Deceptive Desires

Happily Ever After Romances reserves all rights granted by the author. No part of this book may be copied or shared without written permission from the publisher. All characters are creations of the author, and resemblances to any real person are coincidental.

Copyright 2011, Lilly LaRue

Chapter One

“It’s quite a circus, isn’t it?” Molly murmured as she joined Aronne on the second floor, where he leaned against the rail, studying the contents of his glass with brooding dark eyes.

He looked up, briefly startled by her presence, before sweeping his gaze over the assemblage on the lower level. “Indeed.” A lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead, and he raked it back impatiently.

“It was exactly what Margot wanted for her engagement party.” She hadn’t meant her tone to sound so bitter.

Aronne arched a brow. “That bothers you?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to it.” What Margot wanted, Margot got.

His eyes narrowed, and she shivered under his scrutiny. “Who are you?”

“Molly. We’ve met a couple of times the past year.” Not that she expected him to remember Margot’s little sister. At twenty-four, Aronne didn’t live at home with the Giannis family, and he’d seldom been part of the meetings between the Powers and Giannis families. Both times he had, there had been a gorgeous woman on his arm. Once, a Brazilian girl almost as tall as his six-two, and the other time, a statuesque redhead.

A rueful look at herself reminded her she wasn’t in the league of those women. Nowhere near. At five-three, thanks to the three-inch heels she wore, no one would ever call her tall or willowy, or compare her to an Amazon. She had soft curves she preferred to the stick-thin figure of her sister and Margot’s friends, but knew he must prefer the supermodel look, judging from his choice of companions.

It was a surprise to see him alone at the party. Of course, she was alone too, to no one’s surprise, but wasn’t foolish enough to think he would suddenly notice Margot’s seventeen-year-old sister.
Eighteen in three weeks
, she thought with a twitch of her lips, as if it would make a difference.

Aronne cocked his head, his gaze touching the top of her head and moving to her feet. Was she imagining the gleam of interest? No doubt it was her imagination run amok. “You’re Margot’s sister, right?” At her nod, he said, “You look a lot like her.”

Molly shrugged, not sure she considered that a compliment. It was true they both had the same caramel-brown shade of hair and hazel eyes, perhaps with a similar bone structure, since both girls resembled their mother, but the likeness ended there. Margot was tall and slender, with an innate grace and keen fashion sense. She knew how to accentuate her beauty with several tricks, including artificially added golden highlights and long acrylic nails, which remained a mystery to Molly. There was a lot to envy about Margot, and she did, though she hated it. She didn’t want to be her older sister. She just wanted to get some of the same attention and consideration her sibling received.

Steering the conversation from Margot, she asked, “What are you doing up here?” When he swirled his glass, she looked down where his hand curved around the cut crystal, noticing it was empty, save for some melting ice.

“I’m contemplating if it’s worth braving the horde for another whiskey.”

Molly bit her lip, hesitating for a second. Telling herself he still wouldn’t notice her, even if they were the last two people alive, she said, “There’s no need. I know where Dad keeps the key to his liquor cabinet in his study.”

After a second, Aronne smiled. “I like the way you think. Lead the way, Molly.”

Warmth suffused her at the sound of her name on his lips. What would it sound like if he said it after they had shared a passionate kiss? Would it be roughened with desire, or would it still be smooth as glass? Deciding she read too many romance novels, she shrugged off the thought and led him up to the third floor.

As they climbed the stairs, she was conscious of his nearness and wondered if he was watching her butt in the tight dress. That seemed likely, since he was a man. What man would look away from a shapely butt wiggling in his face? That wasn’t sexist, since she freely admitted she would look her fill if their positions were reversed.

A moment later, they emerged on the landing, and she took him down the hall to her father’s study. With the panel on the wall, she flipped on the lamps, but left off the overhead light, giving the room a warm glow without being overpowering. “Have a seat,” she invited, waving to the loveseat and couch on one side of the room.

Molly went straight to her dad’s desk, sat in his chair, and felt underneath for the key hanging from a hook. She had never figured out if he was trying to keep her and Margot out of it, or if it was to protect his expensive liquor from the staff. It could go either way, she supposed, but doubted he worried about either of the girls dipping into his alcohol. She knew Margot used to smuggle it out to party with her friends, since she was the one who had told Molly where to find the key.

Next, she went to the armoire and opened it, slipping the key inside the lock. With a twist, a section slid out to reveal several bottles of alcohol. “Whiskey?” she asked.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Do you want ice?”

“Sure.”

Molly opened the small freezer on the shelf above to take out a few ice cubes. Feeling a little daring, she dropped ice into a second glass and splashed whiskey into both glasses. It probably wasn’t the best drink to try, since she’d only ever had champagne or a little wine before, but it was a night to forget caution.

She took the glasses and sat on the couch beside him—not as close as she would have liked, since she didn’t want to freak him out by coming on too strong. It was difficult to gage how strong was too strong, with her limited experience, but figured climbing on his lap and asking for a kiss would be a bit too forward.

Smothering a giggle, she took a sip of the whiskey, managing not to choke or grimace as she swallowed. Definitely not on her top-ten list of favorite drinks, but she could fake a taste for it tonight.

He drained the glass in a couple of swallows. Molly watched him stand up and walk to the liquor cabinet, where he extracted the bottle and brought it back to the table. After he’d topped off his glass, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

A harsh laugh escaped him. “No, everything’s great.”

She didn’t miss the sarcasm, but didn’t pry, since he obviously didn’t want to talk about it. “How long do you think the party will go on?”

Aronne shrugged. “I have no idea. It’s interminable, isn’t it?”

Molly nodded, taking a bigger drink of whiskey, once again fighting the urge to cough. “It’s a regular occurrence around here. Someone’s always throwing a party for something.” She grinned. “I’m hoping we have a few less parties after Molly marries Cristiano and moves out.”

He shifted to reach for the bottle again, before settling against the couch, with his arm over the back. If she scooted an inch closer, his fingers would touch her shoulder. “Do you still live at home?”

She nodded. “I just finished school.”

“What’d you study?”

Molly kept it vague, figuring he had little interest in the curriculum at her all-girls’ high school. “A little of everything.”

“The choices in college can be overwhelming.”

Her eyes widened when she realized he thought she meant she had just finished college. She opened her mouth to correct the assumption, but closed it with a snap. What harm could it do to pretend to be a bit older? “Yes. What did you study?”

“What else? Business administration, with a minor in tourism and hospitality.” He grimaced. “You can’t be the Giannis heir without knowing how to run the corporation.”

She nodded, sensing his underlying bitterness. “What did you want to major in?”

Aronne’s gaze locked with hers, and she thought she saw a hint of admiration. “Perceptive, aren’t you? In truth, I don’t know, but it wasn’t what I ended up taking.”

“Maybe you can go back once you figure it out.”

His harsh laugh made her frown. “You’re a bit naïve, Molly. Once I’m at the helm, I’m stuck there.”

“Cristiano—” She tried to suggest.

He gave her a sardonic look. “Can you imagine Cristiano in a position of authority? He’s a great guy, but responsibility isn’t his strong point.”

Molly wet her lips, searching for a diplomatic answer. Instead, she blurted out, “He’ll be a perfect match for Margot.”

Aronne frowned. “I disagree. They are too young to get engaged, let alone married.”

“She’s nineteen, and he’s twenty.”

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, would you have been ready to get married at nineteen?”

Her palms dampened, and she discreetly pressed them against the sapphire-blue dress. “I never gave it a thought.” That was true. Until this second, it had never occurred to her to wonder if she’d want to get married at nineteen. “Probably not.”

“Exactly. Neither will listen to sense.” He lifted his glass in a mocking salute. “Here’s to their sixty-percent chance of divorce.”

A startled giggle escaped her, and she lifted her own glass, swallowing the contents in one gulp. It burned down her throat, and she coughed just a little, but didn’t protest when he refilled her glass again. She lifted it. “How about toasting to the million-dollar wedding she’s planning?”

“To ridiculous excess,” he agreed. They drank before he replenished their glasses again. “Let’s not forget their luxury villa in Italy my parents plan to give them as a wedding gift.”

She blinked. “I had no idea.”

He shrugged. “It’s a surprise.” The words came out with a little bit of a slur, making her wonder how many he’d had before their impromptu get-together in the study.

“That explains the yacht my aunt and uncle are giving them.” She rolled her eyes. “They can sail to their villa in their new yacht and enjoy a few months of wedded bliss before reality catches up.”

“Reality calls for another toast.” They drank another round.

After her fourth whiskey, she was feeling a bit giddy. “Here’s to the wedding night. Surprise, Cristiano,” she said with a giggle.

His brow wrinkled, and his lip curled. “What do you mean?”

“I think he’s expecting something my sister can’t deliver.” She reached for the bottle and topped off her glass before leaning forward to fill his. Her balance was a little off, and she was grateful for his steadying hand. “Thanks.”

“Is your sister not a virgin?”

Molly snorted. “Hardly. I couldn’t care less, but I know how it matters to your family.”

Aronne shrugged. “As you say, I couldn’t care less, but I agree Papa will be furious if Cristiano ever tells him.”

“Of course. It’s okay for his sons to whore around, but they have to find a virgin to be a suitable bride.” Molly knew the whiskey had loosened her tongue, but couldn’t call back the indiscreet words.

He stared at the contents of his glass, brooding. “It’s an unfair double standard, I agree, but try to understand my parents’ point-of-view. They both grew up in Italy and immigrated here after their marriage, so their traditional values still mean a lot to them.”