“It would be our pleasure to welcome a guest of such international renown at The Medeia.” It would be a big publicity coup for the hotel and Seireneda to have Chase Latimer on the island. “Just do let me know if he will manage to make it so I can confirm his booking.”
“I will. Thank you.” She leaned forward and dropped her voice. “I trust that this will be all hush hush. My friend values his privacy.”
The manager was most effusive in his assurance.
Sabrina made her way back to her room, her mind in a whirl. After days of trying to ferret information, just like that she had the knowledge at her fingertips. All it took was a mention of Chase’s name. She shook her head ruefully. His head was going to swell even bigger than it was already.
A note propped on the desk snagged her attention. The words were written in bold, cursive handwriting.
“Have breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me tomorrow.”
Sabrina’s eyes landed on the small velvet box that had been holding the note up. She laid the note on the desk and opened the box. Inside was a small, teal-colored sea glass. Underneath the box was another note.
“There’s more where this came from. I will take you there. Lobby, 7 am, tomorrow.”
Sabrina shut the box. Luca was asking her to spend a whole day and night with him. Her mind said no but her body, her body was saying a definite yes. The Konstantinos wouldn’t be arriving until the day of the wedding anyway, so it was not like she was abandoning her mission, she rationalized guiltily. And besides, she had her back-up plan in place.
Just in case.
Chapter 8
She was punctual. Luca was pleasantly surprised. At five minutes before seven in the morning, the elevator doors slid open and his cup froze midway to his lips at her grand entrance. Grand to him because without any fanfare, she stole his breath again. She wasn’t trying to draw any attention, Luca observed. Her hair was pulled back off her face in a ponytail. She had on a tank top, a thin cardigan, and white shorts, all off-the-rack items that looked like a million euros on her. She spotted him just as he moved to deposit the cup on its saucer on the table. He sighed. Another espresso wasted. After a sleepless night, doing conference calls and then tossing on the bed, he badly needed it. Markos had called again, reiterating the need to keep Sabrina quiet and out of his mother’s way. They were arriving late in the afternoon today. Thus the need to plant that little misinformation via the manager of the hotel just in case Sabrina decided she’d rather go after Markos and to hell with their deal.
He buried the raging jealousy he felt over the fact that she was sniffing around, still angling for Markos, even though she made a bargain with him. The bargain he had no intention of honoring. It made them even then, he thought grimly, but that didn’t erase the ungovernable need he felt to make her forget her ex-lover.
He rose to his feet just as she walked towards his corner in the lobby café. She ducked her head, making eye contact with the floor until she halted a few feet from him.
“Buon giorno,” she greeted.
On another woman, he would have said she sounded shy. Luca swore mentally. He had a sudden image of her in a Catholic school girl uniform, hands clasped behind her back, scuffing the tip of her black school shoe in girlish embarrassment.
“Buon giorno,” he returned curtly, ruthlessly erasing the image. It was turning him on. And why this sudden fantasy about a school girl Sabrina? She was not an innocent young miss. And Luca had no use for innocent misses since he had lost his virginity to Maria a.k.a. Lucia.
Disgusted at himself for allowing her to continually get inside his head, he swooped down to distract himself instead with a kiss. It was a mistake. Her lips were soft, smooth, and bare of lipstick. They parted just a fraction of an inch and a tiny puff of air brushed against his own, as if she had exhaled in relief at the contact. As if she had been waiting for the kiss all along. His arms sprang out and snaked around her waist, yanking her close before he even realized what he’d done. She clung to his shoulders while he tasted her sweetness, over and over, nibbling at the bow of her lip, grazing that corner of her mouth that tilted ever so rarely when she smiled. He could feel the hard points of her nipples through his shirt. He groaned mentally, trying to will his erection down.
Her soft moan snapped him out of the public display they were granting the guests at the lobby. He raised his head and looked around. There were few people at this time of the day. Those who were appeared to be preoccupied with their business. Either that, or they were just very good actors.
Sabrina dropped her hands away from his shoulder. Her cheeks were pink and she had glued her attention on one of the potted plants dotting the café.
“We’d best be on our way.” For the first time, he noted the wheeled carryall standing by her side and stopped short. He felt disconcerted that he had only just noticed it now. He had a keen eye for detail. In the fashion business, it helped that he was very visual. It disturbed him more than he cared to admit that with Sabrina, it was like he was looking through a kaleidoscope. His world narrowed to the exclusion of anything else except that view of the shifting, fascinating images made of beautiful, broken little pieces that were ephemeral. He realized Sabrina was like that. Lovely and alluring, but ever changing with her affections. If indeed she ever felt affection for all those men she had been with.
But what did he care? They were just going to finish what they had started and after that, it was arriverderci, strega.
“The hard case will protect my finds,” she said, misinterpreting the cause of his displeasure. Her hand tightened on the handle of the small luggage protectively.
“Your finds?”
“Of sea glass…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
He nodded brusquely, feeling like a damned idiot. Of course. That was part of the bait. Those damned sea glass. He took her arm and propelled her to the lobby entrance where a Mercedes was idling, wondering why a gold digger needed a hobby to sustain herself. Probably as back up. Luca assisted her inside the car while the bellhop stowed away her luggage inside the trunk.
Up close inside the close quarters of the vehicle, Luca noted that her hair was still damp. And when he had kissed her in the lobby, she smelled familiar. He realized that she smelled like the hotel shampoo–a clean, bracing ocean-inspired scent that their company had customized for the hotel.
“What is it?” She sounded on edge.
“I like the way you smell.”
“I’m not wearing any perfume.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t have a scent.”
She didn’t know what to make of his statement. Her expression was deliberately neutral. “I have a scent?”
“We all do.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
“Almost being the operative word.”
Her lip tilted on that corner he had kissed. “So, tell me. What do I smell like?”
It got to him every damn time. The way she was so gauche at flirtation, so uncertain, like she had just gotten her fairy wings and was testing them out. And like the fool that he was, he let it work its magic on him anyway. Luca bent forward and touched his nose to the area behind her ear.
“Are you sniffing me?” A cross between a surprised snort and giggle escaped her. He had found her ticklish spot.
“Here you smell clean, fresh and sweet, like spring blooming in the last days of winter.”
“What do you mean h-here?” she gasped when his tongue flicked against her skin, tasting her. “And are all Italian men so poetic?”
Her reference to other men goaded him to do what he did next, uncaring of the chauffeur who could hear and see him. “You have a different scent elsewhere,” he murmured, his hand inching higher on her thigh.
“Elsewhere?” she squeaked when his hands cupped the area between her legs.
“Don’t you remember?” he whispered, stroking her. “You threw it at me, quite shamelessly I might add. I kept it.”
Kept what? S
abrina could barely string together a coherent thought. She didn’t dare move, caught between shame and desire. How can she let him affect her so? A man she barely knew. Allowing him intimacies she had never allowed anyone since Chase.
It’s long overdue, Bree. When had Chase’s voice become her conscience? Or rather the tempting devil? Don’t overthink it.
When his fingers crept inside the edge of her shorts and pushed the edge of her underwear to the side, Sabrina lost all power of thought. He swallowed her gasp in his mouth as he delved into her wet slit, her thighs parting wider to grant him access. Dimly she noted that he had angled his body so that her lower half was shielded from view. Not that the driver wouldn’t know what they were up to. And at this point,
Sabrina really couldn’t care.
All she cared about was that Luca not stop. Her toes curled inside her flip-flops as he grazed a particularly sensitive spot. He did it again, and Sabrina jerked slightly at the contact. He pulled away, trapped her gaze and repeated it, as if it was an experiment and he was trying to replicate the result. A wicked smile played on his full lips and the jerk pressed deeper, harder. Sabrina’s hips bucked off the leather seat, but his other hand dug into her thigh and kept her pinned down.
“Eyes on me, strega,” he rumbled softly.
The wickedness in his eyes were gone, replaced by something. Hunger. It was the word that popped into her mind as sensations raced and it was all she could do to keep her lids open and obey him. His fingers worked faster. Luca’s jaw was clenched and his neck corded with tension. Sabrina’s breathing grew shallow, labored. She grasped his arms, hanging on for dear life as she readied herself for what was coming. The impact of her staggering release arched her neck, pulled her muscles taut, and then dropped her limp like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut.
When she had reassembled herself, she found his piercing gaze was still on her. The blue of his eyes had gone several degrees darker.
“Bellisima,” he said gruffly, his throat working.
This time Sabrina had to look away. She didn’t want to make more of what she could see on his face. Like she was the most precious thing he had ever seen. Silly, she scoffed, shutting the lid on her imaginary box of emotions lest she allowed the butterfly of hope to escape. When she was a little girl and she felt bereft whenever her mother left her after one of her rare visits to go back to her real family, Sabrina had cried uncontrollably. Great, racking sobs that disturbed the neighbors next door. Her grandmother feared they would complain to the landlord. They were always late with the rent, and it would take little for him to kick them out. Her grandmother would take out an old shoe box. “Put your sadness in here, Sabrina, so you’ll be able to sleep for the night. You have to wake up early for school tomorrow.”
“Can I take it out again tomorrow, Grandma?”
“You can. After you’ve done your homework and helped me with the chores.”
Grandmother made sure she had plenty of chores so by the time she hit the bed, she was too tired to peer inside the box. But she didn’t know that sometimes Sabrina would wake up in the middle of the night and open it. She had learned to muffle her sobs so she didn’t disturb anyone.
That look of almost tenderness Luca had given her? How would she know something like it? She’d never stowed it inside her box. Her grandmother was always tired and gruff with her. Her mother rarely looked her in the eye. In the rare times Sabrina caught her staring at her, it felt as if her mother was trying to figure her out, as if she was a changeling child. She’d always smile effusively when caught, but Sabrina detected the guilt in them.
Shit. Why did being physically close to Luca always make her feel so maudlin? It’s because you haven’t had sex in years, Sabrina. You’re just confusing lust with intimacy.
She shifted, drawing her thighs together, until she realized his hand was still between them. He pulled it out after a beat. Sabrina’s face heated at the sight of his moist fingers. It practically scorched when he drew it to his nose.
Shit!
“I had a whiff before,” he rasped, and Sabrina realized he was talking about her panties, “but this, this is your essence. And your scent here drives me crazy.”
Sabrina bit back a whimper. His raw words were starting to make her ache all over again. He pulled out a handkerchief from the pocket of his white chinos, wiped his fingers, and jammed it inside his pocket again in precise movements.
The vehicle stopped. Dazed, Sabrina realized nothing had registered of their surroundings on the way to their present location.
“We’re here, sir,” the driver’s voice intoned respectfully.
Sabrina blushed, aware that the driver had probably chosen to announce their arrival to make sure the fact registered on his otherwise preoccupied passengers.
“So we are,” Luca drawled sardonically, leaning away from her to look out from his side of the window.
Sabrina sat up straight and discovered they were at a marina. Several gleaming yachts were moored in neat rows, forming a picturesque view of the harbor. The winds whipped the sails of the smaller boats and here, the brine odor of the sea stronger than in the central part of the island.
They disembarked in front of a modern, three-level structure with signage that read Seirenada Yacht Club.
“We can have breakfast here while the crew does last-minute checks.”
“The crew?”
“We’re riding on a yacht to access the beach I’d like to show you.”
“I thought the beach you were going to show me was on Seirenada.”
“Technically the beach is on Seirenadian territory, but it’s separate from the mainland.”
The warm greeting from the receptionist prevented Sabrina from saying anything else, especially as she rather thought it bordered on the too warm for her taste. It cooled when the mocha-skinned woman saw she was with Luca.
They were led to a modern, nautical-themed restaurant with wooden plank floors and a table at an outside deck with a view of the pretty harbor.
Sabrina couldn’t really eat anything, her stomach unable to handle more than toast and coffee in the morning. Luca had no such problem. He ate his croissant and bacon and egg omelet with apparent enjoyment and elegance, making small talk between bites about the first yacht show on the island next year. It was Seirenada’s chance to show off its spanking new marina and hopefully attract more tourists. Sabrina was content to listen to his fluid voice and watch him punctuating his sentences with an occasional shoulder or hand gesture that was so Italian.
“I apologize. I talk too much.” His lips twisted wryly. He reached for his cup of espresso, obviously cueing her that it was her time to talk.
“No, don’t apologize.” She would be happy listening to him talk for hours. “You have a beautiful speaking voice. Do you sing?”
His bark of laughter was answer enough. “Dio! They would declare me persona non grata in Seirenada if I did.” The Liguerians, as locals of the principality were called, were known for their musicality and beautiful voices. “Even the cats in heat on the island can sing better than me.”
Sabrina chuckled. “What a comparison!”
“Just wait ‘til you join me in the shower and hear me sing. You will not be laughing then, I assure you.”
But Sabrina wasn’t laughing now. She gulped her coffee as images of Luca’s glistening body, wet from the shower, flashed before her. She nodded mutely when he asked if she was done with breakfast.
They were heading out of the lobby when they ran into someone familiar.
“Eleni.” Luca’s greeting was clipped as they were forced to a stop to acknowledge the other woman’s presence. Behind her was her assistant wearing a blank, professional look on her face.
The same heavy perfume hit her at once, and Sabrina felt nauseous. The woman wearing it probably was the main reason she felt like puking, not the fragrance, she thought nastily.
“Luca!” Eleni broke into a spate of animated Greek, deliberately excl
uding Sabrina from the conversation. She was speaking too rapidly but she caught snatches of “sorry,” “it won’t happen again,” “gold-digging bitch,” and “whore.” She said the last with a glare in her direction.
Throughout it, Luca’s face was impassive as granite. “We have to go. Excuse us.”
He cupped her elbow and took a few steps forward, but Eleni wasn’t done yet. She grasped his sleeve. She started talking in Greek again and glanced at Sabrina malevolently when she said the word slut.
Before Sabrina could think about it, she found herself shoving Eleni’s French-tipped fingers off Luca’s arm. The brunette appeared stunned and stumbled a few steps back, almost hitting her assistant, who had sidestepped neatly and quickly. Sabrina had to give the assistant credit for her lightning-fast reflexes and composure. Her boss was another matter.
She looked ready to take Sabrina down, but she wasn’t allowing the woman any advantage. This time she let her mouth make the next move.
“It’s over, Eleni. He doesn’t want anything to do with you, can’t you see?” She stepped closer and leaned in. “There’s plenty of other prey in the jungle to go around, Eleni. I’m sure you’ll snag one in no time at all.” She quickly stepped back, out out of Eleni’s reach.
Eleni looked shell-shocked.
Sabrina didn’t know which caused that reaction. That she dared touch Eleni, the context of her words, or how she delivered them–in halting Greek. Luca appeared just as stunned, staring at her as if she had sprouted horns. She wasn’t waiting around for Eleni’s counterattack.
Sabrina tugged on his arm, dragging him all the way outside until they were several meters away from the yacht club. She felt just as shocked as Eleni by how she reacted. When the Greek had laid her hand on him, the cavewoman inside her had roared "MINE!" Never mind if Luca would only be hers until tomorrow. Until then, she was not sharing him with anyone.
She took deep calming breaths to compose herself. What had gotten into her? Or who had taken over her? She risked a peek at Luca, mortification awash all over her body.
When She Fell for the Billionaire Page 9