Chapter Fifteen

"On the cabinet, beside you."

Elena, who had hoped he would have to go off and get her a drink from somewhere, looked in dismay at the bottle of champagne and the glasses sitting in readiness. Andrea strolled round the bed and uncorked the bottle. Golden liquid foamed down into a delicate flute. He extended it with reluctance. "You really don’t need liquid anesthesia."

Refusing to look at him and edging away, Elena hugged her knees with one arm while taking a very hearty gulp of champagne.

"I understand that you’re nervous—"

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Elena gritted over the edge of the flute.

"I’ll make it good, bellezza mia,’ Andrea swore softly. ‘In fact I’ll make the experience addictive."

"You couldn’t possibly."

Andrea sank down on the bed with all the panache of a tiger stretching out in the sunshine.

"I think that someone’s been telling you old wives’ tales. It won’t hurt."

Elena flushed to the roots of her hair. "What would you know about it?"

"You may be my first virgin but I ha