Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  He’ll play dirty to protect his assets—but falling for the competition was never the plan.

  International tycoon Drago De Luca has the world at his feet and he knows it. But back home in Italy, his beloved grandmother’s family inn is on the verge of closing down for good, thanks to hotshot American heiress, Chase Huntington, and her new hotel. Drago has to protect Nonna’s inn, even if it means getting close enough to Chase to convince her she needs to leave. But the more time he spends with Chase, the more he’s drawn to her passion, her love of his culture, and the way she looks in those Louis Vuitton heels.

  Chase Huntington would give anything to enjoy her time with charming, sexy-as-hell Drago in the style capital of the world, but she has to make sure the new Huntington hotel opens successfully. How else can she prove she’s not just fashionista with a fortune—she’s an heiress savvy enough to take over the family’s biggest hotel back in California? But somewhere between boutiques and business plans, she falls head over Louboutins for Drago. But when Drago’s true motive for spending so much time with her comes to light, it could destroy everything Chase built and everything she thought she found in Italy.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more category romance titles from Entangled Indulgence… Southern Nights and Secrets

  The Prince’s Bride

  The Bachelor’s Promise

  Billionaire Blackmail

  Also by MK Meredith… Malibu Betrayals

  Malibu Secrets

  Seducing Seven

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by MK Meredith. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Indulgence is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Kate Brauning and Naomi Hughes

  Cover design by Erin Dameron-Hill

  Cover art from iStock

  ISBN 978-1-63375-695-3

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition September 2016

  To my big brothers, Tommy, Todd, and Billy Kauffman.

  I would have never made it without you.

  Our little team was my one constant growing up.

  I’m forever grateful.

  LYMTYLM…NN

  Chapter One

  Chase Huntington smoothed her hands over her Herve Leger bandage dress, taking her time to admire the tasty morsel leaning against a light pole at the end of the cobblestoned block. Perfect. He was exactly what she needed to make this business trip fun: a hot, sex-on-a-stick Italian who looked like he knew how to handle his biscotti.

  He glanced up, interest in his eyes, and she held his gaze as her body acknowledged him in a wash of goose bumps. He was taller than many of the Italian men she’d seen, and her glance ran the length of him to check his shoe size. It couldn’t be helped. And she wasn’t disappointed.

  Her cell buzzed, and she broke away from the visual temptation, swiping the screen and accepting the call. “Hello, Mr. Huntington.”

  Her cheeky tone drew a laugh from her father, making her grin.

  “So far, so good?” he asked.

  “Of course. I’m about to head in. Though, by the way, I still haven’t been able to get ahold of the director.”

  As her father grumbled about reliability and work ethic, a woman brushed past and Chase smiled in apology. The lady dipped her head in return, sophisticated and graceful, just like Ferrara itself. These beautiful people were right up her alley. If she couldn’t be back in Malibu finally starting her life like she wanted, she might as well live it up while she was here. A plan her best friend Addi would pop a cork for, then share the bottle to the last drop for—as a best friend should.

  “Chase, are you listening to me?”

  Pulling in a breath, she directed her attention back to her family’s newest international addition, mere weeks away from celebrating its grand opening as a boutique hotel. “Absolutely,” she told her father. “I’ll contact you as soon as I have news.”

  He paused. “I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here, Coconut.”

  The long-overused nickname left her shaking her head with a smile. “Only everything I want in the world.” She checked the time. “Okay, I need to go. I’ll call you later. And don’t worry.”

  Disconnecting the call to his disbelieving chuckle, she tilted her head back to see all the way to the hotel’s roof. With her hands on her hips and a broad stance, she felt invincible, though the centuries-old building rose above her as if in challenge, showing off its lost-in-time architecture and intricately detailed waterspouts made of stone humanlike faces.

  “I can’t tell if you were checking me out, or the new hotel.” The deep voice and Italian accent slid over her skin like velvet.

  She had to lift her chin to meet his eyes, and her heart hammered in her chest. This trip was definitely looking up, in an over-six-feet-tall, dark-and-handsome kind of way. She grinned. “Oh, I think you know exactly, but clever opening.”

  His wide mouth quirked up. “And here I thought your perusal of my footwear was opening enough. Size twelve, by the way. Quite adequate, if I do say so myself.”

  Heat rushed to her hairline. Size twelve would do just fine. “I’m sure I have no interest in the size of your…shoes.” And she didn’t. As a matter of fact, she’d be completely satisfied to see his shoes discarded, along with his pants—because damn was this guy made to walk around naked. “Are all Italians this concerned with their footwear?”

  He considered her question as if she’d asked about the local political climate. “Only when it appears said footwear may make or break his chances at extending the conversation into dinner.”

  Dinner, breakfast, possibly lunch. She was all about meeting her three-meal-a-day requirements, but he didn’t need to know that. Not quite yet, anyway. She looked over his strong brow, and the breeze ruffled the dark hair at his temple. With a casual glance toward the hotel, she tucked her hands behind her back to keep from seeing how the strands would feel against her fingertips.

  “Well?” He raised a brow playfully.

  Another grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. She liked a man who wasn’t afraid to close the deal. “Lunch, at the very least.” She stepped up on the first stair leading into the hotel. The additional height brought her to eye level with her new friend, and her stomach dipped a bit as if she’d crested the top hill of a roller coaste
r ride. “But I’ve got some work to do first.” She nodded toward the doors. “You know where to find me.”

  Turning back to the stairs, she grabbed the railing and paused to pull in a breath as her already rapidly beating heart kicked into overdrive. This hotel was her one shot, her one opening to prove that she belonged on the Huntington payroll—that she was valuable beyond just having the family name.

  She could do this.

  And the sooner the better.

  The Huntington House, a boutique hotel right in the middle of this beautiful old-world city, would host its first guests in three weeks. And if she could pull off the grand opening without a hitch, it would prove to the board she was the best possible candidate for a director of hotel operations position back in Malibu—a job she wanted so badly she could feel it to her Jimmy Choo-clad toes. The applicants would be interviewed in one month, which meant this grand opening was her only chance to show everyone she actually deserved her dream job. Not because she was the boss’s daughter, but because she was more than capable of kicking ass and taking names when it came to running a hotel.

  She had a little less than a month to prepare. Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Already less than five hundred hours. She could break it down to the minute, but she didn’t have the time.

  So what if she’d been sent to a country she’d never been to before, where she didn’t even speak the language? Thank God they’d at least set up a translator, because her fluency in Japanese and German weren’t going to be any help here. Now was the moment she wished she’d studied Spanish or French. But those were her father’s forte, a small detail her mother had waved off as if insignificant. “We’d send your father, but he’s been so ill. He simply can’t make the trip.”

  So now she had a hotel to launch. She squared her shoulders and brushed her hands against each other. Piece. Of. Cake.

  With one last glance at her sexy Italian with the bedroom eyes and chiseled jaw, she entered her hotel through the large wooden double doors.

  And stepped straight into hell.

  Chase came to an abrupt stop and took in the scene before her. Plush sitting chairs were randomly placed throughout the lobby like a handful of jacks dropped by a toddler. Lamps, still in their packaging, lined the check-in counter. Potted plants, artwork, and decorative pillows by local designers sat in piles on the floor.

  On. The. Floor.

  What the hell was going on?

  As she looked from the two well-coiffed women arguing behind the counter to the group of handsome gents having a heated discussion in the elevator alcove, a persistent pounding set up shop at the base of her skull.

  She approached the women at the desk. “Excuse me.”

  Neither looked her way.

  “Excuse me,” she said. This time with a bit more force.

  The women went silent and turned their heads in unison. Identically dressed, dark hair swept up in French twists, deep red lipstick.

  Chase placed her hand on the counter. “What is going on here?”

  They looked at each other and then at Chase. The one on the right spoke. “Che cosa?”

  “What?” Chase shook her head. A commotion from behind caught her attention, and she spun around. The gentlemen from the elevator alcove walked up to her, all speaking in Italian at once.

  She threw up her hands. “Please. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  One of the gentlemen slapped another on the shoulder and gestured toward Chase as he spoke. All the men laughed.

  Well, hell, this was not the start she was hoping for. Where was the director of hotel operations? She bit the inside of her cheek. Everything should be set up and ready to go. All she was supposed to do was prepare for the grand opening, and make sure the ambiance of Huntington House melded old-world Ferrara and upscale, white-glove customer service, following the vision set by her and her father. But the director was nowhere to be seen, and the place looked like a hurricane had come through.

  “Gentlemen, please. Where is the director, Signor Donati?”

  They all shook their heads, speaking over one another with accompanying hand gestures. She didn’t need to know Italian to understand Donati was nowhere to be found, and they weren’t happy with the new American interloper.

  “Okay, okay. One at a time. Please.” She pulled in a breath. “Does anyone here speak English?”

  It didn’t take a translator to figure out what “stupido Americano” meant.

  The pounding in her skull revved up as their voices and her to-do list grew louder and longer. The staff wasn’t bilingual? At the very least the concierge and customer service should be. Who the hell hired these people? And where the hell was Donati?

  The desire to fire everyone on the spot was strong, but she dug her nails into her palms instead. Three weeks left meant no time to interview, hire, and train all new staff that met Huntington House standards. But they didn’t need to know that.

  Raising her voice to be heard over the commotion, she placed her hands on her hips. “It looks like the first thing I need to do is find new staff.”

  The two women inhaled sharply as the men continued to argue. Chase eyed the two ladies through narrowed slits. They understood English just fine.

  “Oh come now, that’s no way to start off as the new kid in town, is it? Perhaps I might be of some assistance.” A miracle came in the form of a familiar voice that skimmed down her spine for a second time that day. Her glance at his shoes was nothing more than a reflex.

  Immediate silence followed.

  “You’re my translator?” Chase looked over the heads of her motley crew and took in her tall, dark, and handsome she’d been sparring with only minutes ago. She could look at this man all day, but right now she needed his voice. “Thank God.”

  “No, thank Drago.” He flashed a devastating grin, then extended his hand. As she slid her much smaller one into his firm grip, she couldn’t help but feel like she were shaking hands with the devil.

  Because there was no way God would ever make a man this sexy on purpose.

  At five feet nine inches plus four-inch heels, Chase normally met at eye level if not towered over most people—but this guy still looked down his straight and narrow nose at her with an intense dark gaze and a hint of a smile. The kind of smile that curled her toes and set off warning bells at the same time. He was still playful, but with an undercurrent of something dangerous.

  She gave a mental shake of her head, chastising herself.

  “Drago De Luca…at your service.”

  She frowned. “You could have told me outside you were my translator. Playing me as the fool will never help extend lunch into dinner.”

  He narrowed his eyes, studying her a moment. “Lucky for me, you already agreed.”

  “Did I?” She most certainly had not. Especially now that she knew he worked for the hotel.

  “But you’re mistaken, in any case. I’m not your translator. No Italian, I take it?” His voice was rich and deep, gliding over the English words with an accent she felt more than heard.

  The warmth from his hand seared all the way up to her shoulder. She let him go and tried to drop her hand to her side, but he’d closed his fingers more firmly over hers before she could slip free.

  She glanced down at their hands, then back to him. “Barely anything beyond ‘ciao.’ I’m Chase Huntington. I was expecting my director of hotel operations to be here. He was supposed to be my translator. Or so I thought.” She tried to pull her hand free again, but Drago continued to hold it. “My hand, love?” Her intrigue quickly dissipated. With the two of them playing tug-of-war and the staff all standing around looking to Signor De Luca instead of her, she needed to regain control. Now.

  She opened her mouth just as Drago released her. He put his palm up, gaining the attention of the group behind the counter. “Ottenere questa lobby in ordine ora. E non farti vedere ancora arte sul pavimento.”

  A few of the men cast their gazes over to the pile of pictures a
nd pillows, then to Chase. She had no idea what he’d said, but with only a few words, the men rearranged the furniture while the women focused on the artwork. The pounding at the base of her skull eased a bit.

  One man, the loudest of the bunch, paused to say something. But one sharp glance from Drago had the man snapping his mouth closed and dropping his gaze to his feet.

  That was interesting.

  Chase studied her new friend. He stood in a way that took up space. When he spoke, her staff took action. Which would be impressive if he was supposed to be the one in charge. But she was the person responsible for this hotel, with no time to waste in completing the design concept. Three weeks was barely long enough to execute a grand opening, much less finish the renovations the director had apparently skipped out on.

  She took a few brisk steps to the counter and laid her purse on the edge. Then, turning back to her sexy-in-shining-armor, she placed her hands on her hips. Sizing up people had become one of her superpowers over the years. The ability had developed when she discovered everyone was a stranger until they found out her last name was Huntington, and then they suddenly wanted to be best friends. And right now her superpower was telling her this guy was used to being listened to, wouldn’t deal with anyone’s shit, and knew the area.

  She’d never been one for being indecisive, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And what she wanted was this opening to be a success. “I have a lot of work to do and a very short time to do it in, and apparently the director is gone, so…” She clapped her hands together. “Want a job?”

  His jaw clenched a few times as he looked her over. Her tailored dress became too tight under his gaze, and her first “to-do” moved to second place as getting out of her dress moved to first. She resisted the need to fan her face. And shot him a suspicious look. Damn. Apparently he had a superpower, too.

  That wolfish grin flashed across his face again. “I already have a job.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Business.”

  She studied him, then tried another tactic. “You’re from the area?”

  The corner of his mouth threatened to curve up, but he settled it in a thin line. “Born and raised, but I left a long time ago. My grandmother owns Casa di Nonna.”