by Tara Pammi
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll accompany me to Milan.”
She shook her head, trying to swim through the emotions barreling through her. Fear and hope knotted painfully in her stomach. “I can’t leave the country. I have...responsibilities.”
“You should have thought of them before you decided to embrace the criminal life. Until I get to the bottom of this, until I decide what to do with you, you’ll be my...guest. If you give me your passport, I’ll arrange for travel immediately. I can’t let you out of my sight and I do not like the idea of—”
“That’s kidnapping!” Nat broke through his casual planning. “You’re kidnapping me.”
He didn’t even blink. “The alternative is jail, Ms. Crosetto. There’s too much at stake to magnanimously forgive you.” He turned to his tablet, as if the topic was done. “Pack your things. We leave as soon as possible.”
“I can’t just... I have to tell someone that I’m leaving the country.”
“A boyfriend? Perhaps the man who put you up to this?”
“No one did,” she repeated, biting away Vincenzo’s name at the last second.
This man was dangerous, in more than one way.
More than panic shimmied through her veins as his gaze touched her face. “My job, my... I don’t even know who you are. What if you were a serial killer? A human trafficker? A harvester of organs who’s salivating at the thought of getting his hands on my body?”
His hands on her body... What was wrong with her?
This time, there was no doubting the twinkle in his eyes. Or the languid heat flaring beneath.
Nat stepped back at the mere thought of what that meant. The last thing she needed was an...attraction between them. She knew squat about men. And less than squat about ambitious, ruthless, gorgeous men like her accuser. “Criminals, Ms. Crosetto, dead or alive, however diabolically clever—” his gaze raked her from top to toe and dismissed her in the same breath “—are not my type.” He couldn’t sound more upper class, refined and sophisticated, if he tried.
Everything she wasn’t.
“But since I do not want a hysterical female on my hands on a long transatlantic flight, I’ll tell you.” He looked around her tiny living room, frowned and then settled those broad shoulders onto the wall behind him. The action pushed his hips and thighs away from the wall, highlighting the lean masculinity of the man. Every gesture, every movement of his, called all her senses to attention.
“I’m Massimo Brunetti, the cyber security genius you took on with such ease. And since I won’t let you near an electronic device in the near future, I’ll also give you the Google version, sì?
“I founded Brunetti Cyber Securities a decade ago when I was nineteen. I’m also the CTO for Brunetti Finances, an international finance giant. My brother, Leonardo, is the CEO. That’s the one who wants you behind bars pronto.
“Our family, if you hadn’t realized already, is old power and wealth, the kind of European dynasty others try to emulate unsuccessfully,” he added, with nothing of the pride that was in his tone when he spoke of his security company. “So, yes, far more than your average pretty, rich boy who likes to have his way. Proceed with caution, sì?
“Also, I’ll allow you one single call and you’ll make it in front of me.”
CHAPTER THREE
LACK OF SLEEP made Nat grit her eyes as dawn painted the New York sky beautiful shades of pink and orange. Unlike the light pollution that dimmed its shine in the city, the sky here in the country that she’d been driven into at three a.m. in a tinted limo, her sad little bag in hand, was gorgeous. The private airstrip was a hubbub of activity.
Massimo Brunetti...that name and all the power, wealth and reach that came with it had kept Natalie up all night.
She had Googled him the moment Vincenzo had mentioned BCS to her. Him and his CEO brother, Leonardo Brunetti. If Massimo was the brains behind Brunetti Finances, Leonardo was the heart. Cut in the same cloth as Massimo, ruthless when wielding his power, but much more socially active among the glitterati of Milan. The face of their business, the man who flashed his teeth at his enemies, brought in investors, managed the funds, while Massimo built brilliant software that brought in billions of revenue.
“Powerful men make powerful friends or enemies,” Vincenzo had said, when she’d asked if he knew them. “A small favor,” he’d called it. Easy for her incisive mind.
“Can you bring down BCS’s security, Natalie?”
When she had argued that she couldn’t risk anything criminal, she could never go down that path again, he had clasped her hand.
“I’d let nothing happen to you, cara mia. Find a flaw, bring it down. Nothing more. I’ll not ask you to retrieve anything you discover, if you do crack it. Nothing to steal. Just find a weakness in the system.”
“Then why?”—the only question she’d even thought to ask.
“Let’s just say I have my eyes on the man who built it. I need to know if he’s as good as they say. Not a single hacker I’ve hired so far has been able to get through.”
And that had been his lure and she’d more than happily taken the bait.
She could’ve refused. He hadn’t insisted on it. He hadn’t called it as a return on all the favors he’d done for her and Frankie. He hadn’t once, in the ten years since they’d met, mentioned how he’d saved her from a bullying foster parent, or from a wretched future in the juvie system. He hadn’t mentioned not turning in Nat herself when he’d caught her stealing his wallet the first time they had met.
And yet, she’d done it.
Now she wondered at the questions she should’ve asked then.
What did Vincenzo have against Massimo?
Why this particular man?
Why his company?
Why had Vincenzo targeted the brainchild of tech genius Massimo Brunetti?
Instead, she’d thrown caution to the wind, given in to her one weakness and risked everything.
She hadn’t even been able to reach Frankie during the one call Massimo had allowed her. While he’d watched her like a hawk circling a carcass, Natalie had left a message that she was going out of the country for a friend’s sudden wedding, freeloading on the chance. That she would be out of coverage for a while but would call when she could. Her brother knew what a cheapskate she was.
“You’re quite the storyteller, Ms. Crosetto,” Massimo had said in his delicious Italian accent, all sleep mussed before he’d rushed her out of her apartment in the middle of the night, to collect their documents.
Nat pressed her fingers around the coffee cup in her hand—no rest-stop diesel-like coffee for Mr. Pretty Rich Boy. The dark roast felt like heaven on her tongue, anchoring her.
Her spine straightened against the limo as she heard Massimo step out on the other side. His security detail—one broad six-and-half-footer—and his two assistants: a thin man in his twenties with thick glasses and messed-up curly hair. What she’d expected the computer genius to look like—not the sleek, lean, sex-on-legs stud that was Massimo, shame on her prejudice... And the second one—a woman with a dark complexion, in her forties—followed him while he spoke into his cell phone.
Coffee forgotten, Nat watched him with wide eyes as he walked back and forth in front of her speaking in rapid Italian that she couldn’t understand a word of. After every other sentence, he paused, looked at her, and then started again.
Suit jacket gone, three buttons of the white dress shirt undone, that stylishly cut hair all rumpled up from his stint on her couch, he should’ve looked disheveled. At least a little tired. After all, he’d traveled across the Atlantic the previous day.
Instead, the stubble that coated his jaw and his upper lip, the V of his shirt glinting olive against the white of it, the snug fit of his trousers against lean hips—he was an erotic fantasy given form. The assault on h
er senses that had begun when she’d found him on her couch, trousers pulled up tight against powerful thighs, shirt equally snug against his shoulders, long lashes fanning against his sharp cheekbones... Her heart hadn’t still recovered from it.
And then while she’d stared at him like an enthralled idiot, he’d opened those gray eyes. For just a second, there had been something in his eyes. Something that made liquid desire float through her veins. Before he sat up with his ubiquitous cell phone attached to his ear.
“The jet is ready. Let’s go.”
That was all he’d said to her, before bundling her into the limo. Coffee had been acquired on the way.
When she’d refused, he’d frowned. “Drink up, Ms. Crosetto. I need you awake and alert.”
She’d tensed so hard her shoulders hurt. “Why?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you to breach the security of another company.”
She’d immediately relaxed and then cursed herself when a shrewd light dawned in his eyes. Afraid he’d see even more, more than what she’d already betrayed, she’d looked away.
“I want to know exactly how you were able to create that tunnel through the firewall. Both the first and the second time. Each and every step. I want to also know of any other ways you can breach BCS’s security. All the truth, Ms. Crosetto. Not just the convenient parts.
“If I even get a sniff of duplicity from you, you’ll wish I had sent you to prison in your own country.”
Even the wonderful aroma of coffee had felt like poison then.
The threat still ringing in her ears, she swallowed when he beckoned her from the foot of the air stairs. The arrogance of the man scraped her raw. She’d survived the cruelty and negligence of a foster care system that was supposed to protect her, the heartbreak of knowing that she wasn’t good enough, just yet, to be her younger brother’s family.
No way was she going to let Massimo Brunetti control her with the threat of incarceration. No man was going to make her live in fear every day, not after everything she’d been through. Not this easily.
And just like that, an idea began to percolate in her mind. Her shoulders straight, she tilted her chin and walked toward him with confidence.
The narrowing of his eyes made her smile.
Yep, she’d do what he asked of her, but she’d do it on her terms.
* * *
“Call the cops if you’d like. But I’m not getting on that plane. Not until you hear me out.”
Massimo disconnected his call with Leo, Natalie’s husky voice filled with determination sliding over his skin like a sensuous whisper. That same voice whispering at his ear, after a night spent in bed together, limbs heavy around each other, those dark brown eyes languid with sated desire... His imagination fired up the picture faster than he could breathe.
Dios mio, of all the women to spur this insta-lust in him...she was the worst choice.
He wanted to blame the last six months of his self-imposed celibacy for it. But then, after the fiasco with Gisela, he’d been a little bit disgusted with himself. He should’ve known better than to play with a spoiled princess.
He’d been more than a little tired of playing the same old game of chasing a woman just for sex. He had nothing more to give right now. Not at this point in his life.
And now Leonardo had informed him that Greta had been pulled into the whole mess with Gisela. His nonni had decided that Gisela would make a suitable bride for the scion of the Brunetti dynasty, that she was rich enough, sophisticated enough and blue-blooded enough to spawn the next generation of Brunettis.
Which was happening...never. But it did mean handling Gisela and, now, his nonni without giving offense to the former and hurting the second.
Of all the messes...
“Mr. Brunetti? Did you hear me? I’m not—”
He turned slowly, bracing himself. Still, the up-tilted chin and the wide brown eyes packed a punch.
This morning, she’d dressed in a light green-and-black sweater dress that hugged her slender frame, pointing out curves he’d missed last night. The loose neckline kept sliding off her shoulder showing glimpses of silky skin that beckoned his touch.
The dress ended beneath her buttocks—he’d seen enough when she’d walked ahead of him toward the limo, the knee-high leather boots displaying long legs that went on for miles. The mass of her black curls was pulled away into a tight knot at the top of her head, but in no way contained. Thick stray curls kept framing her face and she blew at them. A nervous tell that had made him smile in the limo. High forehead and a sharp nose only emphasized her gaunt face.
He frowned at the increasing appeal she held for him.
She wasn’t the lush, curvaceous beauty he usually went after. Neither was she, he was sure, the experienced type he preferred, the way she’d jumped every time he came near. Women who owned their sexual desires usually meant uncomplicated but pleasurable affairs.
Delicate collarbones jutting out, the only lush thing about her was that mouth. Collagen had nothing on those luscious lips.
She had that million-dollar look that runway models seemed to have. A fragility that, despite her very clever mind, roused a protectiveness in his chest. The last thing she deserved, given the daggers she shot at him. He’d expected her to try to change his mind this morning, sì, but not with that brash confidence she exuded just then.
“Come, Ms. Crosetto.” He gestured her back toward the limo, taking her wrist in his hand. She was truly delicate in his fingers, and they tightened instinctively. He guided her into the waiting limo and shut the door behind him. Even with the luxurious space, their knees bumped before she tucked them away.
Good, at least one of them needed to be wary of this attraction between them. “You seem to think you have a choice in this situation. My patience runs thin especially as my nonni is cooking up a scheme I abhor on the other side of the ocean.”
“Your nonni?”
“My grandmother.”
“I’ll make this quick.” She swallowed and looked up. “I’m calling your bluff.”
He smiled. “You don’t have any cards.”
She leaned back against the seat, and crossed her legs. Her dress pulled up toward her thighs and he peeked at long, taut muscles. Shamelessly. “I’ll not surrender my freedom to a stranger, a stranger moreover with the power and reach that you have, not only in your country but here, to arrange my visa at such short notice, without some security in place. God knows what you’ll do to me when—” whatever she saw in his eyes, color darkened her cheeks and she cleared her throat “—what you’ll decide for my fate. Even in the worst situations, one always has a choice.”
She roused his curiosity so easily and held it. Turned his expectations upside down. So frequently. Unlike any woman he’d ever known. “Why do you think I’ll accept any condition of yours?”
“Because you and I are alike. Hungry for new challenges. So full of arrogant belief that we’re the best there is. I knew what I was risking when I attacked your security the second time. I knew...and I still couldn’t stop. And you...you want to know how I did it. More than you want me in jail. You want to know what other weaknesses there could be in your design. You hate knowing someone better than you exists.”
“You’re not better than me.” He hated that he sounded like a juvenile teenager trying to get one over the smart girl.
She smiled and grooves dug into her cheeks. Her front two teeth were overlapped, a small imperfection that only made her face more distinct, more memorable. More lovely even. Challenge and knowledge simmered in that smile, tugging at his awareness. “Sending me to jail right now doesn’t serve your purpose. I’d rot there for who knows how long while what I was capable of doing eats away at you. So I’ll let you kidnap me, yes, but at a price.”
Laughter punched out of his mouth. Cristo, she had guts. And smarts. An
d a tart mouth he desperately wanted to taste right then. Humor and arousal were an unusual combination but had a languorous effect on his limbs. He ran a hand over his bristly jaw, trying to find the rationality, the reason, beneath both.
If he had any sense, he’d dump her at the nearest police station and wash his hands off.
It was what Leonardo was expecting. What the sane part of him said to do.
But he hadn’t arrived at his place in this world without taking risks. By denying his instincts. Forget also the fact that if she went to jail, all her secrets went with her.
He didn’t believe for a second that she’d only done it for the challenge. Either it was an impersonal job she took on for money, or someone she knew was deliberately targeting them.
Leonardo and he had worked too hard, for too long, to let some unknown enemy destroy everything they’d built. For now, he’d play along. Plus he’d be no kind of businessman if he didn’t use her talents to his benefit. At least in the short term. He’d just have to convince Leo of her usefulness to them.
“Bene,” he said.
In the intimacy of the leather interior, her soft gasp pinged on his nerves. Her eyes wide, she stared at him, swallowed, looked away and then back at him again. Her knuckles white against the dark leather.
Cristo, the woman blushed even when she was cornered.
He couldn’t help liking the little criminal. He knew what it was to be the weaker one against a stronger, terrifying opponent, to have no way out, the powerlessness that came with it. “State your condition.”
“You’ll pay me for any services I render, like an outside consultant.”
He raised a brow. “You’re not bargaining for me to destroy the proof of your crime?”
She shook her head. And he had a feeling it was to hide her expression. “You won’t give that up. This way, if I end up in jail, I’ll make money to show for it. During the stint, I’ll work on proving to you that I have no agenda of my own.”
“Making money for hacking my system and then more for fixing it? I was right about you.”