Page 21 of Untamed Billionaire's Innocent Bride
But then, to his eternal delight, she went pink and he couldn’t seem to keep from wondering about all the other, more exciting ways he could make her flush like that.
“Certainly not.” Her voice was frigid, but he’d tasted her. He knew the ice she tried to hide behind was a lie. “I told you, I admire him. I enjoy the work we do together. I have never kissed—”
She cut herself off, then pulled herself up straight. It only made Dominik wonder what she might have said if she hadn’t stopped herself. “You and I have far more serious things to talk about than kissing experiments, Mr. James.”
“I have always found kissing very serious business indeed. Would you like me to demonstrate?”
That pink flush deepened and he wanted to know where it went. If it changed as it lowered to her breasts, and what color her nipples were. If it made it to her hips, her thighs. And all that sweetness in between. He wanted to peel off that soft silk blouse she wore and conduct his own experiments, at length.
And the fact that thinking about Lauren Clarke’s naked body was far preferable to him than considering the fact he’d met his brother, more or less, did not escape him. Dominik rarely hid from himself.
But he had no need, and less desire, to tear himself open and seek out the lonely orphan inside.
“Mr. Combe thinks it best that we head to Combe Manor. It is the estate in Yorkshire where his father’s family rose to prominence. He understands you are not a Combe. But he thinks it would cause more comment to bring you directly to any of the San Giacomo holdings in Italy at this point.”
Dominik understood that at this point was the most important part of Lauren’s little speech. That and the way she delivered it, still standing in her own doorway too stiffly, her voice a little too close to nervous. He studied her and watched her grow even more agitated—and then try to hide it.
It was the fact that she wanted to hide her reactions from him that made him happiest of all, he thought.
“I don’t know who you think is paying such close attention to me,” Dominik said after a moment. “No one has noticed that I bear more than a passing resemblance to a member of the San Giacomo family in my entire lifetime so far. I cannot imagine that will change all of a sudden.”
“It will change in an instant should you be found in a San Giacomo residence, looking as you do, as the very ghost of San Giacomos past.”
He inclined his head. Slightly. “I am very good at living my life away from prying eyes, little red. You may have noticed.”
“Those days are over now.” She stood even straighter, and he had the distinct impression she was working herself up to say something else. “You may not feel any sense of urgency, but I can tell you that the clock is ticking. It’s only a matter of time before Alexandrina’s will is leaked, because these things are always leaked. Once it is, the paparazzi will tear apart the earth to find you. We need to be prepared for when that happens.”
“I feel more than prepared already. In the sense of not caring.”
“There are a number of things it would make more sense for us to do now, before the world gets its teeth into you.”
“How kinky,” he murmured, just to please himself.
And better still, to make her caramel eyes flash with that temper he suspected was the most honest thing about her.
“First, we must make your exterior match the San Giacomo blood that runs in your veins.”
He found his mouth curving. “Are you suggesting a makeover? Have I strayed into a fairy tale, after all?”
“I certainly wouldn’t call it that. A bit of tailoring and a new wardrobe, that’s all. Perhaps a lesson or two in minor comportment issues that might arise. And a haircut, definitely.”
Dominik’s grin was sharp and hot. “Why, Lauren. Be still my heart. Am I the Cinderella in this scenario? I believe that makes you my Princess Charming.”
“There’s no such thing as a Princess Charming.” She sniffed. “And anyway, I believe my role here is really as more of a Fairy Godmother.”
“I do not recall Cinderella and her Fairy Godmother ever being attached at the lips,” he said silkily. “But perhaps your fairy tales are more exciting than mine ever were.”
“I hate fairy tales,” she threw at him. “They’re strange little stories designed to make children meek and biddable and responsible for the things that happen to them when they’re not. And also, we need to get married.”
That sat there between them, loud and not a little mad.
Dominik’s gaze was fused to hers and, sure enough, that flush was deepening. Darkening.
“I beg your pardon.” He lingered over each word, almost as if he really was begging. Not that he had any experience with such things. And there was so much to focus on, but he had to choose. “All this urban commotion must be getting to me.” He made a show of looking all around the empty office, then, because he had never been without a flair for the dramatic when it suited him—and this woman brought it out in him in spades. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“I’m not asking you, personally. I’m telling you that Mr. Combe thinks it’s the best course of action. First, it will stop the inevitable flood of fortune hunters who will come out of the woodwork once they know you exist before they think to start. Second, it will instantly make you seem more approachable and civilized, because the world thinks married men are less dangerous, somehow, than unattached ones. Third, and most important, it needn’t be real in any sense but the boring legalities. And we will divorce as soon as the furor settles.”
Dominik only gazed back at her, still and watchful.