump hard in his veins. She was looking at him very directly, all her attention on him instead of glancing away, and he felt it move over him like sunlight. Making him want to lift his head and close his eyes, glory in the warmth of it on his skin.

She’d never looked at him like that before and it made him hungry for more. He didn’t want to be ignored or held at arm’s length, not by her. In fact, he couldn’t stand the thought of it.

This was what he wanted. Her attention on him. All her passionate emotions—whether fury or desire or fear—directed at him. Yes, and now he had that attention, he definitely wasn’t going to give it up.

Patience, remember? You should wait.

Yeah, he knew that. But fuck, she was offering what he’d wanted for years, and maybe he should take it. After all, hadn’t he always planned that tonight he’d take a kiss from her? See what kind of chemistry they had between them? Perhaps he should have been upfront with her from the outset, but he hadn’t wanted her to run from him.

Sure, it would be a pity not to have the dinner, but he was in no hurry. There would be plenty of time for other dinners. Sure, he’d wanted her to give the kiss to him because she was as desperate as he was, not because she was pissed, but then you couldn’t have everything.

You can’t let her dictate terms. Once she knows she has power over you, that’s the end.

Ridiculous. She had no power here and they both knew it. But maybe letting her think she could manipulate him wouldn’t be a bad idea. People became careless once they thought they had the upper hand. They became complacent, dropped their guard. Which is exactly what he wanted from her.

“A kiss now, huh?” He pressed his fingertips lightly against the softness of her skin, enjoying the warmth against his palms. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“I’m sure.”

She swallowed, and he couldn’t help but follow the movement of her long, pale throat, down to the pulse that leapt and fluttered at the base of it. Pretty. So very pretty.

“Okay, then.” The words were a little husky, which should have worried him yet didn’t. Not with the heat of her body so close to his and the rain-soaked scent of flowers all around him, muting the constant restlessness that moved like a million ants beneath his skin. “Have it your way. I’ll have the kiss now and then take you home.”

She inhaled and he could feel tension gather in her jaw and neck. In the rest of her small, slender body. It looked like she was bracing herself for an unpleasant task that she was nevertheless determined to endure.

Brave little bunny. Silly little bunny. Did she really think kissing him would be unpleasant? It made him want to play with her a bit as a punishment for that and for wanting out of his special dinner.

He let his gaze roam over her, stroking his thumbs along the line of her jaw before sliding his fingers along and around the fragile curve of her skull, tipping her head back further, exposing her throat.

Her eyes widened in alarm, her body going rigid.

He ignored it. “Hmmmm, what kind of kiss shall I take? Shall I take it”—he ran one thumb along the line of her lower lip—“here? Or maybe”—letting one hand drop, he brushed his fingertips against the frantically racing pulse at the base of her neck—“here?” Her skin was so very soft and silky there too, and he felt the tremble that shook her as he touched her.

“I said one kiss, Rafael.” There was a thread of something running through her voice. A thread of something . . . hot.

He looked into her eyes, studying the expression in them, a complicated mixture of fear and anger and . . . was that reluctant excitement? “You did say that. You just didn’t specify where.”

She blinked rapidly. “I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

“Then you’ll know for future reference, won’t you?” He let his hand drop lower. “Maybe I’ll kiss you ”—one fingertip brushed over the front of her gray sweater, grazing the hardened tip of her nipple through the wool—“here.”

The breath came out of her in a soft rush of sound, her eyes getting rounder, but he’d already moved his hand lower down, touching the button of her jeans. “Or maybe even”—he lightly stroked down the denim covering her zipper—“here.”

Ella took another gasping breath, shivering, the flush in her cheeks getting deeper, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before in her entire life. It was delicious the way she looked at him. Finally, after years of him watching her, she was at last seeing him.

Suddenly, he wanted to push her. Drop to his knees in front of her and undo the button on her jeans, take down her zipper, spread the denim, and uncover that sweet little pussy of hers. Take the kiss he was owed from her there.

But that would be getting ahead of himself. He wanted her begging him for that and she certainly wasn’t at that stage yet. And besides, he wasn’t entirely sure that if he started kissing her there, he’d be able to stop—and that was not what he’d promised himself.

“No,” he said. “Maybe not there. Not yet.” He slid his fingers back along her jaw, cradling her head in both palms and tipping it back even more. The sound of her breathing was audible in the silent room, fast and ragged, her lashes falling, veiling her gaze.

“That’s right, don’t look at me,” he taunted softly, unable to help himself. “I’m too much for you, aren’t I?”

She jerked her head in violent negation, but she didn’t open her eyes.

He wanted to force her to open them, to look at him, to watch as he kissed her, but then that would be rushing things and he didn’t want to do that. Not with her. A slow seduction was what he was after, a gradual wearing down of her defenses. Because that was the most delicious part of all, undermining her dislike of him, changing it into something else, into a passion she wouldn’t be able to deny.

Rafe let her keep her protective darkness as he lowered his head to the pale arch of her throat. He paused for a moment, inhaling the scent of roses and the tantalizing hint of feminine musk. Allowed himself a smile, because if he wasn’t much mistaken, that was the scent of arousal. The way he had her head tipped back in his hands meant her body was arched into his and the thin wool of her sweater was pulling tight over her small breasts, letting him see the hardened points of her nipples. Yes, very definitely arousal.

Satisfaction rolled through him and his smile widened as he closed the distance, pressing his mouth gently against the racing pulse at the base of her throat.

A single kiss. A brush of his lips against her skin. A butterfly kiss to confuse her, to tantalize her. Make her shiver and wish for more.

At least, that’s what he’d intended it to be. But then she sighed, and it sounded like surrender, all the tension leaving her body. She became pliant in his hands, leaning into him as if she wanted his touch, as if she needed it to keep her upright.

And something went off like a firework in his head, a switch being tripped.

He opened his mouth, unable to stop himself, touching the delicate skin of her throat with his tongue, tasting salt and roses and something else he couldn’t describe. Something that was intrinsically Ella. Hot and musky and so delicious it stole the breath from him.

He found his fingers curling into her hair, pressing against the side of her head, holding her more firmly as he opened his mouth wider, closing his teeth very gently over the delicate tendons at the side of her neck.

She made a soft sound and shuddered, her hands coming up. And he expected her to try to push him away, but she didn’t. Instead her fingers closed around his forearms, holding on tightly, her breathing frantic as she leaned back into his palms, exposing her throat even further. As if she wanted more.

Yes. Fucking yes. Christ how long had he waited for her? Two whole years of sitting in the dark at the back of the theater, watching her dance her heart out across the stage. Wanting her. Hating every male dancer who touched her, wishing it was him with his hands on her supple body. Wishing she’d look at him the way she looked at them. With passion and longing. Wishing it was real.

Well, now it fucking was.

Hell, why keep waiting? He could have her right here, right now. On the floor or on the table, he didn’t much care where. Have her naked body finally bare to him, to his hands, to his mouth . . .

No. You were going to be patient, remember? If you take her now, you won’t leave her wanting more.

Ah, fuck. Of course. He couldn’t gorge himself now, no matter how much he wanted to. He had a plan and he couldn’t forget that. He hadn’t forgotten when he was plotting his father’s downfall and he shouldn’t forget now just because she’d made his dick hard.

He was master of himself and even though keeping himself in check had been one of the hardest lessons to learn, he’d done it. He wouldn’t lose control, not ever again.

Getting a handle on himself, he forced away the hunger, lifting his head and letting her go, gently disengaging her hands from his forearms and stepping away to put some distance between them.

There was a slightly dazed expression on her face, her mouth open, her skin flushed, the gray of her eyes darkened.

Satisfaction clenched tight inside him again. He’d done that her. He’d put that look on her face. He’d wanted her shocked and off-balance in her response to him, and it looked like he’d succeeded.

He gave her a wolfish smile. “Thank you, Ella. I’m sad you don’t want to stay here and have dinner, but I think that kiss was a good substitute.” He casually adjusted his cufflinks, giving no hint of the raging desire that burned brightly inside of him. “A car will be waiting to take you home.”

She blinked. “I . . . um . . .” Then she stopped and cleared her throat, lifting a hand to her hair as if to smooth it before letting it fall again. She looked adorably confused, which only satisfied him even more.

“I’ll be in touch, Little Red. I’m afraid I have a few more hoops for you to jump through before you get to go to Paris.”

She stiffened. “But you said—”

“I’d go now, if I were you.” There were teeth in his smile this time, because it turned out his control wasn’t as perfect as he’d thought it was and he was, after all, very, very hungry. “Before I change my mind and fuck you right here on the floor.”

Ella opened her mouth. Shut it.

Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

* * *

The car was waiting for her at the base of the building, exactly as he’d said, and Ella got in without a word, her head still ringing like she’d taken a blow to the back of it.

As the limo made its way through the midevening traffic, she tried not to think about what had happened up there in the restaurant. Tried not to think about the feel of Rafael’s hand on her jaw or his mouth on her skin, or his teeth closing gently on her neck. Tried not to think about how everything inside of her had melted in response. Had just gone . . . limp. Like a kitten being picked up by its scruff.

She didn’t understand herself. She’d been so furious with his arrogance and high-handedness, and giving him that kiss had been the last thing she’d wanted to do. But she’d made herself do it because she didn’t want to give in to the fear or show that fear to him, yet somehow, in the end, she’d wound up revealing far more than she’d ever intended.

Ella gave a soft groan and leaned forward, covering her face with her hands. When he’d bitten her, she’d arched into his lean, strong body, exposing her throat to him, almost as if she’d wanted more. God, what the hell had she been thinking?

Actually, she hadn’t been thinking, which was the problem. She’d responded out of pure instinct, the hot burn of his mouth on her skin overwhelming her in a flood of—

No. She wasn’t going to think about this, not now. Not here in his limo.

She sat up again, flat-backed, trying to find something else to focus on. And she mostly succeeded as the limo finally drew up outside her parents’ house and she got out, walking purposefully up the stairs and unlocking the door.

Inside, the silence was thick and heavy and like balm on her jangled nerves. She welcomed it as she made her way to her bedroom, almost getting there before Aurora called out. “Ella? Are you back?”

She stopped, barely suppressing a sigh, because the last thing she felt like doing was giving her grandmother a rundown on Rafael and the dinner. Yet she couldn’t ignore her either, not when it was Aurora who’d encouraged her to go in the first place.

Turning from her bedroom door, she walked back down the hall to Aurora’s room and paused in the doorway.

Her grandmother was lying in bed, bathed in the blue glow of the TV Ella had set up on the small console table at the foot of the four-poster. A lit cigarette was in one wrinkled hand, the TV remote in the other, and there was haze of smoke wreathing her head. “You were trying to avoid me,” Aurora said. “Come on, tell me what happened.”

Ella muttered a curse under her breath before coming into the room, moving over to the windows. “Gran, you really need to keep the windows open. It’s going to end up smelling like a bar in here.”

“No, it won’t. You can’t smoke in bars, not anymore.”

Shaking her head, Ella pushed open the window, pausing to take a breath of the fresh-if frigid air. “It was fine,” she said to the street outside. “The dinner I mean.”

“Bullshit,” Aurora said bluntly. “I saw your face. You’re all flushed.”

Great. Just great.

Ella turned from the window and met her grandmother’s dark eyes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aurora said nothing for a moment. Then she reached over to stub her cigarette out before pushing herself upright against the pillows. “Come here,” she ordered, patting the bed beside her. “Come and tell your old gran all about it.”

A lump rose in Ella’s throat and for some inexplicable reason she found herself near tears. Moving slowly, she came around the side of the bed and sat down, and when Aurora opened her arms, Ella let herself be drawn into a light, if cigarette-scented, hug. She shut her eyes, the tears pressing against her lids.

Her grandmother wasn’t overly demonstrative, but she had a fierce heart that she sometimes let show. Like now.

A gentle hand stroked Ella’s hair, making her close her eyes tighter, reminded painfully for a moment of her mother.

“I know,” Aurora said quietly. “You’re a very strong woman and you try to be very strong for me, so I don’t get worried. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. So tell me, what happened? Did he hurt you? Did he make you cry? Do I need to call the police and get them to haul his rich, entitled ass into jail?”

In spite of the tears, Ella gave a reluctant laugh. Aurora always did know how to make her smile. But as for the strong part? She wasn’t that. Not in the slightest. A strong woman wouldn’t have run from the restaurant the way Ella had.

“No,” she said. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Good. Because it’s either that or I shoot him myself.” She gave Ella’s hair another stroke. “So, if he didn’t hurt you then why are you so upset?”

Ella sighed. Her grandmother was right. She didn’t like to have emotional breakdowns in front of her, because Aurora wasn’t well and Ella didn’t want to worry her. But it was hard sometimes, not being able to talk to anyone—and despite the fact that she didn’t want to, she probably did need to talk about this.

Gently, she disengaged herself from Aurora’s arms and sat up, pushing the strands of hair that had come loose from her bun out of her eyes. “He’d hired out the entire restaurant so we could eat in private, which was fine, but then he started talking about how things were going to be different now he was my guardian. That he was going to be more involved and that if I wanted anything, I was going to have to make a case for it.”

Aurora narrowed her gaze, but didn’t say anything.

“It felt like he was treating me like a child,” Ella went on, fiddling with the corner of the sheet. “So I got angry. I . . . didn’t like being in the room alone with him, and the table was right near the window, and it was really high . . . I was anxious so I probably overreacted. Anyway, I went to storm out, but he followed me and . . .” She stopped, not wanting to tell Aurora the rest of it.

“And he what?”

Ella looked down at her hands. “He . . . touched me.”

There was a brief silence.

“You didn’t like it?” Aurora asked after a moment.

Ella swallowed, not wanting to say it out loud, because she could barely even admit it to herself.

“Ah,” her grandmother murmured as if she’d lifted the answer directly from Ella’s mind. “So that’s how it is.”

A breath escaped her. Should she tell Aurora about the kiss? Ugh, no, definitely not. “I don’t know what happened, Gran. I don’t like him. At all. And yet, I just . . .”

A couple of gnarled, wrinkled hands came to rest over hers where they sat in her lap. “Sometimes chemistry happens when we least want it to and with whom we least want it to. You can be attracted to someone and not like them.”

Her grandmother’s hands were warm, so Ella let her own stay where they were. “I don’t understand myself. I was angry with him and yet, when he touched me, it all went away.”

“Did you ever think that maybe there’s a reason he makes you so angry?” Aurora asked. “That there’s a reason he makes you feel so uncomfortable?”

It was the same question Rafael himself had asked. “Yes, of course there’s a reason. He’s a fake. He pretends to be something he’s not and . . .” She stopped, hearing how hollow all of those reasons were.

“It’s not because of those things.” Aurora patted her hand. “I think you know why you don’t like him. It’s because you feel things for him, things you don’t want to feel.”

Ella looked down at the old hands over hers, gnarled by the arthritis that caused her gran so much pain and yet still with a surprising strength to them.

She’s right and you know it.

Of course she was right. It was that pull, that fascination. That . . . attraction. She’d told herself it was fear that had made her watch him during all those family occasions, tracking his movements so she didn’t have to get near him. But it wasn’t fear that made her heart rate go through the roof and her skin prickle all over. Made her tongue-tied whenever he spoke to her.

It wasn’t fear and she knew it.

“I don’t want to feel anything for him,” she said, because she didn’t. Managing her life right now was hard enough, let alone having to do deal with him as well. “I want everything to go back to the way it was. Where I could get my money without having to justify it and go to Paris and . . .” She trailed off yet again. “God, I sound like a baby, don’t I?”

“Only a little.” Aurora patted her again. “You haven’t felt this for a man before, have you?”

Ella’s cheeks heated. “No.”

Her grandmother gave a solemn nod. “Well, I can’t lie, sweetheart. It’s scary stuff the first time around. And I’m not surprised you’re finding it difficult. It’s not the easiest situation to be in, him being your guardian and all.”

“What should I do? I mean, he’s going to ask me out again, I know it.”

Aurora pursed her lips, her dark eyes sharp. “Do you want to go out with him again?”

“He’ll force me to. I mean if I refuse, he’ll make me—”

“That’s not what I asked,” her grandmother interrupted. “Do you want to go out with him?”

And Ella found she had to look away because the answer that sprang immediately into her head was yes.

“Don’t give him all the power, Ella,” Aurora murmured. “Don’t forget that you have something he wants. You can make your own bargains, hmmm?”

That was true, she could. Like she had with the kiss, just before she’d walked out. The memory of his fingers brushing against the front of her sweater, against the denim of her jeans, moved through her, and she could feel the heat rise in her cheeks all over again.

“Gran?” she asked, as another thought occurred to her. “Rafael told me I used to follow him around when I was very little. Is that true?”

“Did you?” Aurora frowned. “Maybe you did. Yes, actually, now that I remember, you did take quite a shine to him. It worried your father no end.”

That caught at her. “Oh? Why?”

An expression she couldn’t interpret flickered over Aurora’s face. “I didn’t have as much to do with the de Santis family as your parents did, but I seem to recall Rafael being a very sweet boy. But he was . . . volatile. Moody. His younger brother was the same, except with Rafael it was worse. He used to fly into terrible rages and become completely unmanageable.”

Ella nodded slowly. That gelled with what her parents had told her about him, and the birthday party that had ended with them taking her away, afraid for her safety. “But, he never hurt me, did he? I mean, I don’t remember, but . . .”

“Oh no, he never did.” Aurora took her hands away from Ella’s and leaned back against the pillows. “From what I saw, he was nothing but careful with you. But your parents were worried about you being around him nevertheless.”

Careful with her. He’d been careful with her. A strange feeling twisted inside her, but she didn’t want to examine it right now. “He was sent away, wasn’t he? Dad told me that there was a birthday party and he got angry and made me cry. And they made sure I was never around him after that.”

Aurora sniffed. “Yes, your father told me about it. Rafael lost it about something and tore up a room. Your mother heard you scream and found you sitting on your butt crying hysterically while Rafael was in a rage about something, punching a hole in the wall. She thought he’d hurt you actually.”

Ella stared at her grandmother. “He hadn’t though, had he?” She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. He hadn’t hurt her.

“No.” Aurora snorted. “Your parents were always so ridiculous over your safety. He was just having a tantrum and you were crying because you were only two.” She frowned. “He was sent away after that. To his grandfather’s in Wyoming, I believe.”

Ella let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember following him around and I don’t remember crying at a birthday party. But I wish I did. He’s . . . fixated on me for some reason, Gran. And I don’t know why.”

Aurora gave her a look. “Ask him then.”

“I did. But he didn’t really answer the question.”

Her grandmother smiled and there was an edge of wickedness in it that made her, for a brief second, look again like the beautiful socialite who had once taken New York by storm. “So make him.”

“How?”

The wicked edge faded into tenderness. Lifting a hand, she gave Ella’s cheek a fond pat. “I’m sure you can figure that one out yourself.”