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Those dark-as-night eyes could make a man forget any scruples he had. The sweet floral scent radiating off all that bare skin made his mouth water. If the woman was this potent after one evening, how would he survive the rest of the trip?
Dammit. He hated being vulnerable, and Mia was working her way fast and hard under his skin.
“I won’t lie,” he told her. “We do burn the midnight oil quite often. Which is why we need to sleep when we can.”
As they stepped out into the warm night air, Bronson tasted the saltiness of the sea on his lips. He couldn’t help but wonder if Mia would taste the same.
Yachts lined the docks and bobbed gently with the subtle ripples of the Mediterranean. Thousands of twinkling lights glistened off the black water, setting a romantic ambiance seen in movies.
Obviously, a realistic effect.
“This place is amazing.” Mia snuggled closer to him as she looked out over the water. “I could live here and just stare at that gentle rolling tide all day.”
“We have coastline at home, as well.”
She looked back at him and tilted her head. “True, but there’s something romantic and glamorous about Cannes. I love Hollywood, but it’s all so … fake.”
Bronson laughed. “Fake? You’ve never faked anything?”
“No,” she said without hesitation. “What you see is what you get.”
His eyes roamed over her, then landed back on her flawless face. “The exterior is perfect without faking anything. But what about on the inside? You’ve never lied? That’s faking the truth. No?”
Mia looked back to the sea. “We all lie about something at some point, Bronson. It’s human nature not to reveal the truth when a lie can benefit us.”
Bronson stepped in front of her, keeping his hand on her arm. When she turned her gaze to face him, moonlight sparked off those deep, chocolate eyes. If he weren’t careful, he’d fall into them and lose the battle he was fighting with himself.
“What are you faking now, Mia?” he whispered.
A soft breeze from the water lifted a tendril of her hair and sent it dancing. He tucked the strand behind her ear, stroking a finger down the side of her face, down her neck until her breath caught.
“I told you.” She licked her lips, mocking Bronson because he wanted to be the one to lick that salty sea air off her parted mouth. “What you see is what you get.”
“What I get, huh?” he asked with a slight grin.
Bronson slid his hand up her bare arm, cupped the back of her neck and captured her lips beneath his.
Perfect. Absolutely … perfect.
God, he’d been so right in believing her lips would taste amazing. Soft, giving. Mia may be holding a secret, but if it had anything to do with her sexuality, he’d just uncovered it. There was a passion brewing beneath this confident, yet private woman.
She wrapped her fingers around his biceps, whether to push him away or hold on as he continued assaulting her mouth he didn’t know. But he wasn’t going to stop unless she made him because one taste, just one, had him pulling her against him. His hands roamed up that bare back that had mocked him all evening. Damn this dress. He wanted it off her. Now.
With their bodies only separated by his tux shirt and thin layers of chiffon over her breasts, Bronson could feel the effect he had on her.
A snap and flash had him pulling back just in time to see a paparazzo running in the other direction.
Damn.
“Oh, God, did he …”
“Yeah.” Bronson gritted his teeth, taking a step back to put some space between them. “He snapped our picture and now he’s probably running back to whatever rag he works for.”
Mia held a hand over her mouth, eyes wide as she stared back at him. “Oh, Bronson, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry because we kissed or sorry because we got caught?”
She smoothed that dangling strand of hair back. “Is that your way of finding out my feelings about what just happened? I’m not sorry we kissed. Surprised, but not sorry. I am sorry if what just happened ends up in the newspaper and causes more grief for your family in the press, especially with my recent scandal.”
Her concern seemed genuine—but so had her French accent.
Bronson shrugged. “My body blocked your face, so as far as the media’s concerned, you’re a nameless woman.”
But now that he’d had a sample, Bronson wanted the rest of what she had to offer.
Three
Nameless woman.
Mia wished those words from two nights ago still didn’t cut right into her heart, but they did. Is that how Bronson saw her? Was he just kissing her as a prelude to a passing fling? How many women walked away from this Hollywood playboy on weak knees, nursing a broken heart?
God knew hers were still shaking from that toe-curling kiss. But would she just be a statistic when this week was all over? How flattering.
Mia touched up her lip gloss over lips that ached for more of Bronson’s touch and examined herself in the ballroom’s bathroom mirror. The short, deep plum dress with one shoulder bare and the other with a long, flowing sleeve made her feel just as sexy and feminine as the previous dresses.
Night three of the festival was no different than the others … except that she was aching even more for Bronson, and she knew she was every kind of a fool for feeling this way.
She was realistic, though. He may want her physically, but that’s where their relationship ended. That didn’t stop her from daydreaming, and their smoldering kiss certainly hadn’t done a thing to diminish her attraction. Bronson Dane was every woman’s walking fantasy, and her hormones were no different than those of any other female who’d had the fortunate opportunity to be close to the Hollywood powerhouse.
Mia smoothed a hand over her belly, trying to calm her jumbled nerves. Only a few more days and they would be back in Hollywood, and Bronson would be off to meetings about his next movie prospect.
She’d watched him charm actresses and build up actors’ egos, though Mia knew it was just for leverage if he wanted them in a film one day. Hollywood was all about getting everything you wanted, no matter who you had to play to get it. And Bronson played the game like a pro.
But she doubted he needed to do all the charming. Bronson Dane was a force to be reckoned with in the industry. Turning down a chance to work with him would be an idiotic career move for anyone.
Mia smiled at an elderly woman and exited the bathroom. Just as she turned at the end of the hallway, she ran into Anthony Price.
“Mia.” He pulled her into his strong arms for a friendly hug. “I thought I saw you the other night, but discounted the idea. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
She jerked back. “You can’t do that. What if someone had taken a picture?” What if Bronson had seen them?
Anthony glanced around. “Paparazzi aren’t allowed in here, but I do apologize. I was just shocked and happy to see you. Are you here with Olivia?”
Mia smiled at her previous employer. “And Bronson.”
Anthony’s smile dimmed. “Really. Do they—”
“I haven’t said a word, Anthony.” She knew he was nervous about opening a nearly forty-year-old secret and potentially ruining lives—she didn’t blame him. “I told you I wouldn’t reveal the secret and I keep my word.”
“I know you do.” He sighed. “I just haven’t figured out how to handle this. I mean, after all these years, lives will be changed forever. Not only that, but with my situation at home …”
Glancing behind her, Mia offered a smile. “I know. I’m here for you any time you need me. Don’t think because I’m not working for you that I’m not available to talk.”
“I appreciate that, Mia.” Anthony smiled. “I’m still trying to figure out why I let you go.”
“Because your marriage is more important than your assistant,” she reminded him. “You’ll be just fine, Anthony. You both need some time. But I should get back to the party before Bronson starts looking for me or someone sees us. It certainly won’t help your case.”
“You’re right. I can’t afford to lose Charlotte. But it was so good to see you again.”
“Perfect timing.”
Mia jerked around at Bronson’s deep voice. “Bronson.”
“Don’t let me interrupt,” he told her, his gaze on Anthony. “I was wondering if you were okay, but now I see you are.”
Why did she feel like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have? Damn. Could she not talk to a close friend without someone assuming something more sinister was going on?
Mia was smack dab in the middle of two of the most powerful men she knew. The air around them crackled with tension. Now that she could see them both up close, she studied their faces.
Yes, the resemblance was there. Subtle, but it was there.
Ironic that biological half brothers, raised in two separate families, could both grow up to be Hollywood moguls and totally despise each other.
“I didn’t realize Mia was your date,” Anthony told Bronson. “You’re a lucky man.”
Bronson’s gaze narrowed. “Yes.”
Mia couldn’t handle the awkward silence. God, if she was this uncomfortable, she couldn’t imagine how Anthony felt, having known the truth for the past six months.
When Anthony chose to reveal the secret to Olivia, he’d told Mia he would not cause a big scene and make more scandal than necessary. Even though he and Bronson despised each other, Anthony had always expressed his respect and admiration for the Grand Dane and wouldn’t do anything to purposely hurt her. Though he would confront her, eventually. He had a lot of questions for her.
Well, Mia knew one thing. She didn’t want these two together any longer. All they needed to do was have an argument about anything at all and news of it would be sent to every media outlet within moments—complete with pictures that would fuel the press even more.
She moved over to Bronson, placing a hand on his arm. “You ready? I could use some champagne.”
The muscle in Bronson’s jaw ticked. Mia gave a subtle tug on his arm.
“It was great to see you, Anthony,” she said.
“You look beautiful, as always, Mia.” Anthony leaned over and kissed Mia on the cheek. “I’m sure I’ll see you again before the festival is over.”
Mia smiled and, thank God, Bronson led her toward the champagne fountains. Celebrities mingled, sipping drinks, laughing, and all Mia could think of was how hard her heart was pounding over being in the middle of Bronson and Anthony. Mercy, they were something remarkable to look at, but she certainly wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of either of their angry stares.
As long as she just focused on her job and let Anthony handle everything, she had nothing to worry about. Yes, she wanted to help blend these two broken siblings, but that was not her place. Because she knew—God did she know—how much damage could be done by letting a life-altering secret slip.
Mia stopped at the champagne fountain and turned to Bronson. “Relax.”
His piercing blue gaze landed on her. “I’m relaxed.”
“You were until you saw Anthony. Now you’re shooting daggers.”
“It’s no secret that we don’t get along,” Bronson told her. He took a delicate flute and filled it with champagne. “Besides, I thought you two were finished. Or don’t you care who sees you?”
“I worked for him. We’re friends. That’s the extent of our relationship.” Mia took the drink he offered.
“You two looked cozy when I found you.” Bronson lifted a brow, tilting his head. “And the media says otherwise.”
Mia didn’t even pretend not to know what he was talking about. Her eyes narrowed. “You should know you can’t believe everything the Hollywood tabloids print. Why do you care anyway?”
Bronson shrugged, eyes roaming over the crowd. “None of my concern what you did with your ex-employer as long as it doesn’t trickle over into my family.”
His close-to-the-truth words nearly had her choking on her champagne. Mia quickly composed herself as his eyes came back to settle on her.
“Nothing gets in the way of my job,” she assured him. “I’m thrilled to be working for your mother.”
His silence combined with his intense stare left her unsettled.
“There’s something more, isn’t there?” she asked. There had to be. Anger radiated off Bronson. “You look ready to—”
“Leave it alone, Mia.”
His firm tone left no doubt he wasn’t happy with her observation. There was something deeper than just not getting along on set, but Bronson was private and there’s no way he would tell Mia … nor was it any of her business. Yet she couldn’t help her curiosity.
“Why did my talking to Anthony get you so riled up?”
“No concern of yours.” Bronson closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and settled them on her. “Just had a flashback of another time. Another place.”
Another woman. The words hung in the air, just the same as if he’d said them. Jealousy from Bronson Dane was certainly not something she expected, but she had a strong feeling past and present were getting jumbled together.
“It’s getting late,” he told her. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
Mia handed her glass off to a passing waiter. “Of course.”
Something had transpired between those two men, and more than likely no one knew about it but them. She certainly hadn’t heard anything while working with Anthony … at least nothing out of the ordinary.
If Bronson was this angry now, she could only imagine how furious he would be once he found out Anthony was his older brother.
Bronson didn’t know what he wanted more—to know what secret Mia and Anthony had been discussing or whether or not they’d been involved.
No. That was wrong. What he wanted most right now was Mia. Naked. Whatever had happened between her and Anthony in the past was irrelevant to what he wanted now. He refused to relive any part of the last relationship he’d had with a woman he’d trusted. Trusted her so much he’d been ready to spend his life with her and their child.
Their child. That turned out to be another lie.
Bronson rid his mind of that painful time and concentrated on something he understood. Lust. Good old-fashioned lust. He wanted the sexy, sultry Italian woman who’d taunted him with her radiant beauty, her teasing jasmine scent and the power she held over him.
Ushering Mia off the elevator, Bronson snaked his arm around her waist, guiding her toward her suite at the end of the wide hall.
Silence had accompanied them from the party, though the sexual tension had been apparent between them on the ride up. Now there was just one thing on his mind.
