HELEN BROOKS - Out of Hours...Cinderella Secretary - The Italian Billionaire's Secretary Mistress / The Secretary's Scandalous Secret / The Boss's Inexperienced Secretary

Angie’s eyes narrowed with comprehension as she realised what Floriana had just told and its possible implications for the future. Was purity an essential factor in this marriage? Remembering what Riccardo had said about his own desire to marry a virgin, she supposed it was.

‘Are you afraid to go through with the wedding because you think that your sexual experience will disappoint your husband—is that it, Floriana? Because I’m sure if you explained—’

‘No.’ Floriana’s stark word interrupted her. ‘That is not the reason why. The reason is much more simple that that, Angie—you see…’ She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ‘I simply do not love him—not the way a woman should love the man she is about to marry.’

For a moment Angie said nothing—because what could she say? And yet—did the words come as a great surprise to her? No, of course not. You would need to be blind not to have noticed the lack of chemistry between the engaged couple. Gently, she placed her hand on the girl’s arm. ‘Then you must have the courage to tell him that,’ she whispered. ‘You must.’

Leaving Floriana sitting on the bed, Angie somehow managed to find her way back to her own bedroom without having to return to the party. Stripping off the red gown, she washed off all her make-up before climbing into bed, bone-tired now, the comfort of the soft bed soothing her troubled senses as she lay there worrying about the outcome of Floriana’s revelation.

Should she tell Riccardo? As she lay there in the darkness Floriana’s disconcerting words came flooding back to her. ‘They are so keen for this marriage that I suspect they would march me down the aisle!’

Would he really go that far? Somehow she doubted it. But would Romano?

Her mind buzzed uncomfortably but the long and emotional day had worn her out and she must have dozed off, because when she awoke it was to the sensation of a warm, naked male getting into bed beside her and then a mouth edging luxuriously over her breast.

‘Riccardo?’ she murmured sleepily.

‘Why, were you expecting someone else?’

‘I…oh!’

‘Oh, what, piccola ?’

‘I must…’ Struggling against the blissful sensation of his tongue trailing a warm, sensual path over her bare skin, Angie’s hands moved up to his shoulders. ‘Riccardo—I must talk to you.’

‘Not now.’

‘But—’

‘I said, not now,’ he growled. ‘I have been wanting to do this all night.’

She told herself that there was no point in bringing up a contentious subject when it was past midnight and nothing could possibly be done. That she would tell him in the morning—in the cold clear light of day. But wasn’t some of her reasoning bound up in the fact that he was now kissing her, and she couldn’t prevent herself from sinking into that kiss? So that he became the central focus of her world and in that moment nothing outside it existed?

Dreamily, Angie tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him back as he began to make slow, sweet love to her—the feel of his body deep inside hers washing away everything except pleasure itself. Afterwards their lips stayed touching—locked in a lazy kind of kiss—and with a jolt Riccardo remembered back to earlier, when they were dancing. Thinking just how much he wanted to kiss her. Kiss her? In the darkness, his eyes snapped open. This was getting dangerous. Crazy.

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