Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  “Oh, I swear. Only not that word. It feels too much like an invitation. Every time I say it, I picture the person I’m talking to naked.”

  Why did he like that fact so much? “So you pictured me naked.” He raised a brow as his body tightened.

  Her jaw dropped, then she snapped it closed. “I did not, I…” She raised her chin with a lofty look and pulled the bag’s strap over her shoulder, then brushed past him toward the front desk. Rita and Inez lounged against the counter with bored looks on their faces, but when they saw him step up beside Chase they snapped to attention. “Signora,” Inez greeted.

  The two of them had given up on pretending they couldn’t understand her, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to instruct them in Italian. Chase’s inability to understand everything he said was one of his best-played cards.

  “Ladies, good morning.” Chase slid a list across the counter. “This is the punch list of all the public areas in the hotel. I’d like you to go through each item and take stock of what has been completed and what hasn’t. When I get back we’ll have a proper staff meeting.”

  The women looked at the list, then back to Chase with blank stares. They opened their mouths to speak, but Chase smiled and raised her hand. “Oh, and have we received the shipment of linens yet?”

  It was showtime. Laying his hand flat on the countertop, he spoke in Italian, his voice low and decisive. “You will get through as much of this punch list as possible before we get back. Understood? But you will not speak to the man about the tile. I’ve taken care of that. And when the linens come in, call me.” On to the next few steps in his plan to delay the grand opening. Time was getting short for Casa di Nonna.

  Two nods followed his words. Inez leaned forward, revealing a spectacular view of God’s gifts, and replied in Italian. “I have an idea for something a lot more fun than a to-do list.”

  He played at straightening the cuffs of his jacket, surprised to find that her offer lacked appeal—particularly, the American appeal he’d recently taken a liking to. “The punch list.” They’d do what he’d asked. He hadn’t earned his reputation as the Dragon for nothing. With the status he held within the city, he could make jobs come or go. He suspected Inez and Rita would like theirs to stay. He held their gazes until both confirmed.

  “Si, signore.”

  “Bueno.” He turned to Chase. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded with a grin. “It kills me to need someone’s help, but I’m glad it’s yours. At least I have someone in Italy on my side.”

  Something tightened across his brow at her words, but he smiled and opened the lobby door for her. As she walked on through, he followed close behind. Business was business, and the only emotion he’d let be involved was the love he had for his grandmother and the inn.

  Brushing off the dark thoughts, he offered, “I have other options for you. Options that won’t feel like an invitation.”

  She furrowed her brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, fuck, of course.” He grinned.

  Her eyes widened, and he laughed.

  “You see, ‘fuck’ for me delivers no emotional impact. No more than the English words ‘elbow’ or ‘grass.’ The same will work for you if you use cazzo or closer yet, minchia. Both of those words work for a ‘fuck’ replacement.”

  Now she laughed. “A ‘fuck’ replacement? I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

  “Try it. Say minchia.”

  “Mean…keeyah.”

  Pride lit his eyes. “There you go. Feels fine, doesn’t it?”

  She shook her head. “You are ridiculous.”

  If her eyes were any indication, she liked it. This wouldn’t be the last time he heard her swear in Italian.

  They headed in the direction of the Piazza Castello. He’d introduce her to the vendors she’d visited the other day and make sure it was the warm welcome she’d originally expected. She didn’t trust easily, and the business side of him respected her for it. But the strategist in him had to overcome it. A few perfectly planned successes following her day of failures would cement his necessity in her eyes and ease her distrust.

  He rubbed the pinching in the back of his neck as he studied the amusement shining from her face. The Dragon would not be weakened by the pretty American. His grandmother couldn’t afford it.

  Shrugging off the weight of it all, he focused on the busy street before him. He loved walking through his city. A rich history resided upon every corner between the centuries-old buildings, aromas that spoke of tradition and family, and artisan beauty that captured the imagination. Ferrara was a living and breathing postcard from the past that said, “Wish you were here.”

  A lot of the people here were angry with him for being gone so long, but they didn’t understand he had to leave. Being his father’s son had only resulted in Drago turning out more and more like him. How could he not when everyone expected him to be? No one could count on his father to stick around for any length of time, and Drago had proved to have a similar wanderlust. He ended up hurting the people he loved, like his grandmother. He’d honestly thought it would be better for her, for the inn, if he stayed away, but now Nonna was paying for his sin.

  They walked in companionable silence, with small exclamations of excitement erupting from Chase every few feet. This time she wasn’t buried in her phone, and her sounds of pleasure ran along his skin as if she’d touched him. He had fun when she was with him, and they hadn’t even slept together. That was a rarity. Fun with women usually equated to sex, and the trail of women he’d had fun with was a long one—and that trail led them right up the steps and inside his ex’s store. He hadn’t loved Lucinda, only the idea of her beauty and her heritage, but it had taken a long time to figure that out.

  He attempted to shrug off the tension in his shoulders. Now was no time to develop a conscience. It was time to solidify Chase’s trust in him, time to rid her of any resistance to bringing him solidly into the Huntington fold. Time to give her a win.

  Chase hesitated inside the door. “We might as well go to the next business on our list. The owner here couldn’t have been clearer that she wanted nothing to do with me.”

  Drago raised his brows. “Lucinda? No. We go way back. She is one of the kindest women I’ve ever met. I’m sure you misunderstood.”

  “No, there was no misunderstanding, I—”

  “Drago. How nice to see you.” Lucinda approached with a smile, speaking English.

  Chase’s eyes grew wide, then shuttered. He had to smooth this over. Just enough that Chase believed he had her best interest at heart, but not so much that Lucinda took her side.

  “Lucinda, this is Chase Huntington. She’s the owner of the Huntington House, opening up the street. I’m introducing her to my favorite businesses so she can create her VIP list for the grand opening.”

  “Oh, how charming.” Lucinda turned to Chase. “I met you the other day. I must apologize, I was in a bit of a state. I’d had a visit from one of my least favorite people and it left me quite…‘frazzled’ is the word, yes?”

  Drago didn’t miss the look of distaste his ex shot his way, but he hoped Chase did. He laughed. “That’s what happens at our age, no? We’ve many friends, many enemies, and sometimes the two are one and the same.”

  She pressed her lips together. “No enemies of mine are friends.”

  He had a long way to go with this one.

  Lucinda turned away from him and slipped her arm through Chase’s. “Say you forgive me.”

  Chase studied her for a beat with a neutral expression, and he tensed. Her trust issues weren’t exclusive.

  But then she smiled. “Of course, love.”

  He resisted the urge to blow out a breath, lucky she was a sucker for sincere apologies and genuine smiles. But he’d never been one to count on luck for his success, and having to do so now left his gut heavy and sour.

  Lucinda beamed. “Come with me. I will show you my most favorite pieces
and explain my dream for this store. I think it will be a stop all of your guests will want to make, no?”

  Drago walked alongside them, but Lucinda stopped him. “No, you go. Look around or kill a dream or two, but I want to visit with my new friend on my own.”

  Cazzo. Drago watched the two women walk off side by side. He’d have to keep a close eye on Lucinda. She had her instructions to make Chase feel welcomed today, but only today. The last thing he needed was her getting friendly enough with Chase to share his true intentions. And though Lucinda loved Nonna, he had no doubt she’d step on him at the first opportunity.

  His cell vibrated in his pocket. Stepping back outside, he answered it. “Si.”

  “Signor De Luca, Signor Worthington has been calling all morning to speak with you. He wants you to reconsider the buyout. He says to tell you, and I quote, ‘What kind of man steals another man’s dream?’”

  Drago froze on the spot. “But I’m not stealing anything. I’m buying it. And if Signor Worthington had paid better attention to his business, he could’ve demanded a hell of a lot more money. The way I see it, I’m saving him from bankruptcy. You know what, Michael? Give him my number. Tell him if he really wants to talk to me, he may call me directly. We’ll see how valuable his dream is to him.”

  “Si, signor.”

  Drago disconnected the call, then slid his phone back inside the pocket of his suit jacket. Signor Worthington wouldn’t call. The man wasn’t quite sure what Drago was capable of, or how far he was willing to go. Rumors had been heard, and it always amazed Drago how efficient those rumors were at keeping his buyouts quite docile. Most of them didn’t want to lose any more money than they already had.

  The businesses he bought out had been built on the sweat and tears and blood of big dreams and hard labor. Which was why better attention should’ve been paid and better business plans should have been made. If they’d put as much work into running the business successfully as they had on building it, the businesses would thrive, but no, most of them got greedy and lazy. They paid themselves more than their efforts were making, and performed less and less each day. As far as he was concerned, he was a hero, sacrificing his money and work on saving the business world of Italy from sloths and debutants.

  Chase stepped out of the clothing boutique with Lucinda by her side. Confident now that he could handle the two women, he greeted them. “Ladies,” he said, with a slight bow.

  Chase was glowing. She stepped beside him, but turned back to Lucinda. With a kiss to each cheek, she said, “Grazie, grazie. I had such a lovely time. I can’t wait to take this information back to the hotel. I’ll make sure our customers come here first.” She paused, her gaze thoughtful. “As a matter of fact, I have a few ideas on how to get your unique finds into Huntington House. A little teaser, leaving the guests craving more.”

  Lucinda beamed and kissed Chase on each cheek. “I can’t wait to hear them, and it was my pleasure. Let’s meet soon for lunch. Si?” She sent a triumphant look his way, one he didn’t trust in the least, and his confidence waned.

  “Si. I’d love that,” Chase returned.

  Lucinda stepped back inside with a wave. “Ciao.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, Chase pressed her lips together and pulled a breath in through her nose. She opened her eyes, directing the happiness shining there right at him. “Thank you so much. An introduction from you was all it took. Lucinda’s beautiful, and her store’s amazing. We’ve made plans for some wonderful projects that’ll benefit both her boutique and the hotel.”

  Chase’s enthusiasm went straight to his gut. He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth, even as dread weighed heavy in his chest. He’d have to cross Lucinda off his list of allies.

  “She’s so warm and inviting. We hit it off as if we’ve known each other for years. That rarely happens for me.” She took a couple steps down the sidewalk, then spun back to him and grabbed the lapel of his shirt. “Grazie.”

  In a flash, all his fantasies hit him at once as she pressed her hot mouth against his. The scent of mango and cocoa butter surrounded him like the Mediterranean itself. Without realizing it, he’d pulled her in high against his chest.

  She angled her head and sucked his lower lip into her mouth with a firm tug. Gesù, minchia. It was all he could do to keep standing. With one arm banded around her waist, he slid the other up into her hair and gripped it tight. Her moan almost sent him over the edge of decorum, and all he wanted was to press her up against the side of the centuries-old building and make history. It might be the kind that landed him in jail, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less.

  She slid her tongue along his lower lip and dove in to take more. But confusion didn’t even begin to describe his feelings as she pulled back and placed three quick kisses on his lips, then pushed at his shoulders to be put down.

  “No.” His voice was sharp and low.

  Laughing, she pushed at him again. “Drago, put me down. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that, but I was so relieved.”

  He went cold. “Relieved?”

  “Relieved. Happy. Since I’ve gotten here, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. I finally had a win.” She tapped his chest, grinning at him. “And it was thanks to you, love.”

  He took in the sight of her standing before him. They’d shared one of the most passionate, spontaneous kisses of his life, yet she remained looking crisp and unruffled save for her full, bare lips that were usually coated in some sort of gloss.

  “So that kiss was just business.” He hated when his words came back to bite him in the ass.

  She tipped her head and looked at him in a way that made him want to revisit that whole against-the-building idea.

  “I’m sorry. I got a bit too excited, but it felt right. Don’t tell me you’re complaining about my means of thanking you?”

  Felt right his ass, it felt perfect. Clearing his throat, he led her down the sidewalk to their next stop. He’d take her to ten more places if she thanked him the same way each time.

  “Not at all, I like your style of business.”

  The blush deepening the color of her cheeks was all the salve he needed. She wasn’t as unaffected as she let on. And he’d be sure to test out his theory again before the night was through.

  Chapter Seven

  Chase watched Drago exit the hotel with a sigh and a craving. She’d witnessed his magic during her staff meeting and found she was more turned on than if she’d watched a marathon of Chris Pratt movies. Holy crap did Drago own a room. Hell, he owned the city.

  She’d loved watching him speak while he’d translated. The way he held his body as if the walls of the room depended on him to hold them up, and the way his lips formed around each syllable he spoke. Her fingers drifted to her lips, the memory of his taste still on the tip of her tongue. What in the hell had she done? She never kissed the people she worked with. Ever.

  Except today, apparently.

  She clenched her hands behind her back to hide the shaking and made her way to her office. It had been all she could do to keep standing after the kiss, especially under the onslaught of the look in Drago’s eyes. But it was hard to be too mad at herself when that had been the hottest thing she’d ever done. It really hadn’t been intentional, but when the heated flesh of his lower lip registered against hers, everything rational flew from her brain and all she could do was feel—and she couldn’t wait to do it again. Italy, after all, was responsible for 90 percent of all female fantasies. And she’d never been known for turning away from an opportunity.

  Sliding into the chair behind her desk, she pulled up her punch lists. Inez and Rita made good progress this morning, but there was still a lot to do. Every room and public space down to the light switch plates must be inspected. She had to check the status on the sheets and set the staffing schedule. And that barely put a dent in her list. Shit.

  She pulled in a breath. Losing the director made the whole event a much
bigger challenge. He should’ve been here running the hotel side, leaving her to direct all the plans for the opening—but apparently his life was taking him in a very different direction, according to her father. And she had a little over two weeks left to do a job that would take three people four. Perfect.

  And it wasn’t only about launching a successful opening, but an unforgettable one. The chairman couldn’t have been clearer about the direction he was leaning. If they hadn’t agreed to give her this opportunity, the other candidate would already be running the show back home. Which meant she couldn’t ask for help with the grand opening here, not even from her father. Her chance would be over before it started if the events of the past couple of days got back to the board. All they needed was a hint that she couldn’t handle her job.

  Scanning her list, she tried to resist the urgent need to panic. She’d never failed at anything in her life and couldn’t stomach the thought of anything but absolute success with Huntington House. Her family trusted her, even if the board didn’t, and she didn’t want them to regret it.

  With a sigh, she worked through her emails, answering corporate-specific requests for the hotel, sorting through résumés of potential directors for this location, and brainstorming ideas for the program to honor the first overnight guest. Her eyes burned and her back ached. Pushing away from her desk, she ran up to her room to change, then headed for the front lobby. She needed to walk.

  It was getting dark, but the air was still warm and a touch humid with the usual blanket of fog. The city was settling into a quiet evening hum. She trailed her fingers along the old stone of the hotel wall as she strolled. How many others had touched the very same stone? What was their story? Had they found home?

  Going in the opposite direction she’d taken earlier with Drago, she weaved a path through the cobblestoned streets for a few blocks until she came upon a beautiful old inn edged by equally aged buildings on either side. Three tiers of balconies dripping in ivy were stacked in an offset pattern between the mini stone turrets, but scaffolding partially blocked the view along one side. The feel was cozy like a cottage, but demanded a second look like a castle. Above an arched, double-doored entryway hung an iron sign that read Casa di Nonna.