Bought: Destitute Yet Defiant (9 page)

Gripped by a raw, primitive hunger, Silvio was forced to confront an inescapable truth—that if it hadn’t been for the presence of guests, he would have taken her there and then, against the rail of his yacht, without even bothering to remove the fiery red dress.

Shaken up by the knowledge that he was out of control for the first time in his life, Silvio took an instinctive step backwards, not trusting himself not to embarrass them both.

What was he playing at?

Fortunately for him an important guest chose that moment to arrive at the foot of the gangplank, and Silvio seized on the opportunity to give himself some much-needed space.

‘I’ll leave the two of you to get better acquainted,’ he said smoothly, extracting himself with almost indecent haste. ‘I’ll see you later, Jessie.’

He’d left her
.

Jessie stood frozen to the spot, scarlet with mortification at his public rejection. Her stomach churning, she stared after his retreating shoulders in disbelief. He hadn’t cared whether she was in or out of her comfort zone. He’d just walked away and left her, surrounded by people she didn’t know in an atmosphere that was alien to her.

Was she really that embarrassing? He’d stared at every inch of her so it was hard to know which bit she’d got wrong.

She’d tried her hardest to fit in and he’d given her no help at all. Right now she couldn’t have felt more out of her depth if he’d thrown her in the water without a life belt.

What was she supposed to do next?

Jessie tried to control her breathing. Her heart was racing, her palms were clammy and she felt the humiliating sting of tears in her eyes. Deciding that holding a drink would at least give her something to do with her hands, she followed the example of the woman next to her and helped herself to a glass of champagne. Were you supposed to hold the stem or the glass? Convinced that everyone was staring at her, she took several mouthfuls and almost choked as the bubbles stung her throat and shot up her nose.

Oh, God, she couldn’t even drink champagne without making a fool of herself. And she should have known better than to touch alcohol. One glass made her talk too much and two sent her to sleep. Either of those scenarios would prove embarrassing and it was obvious that Silvio was already embarrassed enough.

Why?

Was it the dress? She’d tried on what felt like a hundred different dresses before deciding on the red one and she’d been sure that she looked good. So sure, that she’d left her room in a state of excitement, confident that she was suitably dressed for the occasion.

All right, so she’d never actually been on a super-yacht before—or any yacht, for that matter—but the dress was gorgeous and the moment she’d put it on, she’d felt incredible. So incredible that she’d almost danced onto the upper deck, just dying for him to see her—longing to see his reaction.

Only his reaction had been unexpected.

Remembering the expression on his face, the last of Jessie’s confidence drained out of her. Given that he was now standing on the other side of the boat, as far away from her as possible, it was fair to assume that the dress was a mistake. Or maybe it was her hair. Or maybe it was the kiss…

He’d actually backed away from her.

And yet this whole thing had been his idea, hadn’t it?
He
was the one who had laid down the rules.

Watching the bubbles rise in the champagne flute, Jessie felt a flicker of anger spark under the embarrassment. If he was changing the rules then he could at least have told her.

How could he do this to her?

How were they supposed to convince people that they were together when he was treating her as if she was carrying a contagious disease? Jessie peeped casually through the growing crowd of beautiful people and saw that he had his back to her.

‘If you’re going to get that upset if he ignores you then you’re with the wrong man,’ her companion said in a bored tone. ‘Silvio is notorious for treating women badly, not that it makes any difference—we still come back for more, don’t we? He’s so damn handsome, it shouldn’t be allowed.’

Did he treat women badly? Jessie suddenly realised that she knew very little about that side of his life except that he was ‘choosy’. ‘Did you—? Were the two of you—?’ She almost choked on the words. ‘I mean—’

‘Were we lovers?’ The woman sipped her champagne, her gaze fastened on Silvio’s broad back with almost predatory focus. ‘No, not yet. Let’s just say it’s a work in progress as far as I’m concerned. Me and most of the female population.’

Jessie felt slightly sick. ‘If he treats women so badly, I’m surprised you want him,’ she said flatly. ‘There are plenty of other guys on this yacht—civilised guys who wouldn’t treat you badly. Why don’t you pick one of those instead?’

‘I don’t want a nice, civilised guy.’ The woman slid a manicured finger around the rim of her glass. ‘I want a real man. That’s why we women often have affairs with builders and workmen with rough accents and bulging muscles. The irresistible thing about sexy Silvio, apart from the fact he’s shockingly handsome and apparently knows exactly how to satisfy a woman in bed, is that he manages to be both rough and tough and a billionaire at the same time.’ She sighed wistfully. ‘He’s a unique package.’

It took Jessie a moment to throw off the disturbing image of a naked Silvio satisfying a beautiful woman in his bed. ‘His scar doesn’t bother you?’

The woman smiled. ‘Let me put this another way. If I’m burgled tonight, I don’t want the man I’m with to be locking himself in the panic room until the police arrive. I want a man who is going to protect me.’

Her thoughts full of a dark alleyway and six men in full retreat, Jessie swallowed. ‘And you think that’s Silvio?’

‘Oh, yes….’ Her companion took another sip of champagne, but her gaze didn’t move from Silvio’s back. ‘I admit that the thought of all that hard muscle in bed with me is too
much to resist. Sorry. But you know what they say. All’s fair in love and war.’ She lifted her empty glass in a mock gesture of apology and Jessie knew her cheeks were burning.

This woman clearly didn’t think she was capable of keeping a man like Silvio and the fact that she was so blatant about it was incredibly upsetting.

Unable to think of a suitable put-down, Jessie stood in frosty silence, wondering how long she was expected to stand there and be humiliated.

The woman helped herself to another glass of champagne from the tray. ‘This is absolutely my last glass. Don’t let me drink another because the paparazzi have lenses trained on this boat. I have to ask you something—who did your boob job? Did Silvio pay for it?’

‘This is my natural shape,’ Jessie said through gritted teeth, and the woman smiled.

‘Oh, yes, of course it is. Well, pass on my compliments to whoever created your “natural shape”. Good luck with Silvio. Enjoy his attention while it lasts.’ Without giving Jessie a chance to reply, she strolled off towards a group of women who were laughing close by.

Left standing on her own, Jessie thought she’d never felt more conspicuous in her life. It was better to be part of an uncomfortable conversation than no conversation at all. Aware that everyone was casting curious glances in her direction, she took another mouthful of champagne, more for something to do than anything else. What she really wanted was a large glass of water, but she didn’t dare ask—she could see the poor staff were rushed off their feet tending to everyone’s whims.

Even though she was standing in a crowd, Jessie felt more isolated and alone than she’d ever felt in her life before.

She didn’t fit in here
.

Shrinking inside, she felt as though she was on public
display, an item of mockery. Small, insignificant and somehow less than these people. When she noticed two women staring at her openly, it was the final straw.

Weaving her way through the glittering, expensively dressed guests, Jessie kept her eyes forwards and walked casually down the steps that led from the upper deck to the sumptuous main deck with its luxurious sofas and glass windows. Ignoring the people gathered there, she just kept on walking, taking another flight of steps that led down to the galley.

Hearing the clatter of pans and the nonstop hum of normal conversation, she gave a sigh of relief and pushed open the door. It was equipped like the kitchens in professional restaurants, the staff clearly prepared to produce anything from a snack to a feast.

The conversation stopped and all the uniformed staff stared at her.

Jessie’s friendly smile faltered. ‘I—wondered if I could have a glass of water,’ she said hesitantly, and a girl with bleached blonde hair hurried to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of mineral water.

‘Tap water is fine,’ Jessie muttered, but the girl poured the water into a glass and handed it to her.

‘You could have asked any of the staff above deck, madam,’ the head chef said respectfully, and Jessie blushed, realising that she’d committed another faux pas by walking into the galley.

She didn’t fit here either.

‘They were busy. I didn’t want to bother them. And, anyway, no one up there drinks water. I wasn’t even sure you’d have any.’ She drank the water. ‘And please don’t call me madam. My name is Jessie.’

‘I’m Stacey.’ The young girl who had handed her the water
gave her a friendly grin. ‘That’s a gorgeous dress. Really wicked colour.’

‘Do you think so?’ Jessie glanced down at herself with a doubtful smile, wishing it had had a similar effect on Silvio.

‘It’s stunning. I wish I could—’

‘Stacey!’ The chef’s sharp tone silenced the girl and Jessie glanced between them anxiously.

‘Look.’ She shrugged awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have just barged in like this, but—you’re obviously really busy down here. I wondered if I could do anything to help.’

The chef stared at her in stunned silence.

When he didn’t answer, Jessie swallowed and gave a faltering smile. ‘Obviously not. It doesn’t matter, it was only a thought…’ She wanted to beg them to let her stay down here with them, but pride wouldn’t let her.

‘You could wash those champagne glasses,’ Stacey blurted out, sending a nervous glance towards the chef. ‘Freddie just dropped a whole boxful so we’re short.’

The chef looked as though he was about to pass out. ‘Stacey—’

‘Well, she did ask,’ the girl said defensively, and Jessie immediately grabbed an apron from the hook behind the door and tied it round her waist.

‘I’d love to wash them.’ Without giving the chef time to argue, Jessie hurried over to the sink.

‘Madam—’

‘It’s Jessie.’ She started plunging champagne glasses into the hot, sudsy water, the familiarity of the task soothing her. Curves of red lipstick mocked her from the rims of the glasses and she wondered which beautiful woman Silvio was raising a glass with at that moment.

A few minutes later she became aware that the hum of conversation was increasing and soon the kitchen was back to the
noisy, bustling workplace it had been a few minutes earlier. Shouts, orders from the chef, and the air filled with the tantalising smell of hot canapés being pulled from the oven. It was a busy working galley with hungry mouths to feed.

After a while, everyone ceased to notice her and the knowledge that none of the other guests were likely to venture down here helped her relax. Jessie continued to wash glasses, listening to the conversation around her even though she was too shy to contribute. As soon as she finished washing one lot of glasses, another set arrived. Gradually she felt the knot of tension in her stomach ease. The ache in her shoulders abated, the sick feeling in her stomach lessened and her heart rate was almost normal.

It was only when a deathly hush fell over the kitchen that she bothered lifting her head to look.

Silvio stood there, a look of stunned incredulity on his handsome face.

He really was the most gorgeous guy she’d ever seen, Jessie thought weakly, feeling the strength ooze out of her limbs.

Even dressed in a dinner jacket, there was a hard, dangerous edge to him that set him apart from others. On the upper deck she’d spotted no end of good-looking men, but none of them had come close to challenging Silvio for sheer masculine impact. His dark hair gleamed under the harsh lights of the kitchen and his broad, powerful shoulders almost filled the doorway.

‘Jessie—?’ He seemed to struggle to speak, and Jessie withdrew her hands from the soapy water and stared back at him defiantly, determined to ignore the stab of awareness low in her pelvis, in no hurry to forgive him for leaving her to cope alone among his high-profile guests.

Then she saw the perspiration on the chef’s forehead—
perspiration that had nothing to do with the heat of the
kitchen
—and decided that it wasn’t fair to pull innocent bystanders into the confrontation that was looming.

Taking her time, she dried her hands and removed the apron. ‘I’ve finished the glasses for now. When the next lot comes, just pile them on the side and I’ll do them in a minute. Thanks, guys.’ Smiling at a white-faced Stacey, Jessie strolled over to the door and stared up at Silvio. ‘Have you run out of something up there? Do you need more champagne? Canapés?’

He didn’t respond, the gleam in his eyes a warning of his dangerous mood. She sensed he was having trouble controlling his anger, and Jessie wondered why he was angry when
she
was the one who had been cast adrift in a crowd of glittering, intimidating strangers.

‘Come with me,’ he ordered, and something about his silky-smooth tone made her shiver.

Was she supposed to just follow like an obedient dog?

Tempted to turn back to the washing-up, Jessie looked at the rigid set of his shoulders as he walked out of the door and realised that if she didn’t follow him then he’d probably come back and drag her. And she’d had enough public humiliation for one evening.

Glaring at his back, she muttered an apology to the chef and followed Silvio into the stateroom where she’d changed earlier. She closed the door behind her but kept her fingers on the handle.
Ready to escape
. ‘What’s the matter? Did one of your important guests not show up?’