He sounds just as American as I do, and it didn’t escape me that he just called me pretty lady, although I feel completely out of place in a classy club like this in my little summer dress.
“No… I was just getting a drink,” I answer, and he releases me. Heat leaves my body with the loss of his touch, but it comes rushing back as he turns his smile up a notch.
“Oh, good. You should get a drink with me, then,” he cajoles.
I raise a brow. “Should?”
“Yeah, because you’re doing it all wrong.”
I bite down hard on my back teeth. I’m not angry, I’m just annoyed that he’s right, although he has no idea how right he is. Nothing is truer than his words. I’m doing it all wrong. That includes everything.
“What am I doing wrong?” I ask, trying to appear nonchalant.
“This,” he answers and swirls his fingers around in a slow motion.
I find myself smiling. “Okay, so how would I do that the right way, then?”
“Not here.”
“Not here?”
“No.”
He gives my body a bold sweep and a hint of fire lights up his eyes. Men are always looking at me, but this guy is by far the sexiest man to show me attention in a very long time. Just for a few brief seconds, he actually makes me forget my problems and I find myself getting so lost in his stare I wish I could stay in the lure of attraction that’s drawing me to him.
“You can’t do it right here,” he adds, cutting into my thoughts. “You’d have to come with me to my private lounge, where I’d make your drink. It wouldn’t be vodka. You’re not a vodka girl.”
Christ… I should go back to the house. It’s really late, and if I go for a drink with this guy, what else am I going to get myself into?
He’s so gorgeous though, who would say no to him?
“It’s just a drink. I promise I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” The slight chuckle he gives me has me smiling again.
Just a drink… I can have a drink with a handsome stranger in a classy club, can’t I?
“Okay.”
A twinkle flickers in his eyes, and he flicks his hand to point toward the door to our left.
I step forward, and his other hand goes to the small of my back in an almost possessive manner. I’m tiny next to him as we walk. I’m guessing he’s well over six feet, so he makes my mere five foot two look like I’m a midget.
The music beats loud and vibrant as we take the stairs to the upper deck, then it fades to a low like at the bar, as we enter a lounge. I thought we’d reached our destination, but we continue walking and go through another door that leads to a room that instantly takes my breath away.
The first thing my gaze lands on is the wide archway that covers the left side of the room. It gives the most incredible view of the sea and the beach outside the club. It has a balcony that looks similar to the Juliet baroque-style ones I’ve seen in Verona.
The floor is covered in those bright shiny tiles like the club floor with glittery specks that look like diamonds splashed into the surface, and the black leather sofas compliment the sophisticated décor.
“You like?” he asks.
I turn to face him, and he gives me a satisfied grin. “It’s beautiful.”
I continue to gaze at him and wonder who he is to have a private lounge here.
“I run the place,” he says, correctly guessing what was on my mind. “And I don’t always like a crowd. This lounge is perfect when you just want to be alone.”
“It’s nice. Are you here a lot, then?”
He gives me a wide toothy grin. “When I’m not in Chicago. You?”
“I live in LA. I’m just visiting family.”
“And you came to a nightclub by yourself?”
“I… came out for some fresh air.” It’s a half truth, and I’m glad he can probably tell that I don’t really want to delve into what sent me out here by myself. Doing so was quite stupid now that I think about it.
“Take a seat.” He points to the stools by the bar counter.
While I sit, he heads behind the bar and starts taking out an assortment of fruit, fruit juices, and liquor. It’s fascinating to watch him.
“What are you making?” I ask.
“Your drink.”
“I haven’t told you what I want yet.”
“You don’t need to,” he answers with a wink and rolls the sleeves of his black dress shirt up his thick forearms. I catch a peak of some of his tattoos. There’s a snake curling up his left arm and a dragon’s tail on the right. Instantly, I wonder if he has any more and what the rest of his well-muscled body looks like.
He catches me watching, and a blush creeps into my cheeks.
“What if I don’t like it?” I challenge.
“You will.”
I like his confidence. I like it even more when desire fills his heated gaze. Sexual hunger I haven’t felt in a long time stirs to life and he looks at me like he knows exactly what I’m feeling.
With a satisfied smile, he reaches for a pineapple and starts cutting it up. He grabs a coconut next so I assume he must be making me a piña colada, until he reaches for a fruit I don’t recognize and a few strawberries, mango, and raspberries.
The fruit collection gets tossed into the blender along with ice, and I have to admit that watching this gorgeous man make me a drink is definitely some form of compensation for the hellish day I’ve had.
Once the fruit and the ice blends, he pours the mixture into a glass jug and grabs a bottle of Malibu Rum. He then drizzles in one shot.
Aunt Lurlene loves making cocktails all the time, so I know there should be a little more than one shot of rum in there.
“Is that all you’re adding?”
“Yup.”
“Is that how you make that drink?”
“No. You don’t know me. If you knew me, I’d be adding another four shots and you’d have this drink in a tumbler. Since you don’t know me, I want to make sure that whatever you do with me tonight won’t be influenced by anything other than me.” He gives me a wink, and my lips part.
I just stare at him, trying to process his words and the overdose of sexy he just gave me. I try to gather my composure and pretend I’m not affected by his charm, but he can see through my shit, and I’m sure I’m giving myself away with the blush that I know has turned my skin red.
“How can you be so certain I’ll be doing anything with you tonight?” I throw back trying to act like I’m not charmed by his words.
“It’s called wishful thinking, Bella.”
I melt as the traces of his accent make their way into his words.
He grabs a cocktail glass, pours the drink into it and holds it up.
“Taste it,” he says, sliding the glass over to me.
I take it, and my God does it taste amazing. The combination of fruit is sweet but has that tantalizing effect that has me savoring the intense flavor. The one shot of rum too was just enough of a balance to give it a kick.
“Oh my God, this is perfect. I’d bet if I made it, it wouldn’t taste like this.” I giggle.
“I doubt that, but I’m glad you like it. Now that’s over, you can tell me about yourself.” He leans onto the counter.
I raise my shoulders into a shrug. “There isn’t much to tell.” Since I’m starting to worry that I’m unlucky, maybe it’s best to limit the amount of info with him I share and go for that less-is-more effect.
“What’s your name?”
“Willow.”
“Willow… pretty name.” I love the way he says my name.
“Thank you. My dad is an artist and loves doing landscapes. He loves willow trees, so he thought I should be called that.” I take after my father in every way, and even when kids used to tease the hell out of me at school, I still thought my name sounded cool. I do landscapes too. When I became an artist, I just fell into it, exactly like Dad.
“I like it. I’ve never met a Willow before.”
&nb
sp; “Well, now you have. What about you? What’s your name?”
“Donatello, but people call me Donny. It’s easier.”
“Do you like being called Donny?” I definitely think Donatello sounds cooler.
“In the circles I travel in, you get a name and it sticks, whether you like it or not.” He chuckles.
I wonder what kind of circles he travels in, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but something in the way he intensifies his stare stops me. I swallow the words sensing that it might not be something I should ask.
“I don’t mind it,” he adds, seeing my hesitation. “Willow.”
“Some people don’t like shortening their names. That’s why I asked.” I smile and continue drinking my drink, enjoying it and enjoying talking to him.
“I think you’ll find that I’m not like some people. What do you want to call me?”
The glint in his eyes makes my nerves scatter. “I wouldn’t want to be the odd one out, so I’ll go with the crowd even though I think Donatello sounds cooler. Like my father, I’m an artist, and I absolutely love anything Renaissance. So, I’m inclined to think that Donatello, as in Donatello di Niccolò di Betto Bardi, the renaissance artist and sculptor, sounds cool.”
He looks impressed. “Wow, I knew there was definitely something I liked about you. Although I was named after him, people never really make the connection when they hear my name.”
“No?” I’m surprised to hear that.
“No, you’re the first.” His gaze drops down to my hands and scans over my fingers. I think he’s looking for a ring. When his gaze flicks back up to meet mine, there’s a smile in his eyes. “How old are you?”
“Isn’t it rude to ask a lady her age?” I’m trying to be cool and nonchalant too. He notices and smiles running his gaze over my face.
“Not if you’re making sure she’s legal.” His eyes glow with a lust filled inner fire that fills me with undeniable sexual anticipation I can’t resist. It makes my body heat up again. “Wouldn’t want my ass thrown in prison for being with a minor.”
I laugh. I have to. There’s no way I look underage in any way. I’m pretty certain that with all I’ve been through I’ve aged.
“A minor. You think I look like a minor?”
He quirks a brow. “It’s a compliment sweetheart. Same as being ID’d when you buy a drink or a pack of cigarettes. So hey, why don’t you put me out of my misery, Willow.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Thank fuck, although… you don’t look twenty-eight, Bella.”
I like how he swaps between calling me Bella and sweetheart, and I’m absorbing the attention this delicious man is giving me. Attention I desperately crave.
“Thank you. That’s quite a compliment. Do I get to find out how old you are?”
“Thirty-five,” he answers.
“You don’t look like thirty-five.” I pegged him at being either the same age as me or in his early thirties.
“Thank you,” he answers, giving me a clipped nod then that lust filled desire comes back to his eyes. “Come outside with me.”
He moves from behind the counter and starts walking toward the archway. I set my glass down and follow. We go outside and stand on the balcony, and the cool night air lifts my hair and caresses my cheeks.
“You said you wanted fresh air,” he points out. The soft light from the moon highlights the outline of his face, showing the sharp angles and planes as he smiles.
“Yeah. This is nice,” I agree.
“Why did you need fresh air?”
I gaze at him and note how curious he seems. The question is expected since it’s obvious something must have happened to send me out here by myself.
“I had some stuff happen and I needed to clear my head,” I explain.
“Sorry to hear. Well, you came to the right place. When you come to Bel Posto, you forget the shit and do whatever you want to do for the night. Be whoever you want to be and be with whomever you want to be with.” His eyes hold me in place, and I’m frozen in the lure of his words.
They sound like freedom. Freedom from the problems that have caused me to lose myself over the last few months. If I’m honest though, I think I lost myself long before. I think there was a point too when I stopped loving William and started doubting why I was with him. The reason why I’m so mad at the situation is that I’m mad at myself. There’s no way I should have had doubts like that and walked down an aisle to marry anybody, then have him dump me.
“People actually do that here? Do whatever they want?” I don’t know why I bother to ask. Aunt Lurlene is exactly like that. She always has been, and that’s why she’s here.
Is that why I’m here too? Last week, I packed my bag and jumped on a plane and headed to Sicily. There must have been something in my subconscious mind that told me I’d find the refuge I was seeking by doing so.
His gaze intensifies again, and as he tilts his head to the side, his eyes shimmer against the moonlight.
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
“I’m doing it now.” His teeth look even whiter in the subtle light.
“What? By hanging out here with me?”
“Yeah. What about you, Bella, do you want to give it a try?” He reaches forward and runs a finger over my chin, lingering at the edge of my cheek. A tremor of heat lances through me at his touch. “All you have to do is forget what sent you here.”
“Could it be that simple?” I wish it were.
He nods and gives me a wolfish grin. “You just move it out of your mind and think of the insane chemistry we have going on here.”
“Chemistry?”
“Don’t you feel it?”
My breath stills. I can’t lie and tell him I don’t. He walks around me slowly, taking purposeful strides, circling me the way a predator would its prey.
The smile that lights up his face as he continues his observation makes my pussy clench with need.
“I know you feel it,” he says in a low deep voice.
“What if I did? I can’t just do what I want.”
“Depends on what you want to do.”
I bite the inside of my lips, trying to hold in the burning desire sizzling my skin. I want so badly to escape the hell my life has become that it’s not hard for that desire to entice me to forget and give in to temptation.
What I want is for him to touch me. Everywhere. I want him to touch me everywhere and consume me with the same desire I see burning deep in his eyes. I can’t remember the last time I had fun, or the last time I truly did what I wanted to do. Me coming to Italy was more about the need, not to flee a bad situation that overwhelmed me.
I gaze up at the beautiful man in front of me as he drops his hand back to his side and gives me a lopsided grin filled with sin and temptation that flows between us.
“What do you want to do?” I ask him. I want to check that what I’m seeing is real.
“There are many things I want to do, but ladies first.”
Realistically, I must have known that agreeing to go with him for a drink was an agreement to the possibility of doing more.
The wild chemistry he spoke of burns me up from the inside out the longer he stares. He stops in front of me and looks me over, allowing his gaze to rake boldly over my body.
“Do you need some help, Bella?” he adds.
“Maybe…” I hear myself say.
“Okay. How about I show you what I mean with this kiss, then you can take it from there.”
My cheeks burn as he lowers his head and moves to my lips. Time slows, stilling around the wild sexual haze surrounding us until it stops. I don’t move.
His mouth brushes against mine and sparks of electricity pulse from his lips, setting my body on fire. It’s like throwing a match on a trail of gasoline.
I already know I’m not going to be able to resist anything else this man has in store for me.
Acknowledgments
To my readers.
&
nbsp; Where would I be without you….
This one’s for all of you.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support, and for reading my stories.
Hugs and LOVE xx
About the Author
Khardine Gray is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes hot contemporary romance and romantic suspense.
Her books have drool worthy heroes who will make you melt, and sassy, fun loving, ambitious heroines.
She loves writing and simply adores her readers.
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Also by Khardine Gray
Series
Bad Boy Bachelors of Orange County
One More Time
Pregnancy Scandal
Auction Time
Not Before Game Night
The Accidental Mafia Queen
Mafia Boss
Mafia Scars
Mafia Love
Gangsters and Dolls
Dirty Hearts
Stolen Kisses
Remember When We
Double Edged Hearts
The Sting of Love
The Vandervilles
When Beauty Met The Beast
Secrets and Lies
Into The Rabbit Hole
Standalones Novels
His Girl Next Door
Blossoms of The Heart
Mr. Delicious
Mailroom Delight
The Rules of Attraction
Falling For Him
Never and Always
I Love You again
One Wild Night
Shape of My Heart
Hearts Entwined
Complete Me
Double Edged Hearts : A Mafia Romance (Gangsters and Dolls Book 4) Page 20