“She’s so adorable!”
She had dark curly hair and big blue eyes.
“She’s not mine,” Luca said in amusement.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“But you thought it.”
The little girl stopped in front of Luca and gazed at him solemnly. “Stowy.” She was trying to lift the book onto his lap and climb on it at the same time. Her chubby feet were bare. “Wead.”
Luca scooped her up. “She’s my goddaughter.” He kissed the top of the moppet’s head, and Sabrina’s belly clenched.
The tableau in front of her affected her on so many levels. Growing up with an absent father. Check. Imagining Luca as a dad with his own daughter. Check. Imagining Luca as the father of her child. Uncheck.
She ordered her ovaries to stand down.
“Alessa is the captain's and Antonia the stewardess’ kid. They bring her on board when there are no events.”
The chubby-cheeked toddler demanded his attention and tapped the book impatiently.
“Good choice of book,” he said, grinning. He tilted the cover so Sabrina could see the title. It was a heavy, coffee table book.
“The House of Argenti: A Hundred Years in Fashion” she read aloud. “That would make for a very interesting read for a toddler,” she chuckled.
“It’s all in the delivery. Watch and learn, cara.” He settled Alessa more snugly on his lap and began reading. “Once upon a time in a town called Milan lived a man named Petro. He was a shoemaker.”
She quirked an eyebrow.
“It’s true. My great-grandfather was a shoemaker.” Alessa tugged on his arm. “I’m sorry. Where was I? Oh yes. He was the best shoemaker in town and he was sought after, even in neighboring towns.”
“Pwincess!” Alessa demanded.
“Hold on. I’m coming to that part.” He turned a page and winked at Sabrina. “One day a princess who loved shoes heard about Petro’s skill. She wanted a pair for herself. She came to town and sought Petro, who took one look at her and fell madly in love.”
The back of Alessa’s head was resting against Luca’s chest trustingly. Sabrina’s chest tightened.
“She demanded to have a shoe made, one that would be so beautiful she would be the envy of all the princesses in the neighboring kingdoms. But Petro refused.”
Alessa tucked her thumb in her mouth.
“The princess, because she was not used to being refused anything, said, ‘Name your price.’ Petro said ‘I would make you a shoe so beautiful you would be the envy of all if you will consent to be my bride.’ The princess agreed and she married the shoemaker, and they lived happily ever after. The end.”
“You’re making it up!” Sabrina cried then quickly lowered her voice when Luca lifted a finger to his lips. He cradled his cheek with one hand and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
She canted her body forward and peered at Alessa. “She’s asleep,” she whispered. She took the book from him and laid it gently on a side table.
The door burst open and a harried-looking Antonia stepped into the room. Her relief was obvious when she spotted her daughter.
“I’m sorry. She was napping when I left her for a while. Took me some time to figure out where she went to since the cameras were-” she faltered when Luca rose, carrying Alessa.
Sabrina wondered what had her looking so flustered when she realized she and Luca were still clad only in bathrobes.
“It’s alright. She’s such a lovely child. I’ll take her to your room.”
“There’s no need,” Antonia said in a rush, moving forward to take Alessa, but Luca sidestepped her in one gracious movement.
“I’ll be back. Wait for me here,” he called out.
Antonia threw her an apologetic smile as she pulled the door close with a soft click on her way out.
Sabrina looked around her properly. The library did not have a stuffy, old gentleman vibe atmosphere that one associated with most libraries. For one, the bookshelves were made of a clear material, like fiberglass, so the books looked like they were floating. She spied a globe in one corner, and it too was made of a clear material. She touched it to spin and was startled when it lit up, illuminating the shape of a land formation. She looked closely. It was Seirenada.
She’d never imagined her search for the truth would lead her to the tiny principality, and with it a chance encounter with an Italian billionaire who was too sexy for her peace of mind.
Her body ached in the most pleasurable of ways. Luca was a generous lover and she blushed, recalling how generous he had been, of how he stripped her of all inhibitions.
The door opened and he stepped inside, her lover for a few more days. Tomorrow was the wedding and the day after, she was leaving.
“You’re good with children.”
“My cousins in Italy breed like rabbits. Their brats are always underfoot in family gatherings.”
She could hear the fondness in his voice he tried to underplay. “Was your great-grandmother really a princess?”
He flashed her a lazy smile, stopping in front of her. “No.”
“Liar,” she said, pulling on the lapel of his robe.
An odd look passed across his face but it was gone in a flash, leaving Sabrina to wonder if she had imagined it. “Poetic license,” he murmured, snaking his arms around her waist. “She was a duchessa.”
“Oh. Were you making it up about the shoe?”
“It’s true. It resides in the family museum. She wore it to her wedding to my great-grandfather.” He glanced around and spied the book on the floor. “There’s a photo of it in there.”
“And that part about your great-grandfather falling in love at first sight? Was it true?”
He stared down at her. “You still believe in fairy tales?”
“I just wanted to find out if it was true,” she scoffed.
“Dio, you’re hoping it’s true.”
She struggled out of his grasp. “I was not.” But of course he knew she was lying. And she hated him for glimpsing something she even denied to herself. He refused to budge, his arms grasping her tighter more than ever. “I was…I was just curious.”
Now his arms released her waist to cup her face. “The truth was,” he said, his voice a rich, dark timbre, his thumb caressing the angle of her jaw. “He took one look at her,” Sabrina’s breath suspended, bracing herself for disappointment, “and he knew.”
“Knew what?” she whispered.
The air in the room became charged. Her mouth had gone dry. Her pulse kicked up. His blue eyes, darker than she had ever seen them, pinned her. She could feel his heat through their thick robes.
“That she was the one. The one he had been waiting for all his life.”
Her breath came out in a whoosh and her knees almost buckled. For a few seconds, she had imagined Luca saying those romantic words to her.
Silly Sabrina. Just because you had crappy parents like most kids in those fairy tales, you think the universe owes you a happy ending.
She faked a laugh. “That must have been a kick-ass pair of shoes.”
Luca’s brows drew together. Then his arms dropped and he took a few steps back, as if remembering himself and who he was with, she thought with a pang.
“And speaking of shoes, I have nothing to wear to the wedding. Can you bring me back to the mainland before the shops close? I know they close quite early here.”
He stiffened, his eyes darting away from her. “You don’t have to leave the yacht, strega. I’ll take care of it.”
“I can buy my own clothes.”
“I said I’ll take care of it. We have a store in Seirenada. I’ll pick something out for you. I’ll have it sent here.”
Of course he had a store. One that Sabrina had never dared step inside. A belt alone would have probably set her back a half year’s worth of sales. And of course he could have it sent to the middle of nowhere. “But-”
“I want you to stay the night.”
“And
if I don’t?”
“Then you are free to leave.” His tone was cool.
She studied him, as one might study one’s opponent in a poker game. His face was impassive, but Sabrina was trying to read beneath the mask. “I’ll stay.”
He nodded curtly, but she spied the flicker of relief in his eyes. It comforted her to know that he still wanted her as much as she wanted him. Even if for him it was just temporary.
Chapter 12
Luca had excused himself to Sabrina after they had put their clothes back on, saying he had to go check his emails and other communications that might have come in. They would meet for dinner in thirty minutes. He had been meaning to check them since they came back from the beach, but he had let himself be distracted by a witch. A glance at his mobile showed several text messages and missed calls. He pocketed it, deciding he would attend to it in private.
He had just stepped inside the yacht’s business center, a state of the art conference room that housed several devices–a huge touch screen, telefax machines, copier, and a laptop where any Argenti or their guests could conduct business anywhere in the world–when his mobile rang again.
It was Markos Konstantinos.
“She had a letter delivered to my suite when I arrived this afternoon.”
“She?” There could only be one woman Markos was referring to, but Luca wanted to buy a few seconds before he could grapple with the ugly truth.
“Sabrina Connelly. I had someone look into it. Apparently she bribed a member of the cleaning staff last night to leave it in my room once I arrived.”
Last night. After she had agreed to stay away as a condition of the bargain they had struck, she had gone back on their deal once more. The bitter taste of betrayal rose in his throat.
“I thought you were keeping her occupied,” Markos said accusingly.
“She’s with me aboard the Argenti right now,” he gritted out when he felt like howling. “We left for Isola Vetra this morning.” His grip on the phone tightened. “What did she want?”
Markos seemed to hesitate. Was his anger that obvious?
“It’s private.”
“The hell it’s private!” He had reverted to Italian, his control snapping. “You involved me in your personal affairs and you have the gall to keep the content of that letter private?”
The prolonged silence at the other end of the line must be from shock on Markos’ part. In all the years they had known each other, Markos had been the blustering, short-tempered one.
He hated how telling it was that he was affected by his ex-lover.
“She wants to see me.”
He closed his eyes briefly, striving for control. What did he expect? She was just remaining true to character. She had carried on an affair with a married man while she was still with Latimer. His mistake was thinking she would have been honest for once. With him.
As if he was someone different to her, someone special.
Fool!
All guilt in lying to her about bringing her to the wedding vanished. For a minute there, in the library, he had considered really taking her as his date and to hell with Markos and his promise.
Cold dread laid its hand on his spine. Was this how his father felt about the bitch who lured him away from his mother? Was her power over him that much that he had chosen to throw away more than thirty years of marriage so he could run away with a gold-digging slut?
He wasn’t giving Sabrina Connelly that power.
“I’ve alerted security. Once she’s back in the hotel, she’ll be told that her room is having problems with the water pipes. Since the hotel is fully booked, there will be no available rooms in The Medeia. I have arranged for her to be transferred to a private villa near the beach where she can stay and be monitored until she leaves the island.”
And yet despite her duplicity, he couldn’t help himself. “Tell your security not to lay a fucking finger on her or they’ll answer to me,” he growled.
“I can’t promise anything if she tries to make a scene.”
“She won’t make a scene. I’ll make sure of it,” he said grimly then disconnected the phone.
He plodded on with the emails and hundreds of things that needed his attention. Made calls to Olivia, somehow mustering the concentration needed to sort through the details for the launch. Checked on the reports from the regional store managers. Went over the budget for the spring campaign next year.
By the time he had finished, an hour had elapsed. An hour by which his subconscious had been trying to find a way to deal with her duplicity.
He decided he would carry on as if he hadn’t found out about her underhandedness. Losing control, losing his temper would mean he had already invested too much in their relationship, which was only a casual fling after all.
She glanced up when he entered the formal dining room. Sabrina had changed into a floral tank top and cut-off shorts. Her nose was pink from the sun and her face was bare of make-up. She had never looked more beautiful.
“I apologize. I forgot the time,” he said, sliding onto the seat across her.
“No worries. I kept myself busy.” She indicated the sketch pad and her pencil. She had been drawing a sketch of what looked like a bracelet. She didn’t look put out to be kept waiting, like other women would have.
Again, those things about her kept throwing him off. Her lack of artifice, her refusal to help her out with her business, her seeming inexperience in the bedroom…
She was playing with his head. The day after the wedding, she would be gone and he’d be free of her spell.
“Everything alright?”
“Yes. Just a last-minute thing that came up.”
“If you need more time-”
“It’s fine. Just an error of judgment on my part.” How innocent she looked.
“Oh. I hope it wasn’t anything major.”
“No,” he said firmly. “It’s of no consequence.”
He must have said it too firmly because she glanced at him strangely. The atmosphere had suddenly become tense. She broke the silence.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t bring anything fancy to wear.” Her smile was disarming as she tipped her head in the direction of the center of the table.
Fine crystal and bone china had been laid out to impress. Candles in silver candlesticks flickered in the dimmed lighting of the interior.
Antonia entered the dining room followed by a young man also dressed in the yacht’s official uniform. He pushed a trolley laden with dishes prepared by the yacht’s resident chef whom, Raphael, his oldest brother, had pirated from a well-known Milanese restaurant.
“We can manage on our own. Thank you,” he addressed Antonia when the gourmet dinner had been laid out on the table.
“Let us know when you would like the main course to be served,” Antonia murmured politely.
With a polite smile in their general direction, Antonia and her assistant left the room discreetly. Luca forced himself to adapt an air of lightheartedness he was far from feeling. He didn’t want her to suspect something was wrong. They talked about general things like Seirenada over their starter of salad greens and burrata, a fresh mozzarella.
“This is so good,” she murmured, taking a bite of the main course.
“It’s osso buco, a dish from the part of Italy where my family comes from. Chef Luigi has paired it with its usual combination of saffron risotto.” He liked the way she was enjoying her meal without worrying about the calorie count like some women he had gone out with. It made him uncomfortable diving into his steak while his date nibbled on a salad. He leaned forward and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “My mother’s version is out of this world, though. Molto delizioso! But don’t tell the chef I told you or he’ll walk out on us.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” she grinned, “unless your chef is a long-distance swimmer.”
That wrung an unexpected laugh from him as an unlikely vision of an angry, rotund Luigi diving off in a huff flashed be
fore him. “My brother would toss me overboard himself if I lost his prize-winning chef. He wooed Luigi for months before he agreed to be the onboard chef.”
“He’s totally worth it.” She sighed with pleasure, and the sound went straight to his groin.
He shifted in his seat. He wanted to pull off the tablecloth, send the dishes flying and crashing, Luigi’s wrath be damned, and take her right then and there on the table. Instead he let his fingers curl tightly around the stem of the wineglass and took a sip of red wine to distract himself from the wild impulse.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to let her go after today. Not until this desire for her died a natural death. Even after knowing she had gone back on her word. That she still wanted Markos. She was still charming him, bewitching him. Fooling him.
“I don’t suppose you cook.”
It took him a few seconds to realize she had spoken.
“No. My father never allowed his sons in the kitchen. He was very traditional.”
“He believed the kitchen to be solely a woman’s domain?”
“He believed a woman’s place was at home, taking care of the family. He asked my mother to give up her career as a lawyer and raise his three children. In return, he abandoned her for a woman half his age because of a stupid midlife crisis. If there is justice in the world, I hope she is only with him because of his money.” He couldn’t help the trace of bitterness that laced his voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you love him?”
“Who?” Her head snapped up.
“The man whose marriage you ended. The one who was old enough to be your father.”
She dropped her fork, as if blindsided by his attack.
He felt blindsided too by this feral need to know. He dreaded her answer either way. If she hadn’t loved the man, if he had his confirmation, then he wouldn’t be able to continue to pretend not to care that she was with him because she had no other agenda. But if she had indeed loved the man, Luca was afraid he’d be down on his knees in a heartbeat begging her to love him too.
“It’s none of your business.”
When She Fell for the Billionaire Page 12