The Playboy's Fugitive Bride

The Playboy's Fugitive Bride - Chapter 5

Nia pulled the wool dress from the hanger and slid it over her head. She wrapped the belt around her waist, tied it in the front, and stared at her reflection in the trifold mirror.

It was almost one o'clock, and she hadn't completed one single task on her list.

Since Massimo's international satellite conference was postponed until midafternoon he'd insisted on accompanying her to Joanne's Boutique after they picked up her new Mercedes. To make matters worse, she had that stupid spa appointment at two-thirty.

During breakfast, Massimo had told her that the charity event was to begin at seven, but that he'd arranged for her to meet his cousin, Adam, and friends, Bryce and Erik at the country club for drinks at six. Afterwards, they would drive across town to the Fontaine Conference Center where she would meet Bryce's wife, Kaya, and Erik's wife, Michelle.

That didn't give her much time to take care of her business, keep her spa appointments, go back to the mansion, and get dressed in time to drive to the country club.

Her planning time was getting shorter and shorter, Nia thought with a frustrated twist of her lips. First, from one month to one week, then from two days to one, since she wasn't sure what time Massimo would give her the money tomorrow. From the way things looked, once she left Granite Falls, she'd have to stay in Miami until Tuesday, at least. Since she would be boarding the cruise ship under a different name, she had to get all of Nia Sylk's personal business taken care of before she left the country.

"I have to get to work, Nia."

"You didn't have to come with me, Massimo. I'm quite capable of picking out my own clothes. I've been doing it since I was twelve." The memory of losing her mother at that early age caused her heart to skip a beat.

"I'm sure you are capable, but I know what I want to see on you, pussycat."

Nia opened the door. "Stop calling me pussycat, especially in public." She fought her body's reaction to his mesmeric lure.

"Then stop hissing like one. Besides, we're all alone."

That was true. The man had so much clout he'd requested absolute privacy and ordered the store closed to the public while Nia tried on her new wardrobe.

"Come on, let's see it."

Nia stepped from the seclusion of the dressing stall and into the waiting lounge. "What?" she asked at the scowl on Massimo's face.

"I don't care for it. It makes you look... drab—like a nineteenth-century schoolteacher.

"I am a schoolteacher," Nia quipped, hands on hips. "I like it." Just because you don't. The color was all wrong for her. The puffed shoulders, long sleeves, and turtleneck did make her look drab. One thing she could say about him was that he had a good eye for fashion. She wondered if his women always looked as if they stepped off a Milan runway because he dressed them himself.

She watched, transfixed, as Massimo began stroking his lower lip with the pad of his thumb. It was a seductive habit that made her blood heat up under her skin each time he did it. She felt every stroke, every caress deep in the recess of her being.

"I'll tell you what," he said, walking over to her. "If you agree to take the red silk one you refused earlier, I'll let you keep this ghastly-looking thing."

The red silk one could hardly be called a dress. It was strapless, backless, revealed just a tad too much cleavage for her comfort, and it clung to her like a second skin. She would not be caught dead in that iniquitous garb. "Well, I don't like it that much," she told him.