Around the World in 80 Men Series Boxed Set 1-10

by Brandi Ratliff

  “Obviously not!” the blonde girl was infuriated.

  “Mama!” The Italian man with an angry unibrow grabbed the woman's arm and yanked her off of the chair just as she sat herself.

  “How could you! This is your family!?” Morgan felt the heat rise in her neck as her temper flared. The very least she wanted to was to make sure that the guy was never able to reproduce, but more than that, she wanted to make sure the sweet old lady was taken care of.

  The man pushed on the old woman's back to make her walk faster, and Morgan realized she had lost the battle as she watched the two disappear around the corner. Morgan knew she'd never be able to save the world, but it killed her to watch someone treat anyone, especially their own family like that. She made her way to baggage claim and waited for the turntable to reveal a wave of pink. Let it go..just let..it...go.

  “There ya are!” She picked up her two bags, slung her camera bag over her shoulder, along with her purse, and made her way back upstairs. It was even more busy than Sydney's airport had been. It shouldn't be too hard to spot him, she sarcastically thought.

  As she waited by the escalator, her mind wandered to when her grandmother had still been alive. Even her mother, who had a heart that the Grinch would have envied would never have treated her grandma like that. Morgan regretted not doing more to help, but what could she have done?

  The image of the little old lady picked at her brain until she heard something that caught her attention.

  “Morgan! Morgan Holland!”

  “Oh! That's me!” Captain Obvious exclaimed. She looked around to where the voice had come from. After a quick scan, she saw a tall and lanky, but very well dressed, man holding a stark white sign that read her name.

  Nervously, she walked over to the man, waving the poster back and forth over his head. Oh, please no, please don't be Dante. Morgan wondered if the man had submitted a false photo for the database. He looks like Luigi. An anorexic Luigi in a business suit. With a fake smile, she asked, “Dante?”

  Luigi shook his head, “Morgan?”

  Morgan nodded, white knuckling the strap of her purse.

  “Follow me, Ms. Holland.” He folded the sign under his arm and grabbed the bags from her hand and began walking. Morgan paused for a second as she watched Skeletor walk through the automatic sliding doors. After realizing she was way behind, she did a run-walk to catch up to him on the sidewalk. How could anyone be that skinny in Italy? Morgan patted her stomach, thinking she was probably going to gain a few pounds while she was there.

  A limousine pulled up to the curb and the tall man set her bags in the trunk, then walked around the side and opened the door for Morgan, ushering her inside with a touch of impatience. Oh, I wasn't that late. Morgan flashed him a huge sarcastic smile as she slid into the back seat. Luigi didn't smile back, he just shut her door and climbed into the front seat without another word.

  Morgan thought about asking where she was going, but figured she'd find out soon enough. She wasn't even sure he'd answer her, and if he did, his accent was so thick she probably wouldn't have understood. Then it hit her. What if Dante's accent was that thick? Or worse, what if he didn't speak English. He has to speak English. Of course he does. She shook the thought and slid over to the window and pushed the little button and watched the glass disappear into the door.

  As they pulled out of the Leonardo Da Vinci airport, Morgan took out out her camera and snapped pictures of everything she saw, including a massive statue of the man himself and the huge green sign stating which airport it was. She continued to take pictures of the scenery, tiny cars, old buildings and even the sunset until it got too dark to see. Traffic slowed down the trip, but Morgan didn't mind the sight seeing.

  After nearly and hour, the limo pulled into the hotel and Morgan climbed out without waiting for the tall man to open the door for her. The girl stood by the car and nearly fell backwards as she looked up at the beautiful building. She hoped they'd be close to the top so she could get a good view.

  It wasn't until she saw Luigi walking ahead of her again, with her hot pink bags being pulled behind, that she realized the limo was gone and she was standing there like an idiot. For the second time she caught up to him, “you're a quick one!”

  Morgan was pretty sure he rolled his eyes at her as he turned and walked to the side of the lobby. Afraid he'd get out of her sight, she found her place at his side again. She looked up at the man who stood there like the Da Vinci statue. As tempting as it was, Morgan resisted the urge to wave her hands in front of his face to see if he would smile. I don't think he can.

  His serious demeanor made her uncomfortable and the longer they waited made it worse. She rocked on her heels and started to whistle but quickly shut up when Luigi shot her a dagger with his eyes. Damn...

  Each time the elevator rang out, Morgan's heart flipped in her chest with anticipation. After watching a few couples, an older gentleman and three employees exit the cart, she finally saw him.

  Standing in the back, waiting his turn to exit, was a man that stood the same height as Morgan, with her four inch heels, which made him roughly five feet ten inches tall. His shoulders were fairly broad, which looked even more so since they were above a narrow waist. His skin was lighter than that of many of the people around him, and his hair was cut short with just enough length on the top to gel straight back. He fit right in with everyone else, except for his eyes.

  They're beautiful! The man had the brightest blue eyes that she had ever seen. Not to mention that they were surrounded in black thick lashes which made them all the more striking.

  The moment those blue eyes found Morgan, his face lit up with a smile that showed off his perfectly straight white teeth. “Morgan!” he walked to her, and motioned for his valet to take the girl's bags into the elevator. “How was your flight?” He took her hands into his, and held them in front of his chest as he spoke to her.

  She found him charming, and perfect. Too perfect. He smelled amazing, every hair was in place, and his skin had a light sheen to it as if he had just shaved three minutes earlier. “It was great, thank you.” She smiled back, and looked down at her hands that were still trapped inside of his.

  He held her there in front of him as he looked her over slowly. His approval was obvious in the smile that he carried as he finally let go of her hands and motioned for her to enter the elevator.

  Once inside, Morgan watched the doors close, and the image of the two of them reflected back from the mirrored doors. He was looking down, admiring her backside. “I take it you approve?” She watched him look straight ahead again, and they smiled at one another through the reflection.

  The ride to the sixth floor was quiet, with nothing more than a few more silent smiles exchanged. When the doors opened again, Dante led her to the first room in the hallway, directly to the right.

  As he opened the door for Morgan, she nearly gasped out loud at what she saw. The room was by far the most beautiful room that she had ever seen. Not even in magazines did she ever witness such extravagance.

  The walls were dark yellow, and made to appear much older than they were. The floor was white marble, with large swirls of black and gray as far as she could see. There was a main living area, larger than her entire previous apartment, with antique furniture; she wasn't sure if they were real antiques, or just made to appear that way. The kitchenette was also large, and boasted of stainless steel appliances that would put most house kitchens to shame. He took her arm gently, and showed her the rest of the suite. There were two bedrooms, one larger than the other, that took her breath away.

  The bathroom was her favorite room, as the tub was easily ten feet in diameter. There were mirrors that lined the the entire far wall, and a two person shower with more jets on the walls than any one person (or two) would ever need. Two doors opened wide to a balcony that stretched more than thirty feet across, and offered a view that only the select few would ever see. The ancient city of Ro
me spread out before her, and her mind's eye could see exactly how it would have looked so many years ago.

  Dante didn't speak as he showed her his suite, he only watched as they walked from room to room, hoping to see her reaction to the beauty that he offered her. When the tour was finished, they stood on the balcony and he finally asked, “I take it you approve?” His playful tone was the rebuttal to her question in the elevator.

  Morgan laughed, and answered, “yes, I think I could tolerate a place like this for a week.” She stared off across the city, and took the sight in one last time before going back in.

  In the hallway leading to the main room, they passed Dante's valet who was carrying all of Morgan's luggage to the smaller of the two rooms. “So, that's the room we're sleeping in?” She pointed to where the valet had just disappeared to.

  “No, that's where you'll sleep.” Dante kept walking, and Morgan trailed behind him. We're not sharing a room? Okayyyyy. She didn't ask right then, but she hoped that he would explain more about their sleeping arrangements. She didn't have to wait long.

  Morgan chose her seat on a black chaise lounge, one that looked to cost more than anything she had ever owned in her life. As soon as her body rested, she felt the weight of her journey settle over her in the form of a long, and very unladylike yawn.

  Dante sat across from her, and called out to his valet. “Franco, bring us wine.” Morgan started to protest, but Dante interrupted her, “Morgan, you're exhausted from your trip, the wine will help you relax more so that you'll sleep well.” Then he leaned back, and started to tell her their plans for the week.

  Franco? Nope, he's still Luigi. Morgan smiled at her hands as she listened to Dante.

  “We'll have plenty of time to speak later, but I thought I would give you the brief overview of our plans.” Morgan's eyes grew heavy as she tried to pay attention. He explained that he had just opened a new restaurant, the seventh in less than five years, and he needed to be there every day. Morgan was happy to hear that she would have her days to herself, considering how little she had seen of Scotland and Australia, but her hopes were shattered when Dante added, “I'll require you to be with me at the restaurant. We'll leave here at six in the morning, and finish at eight.” What? I have to sit in a restaurant ALL DAY?

  Then he added his nightly ritual, “we'll eat at eight, right after work, then come back here for some...shall we say...personal time. After, we'll sleep in our own rooms to ensure that we both rest well.”

  Morgan stared at the handsome man, trying to mentally sort what she would have to do for the next week. She also figured out his personality; extreme type A, every minute of his life is scheduled, and driven by success to an absolute fault. The strangest part, however, was that she could clearly see that he was shy. Not enough to stop him from getting what he wants, but shy enough that they had barely spoken until then, and the most enthusiasm he'd shown to that point was when speaking of his restaurant.

  She listened while he explained that he had been born in America. His father was Italian born, and his mother was American. Dante had learned everything he knew about the restaurant business from his father, who owned two successful locations. As young Dante grew, however, he longed for his family's ancestral home, and he chose to move closer to his extended family. He also could think of nothing else to do with his life beyond opening a restaurant.

  Franco brought the wine, in the largest wine glass that she had ever seen. She took two drinks before attempting to set it down on the glass table in front of her. Seeing nothing to set it on, she brought it back to her lap and held on to it. She also had no idea what to say to the man, and too tired to try to think of something. Another drink. Separate rooms? One more drink.

  Morgan's head fell to the side, and rested on her shoulder. The battle was all but lost, and she could no longer stay awake. She thought she was dreaming when she felt herself being carried.

  She opened her eyes to see who's arms she was in. “Luigi?' Her words were nothing more than a whisper.

  “Franco.” His answer was clear, and everything but a whisper. He took her to bed, and dropped her gently.

  Before sleep took her again, she thanked the man, “thank you, Luigi.”

  “Franco.” The tall man left her room.

  Chapter Two

  Five o'clock came much sooner than Morgan would have liked. The bedside alarm echoed through the room and Morgan pulled the cover over her head, hoping the noise would just go away. No such luck. She stretched her legs straight, then her arms and with a long yawn, she reached one hand out from under the cover and searched for the big button on top of the alarm. After the beast was silenced, Morgan rolled over and fell right back asleep.

  Five minutes later, her hand found the button again. Five minutes after that, Morgan's snooze attempt was intercepted with a bony hand around her wrist. The alarm went quiet again, and Morgan removed the cover around her eyes to see who had busted her.

  It wasn't exactly the person one could hope to wake up and see, but Morgan managed a tired smile anyway. “Just five more minutes, Luigi,” she stated in a barely above a whisper voice and pulled the cover back over her eyes.

  “Ms. Holland, you need to get ready. You are due to join Mr. Russo at the restaurant in thirty minutes.” With that, Franco robbed Morgan of all of her warmth by stripping her of the down comforter. She gave a half-effort in trying to hold it close, but in her sleepy state, she wasn't able to hold on long.

  Morgan groaned and gave Franco her best squinty eyes and frown as she stood and stomped her way to the bathroom. She shut the door harder than anticipated, and opened the door a crack, “sorry Luigi!”

  Morgan took a shower in record breaking time and wrapped herself in a robe to go find an outfit. Luigi was still in her room when she walked out of the bathroom, and she noticed all of her clothing had been hung in the closet and her shoes were laid out in a perfect row beneath the outfits.

  Shit! Where's my underwear!? She didn't know how to ask the question, but Franco must have understood it anyway. He gave a nod toward the furthest dresser in the room and walked out, finally giving her privacy.

  He must have been working on this during the night! Creeeeeepy! Morgan found the drawer full of her unmentionables and slid her legs through a pair of silk panties, then made her way to the closet.

  She noticed only the fancy outfits had been hung up. “Where's my jeans? My tee shirts?” She opened up the other door to the closet, searching for more comfortable attire, and saw on the inside of the door, an outfit was already laid out for her. “Really? I guess I can't expect to wear jeans to a five star restaurant.”

  After a long sigh of defeat, she grabbed the outfit Franco had prepared and went back into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

  “Hey, this isn't half bad!” Morgan did a turn in the mirror to look at her ass. The knee-length skirt hugged her hips and legs in a way that made her look, “sophisticated and sexy,” she announced in approval. She finished her make up, clipped her hair up and slid the white blouse over her shoulder's and buttoned it up. “Well, I don't need all these buttons,” she said as she undid the top three buttons, giving her just a touch of cleavage.

  Morgan was still hopping around her room, trying to get into her heels when Franco appeared in her doorway once more. “It's time to go Ms. Holland.”

  “Where's Dante?” Morgan asked. She thought they were going to go together.

  “There.”

  Not much of a conversationalist, are ya Luigi?Morgan nodded to the tall man and grabbed her purse, “I guess I'm ready then.”

  “Ms. Holland,” Franco pointed to Morgan's cleavage and waved his hand around in a circle like a magician summoning a rabbit.

  “Are you serious!?” How am I supposed to seduce him!? Franco turned around and waited for Morgan to fix herself. She stuck her tongue out as far as it would go when he turned his back, fine, but when we get to the restaurant, I'm undoing FOUR bu
ttons! She did the pearl buttons back together and asked Franco if it was better. He responded with a simple nod and the two of them headed out of the room.

  *****

  Nobody eats Italian food at six AM. Morgan still didn't feel completely awake by the time they pulled in front of the restaurant, but she decided she had better get used to it if he expected her to be there every day. She wondered how it was going to go, but more importantly, what was she going to do for twelve hours.

  Guess I'll find out. She stepped out of the limo and walked toward the restaurant, appropriately named after its owner. DANTE'S read above the large double doors in big green blocked letters that were trimmed in red neon lights. She paused before opening the door to look behind her and Franco gave her a nod of approval. Morgan took a deep breath and entered.

  “Mmm, it smells amazing in here!” she was hit with the aroma of pasta, chicken, sauce, garlic...

  “Alfredo!” She giggled at her previous question, knowing she would have no problem downing some shrimp Alfredo at six o'clock in the morning. She realized the employees were staring at her and also noticed the place was silent and she had probably made a spectacle of herself. Oh, I don't want to embarrass him!

  Morgan put on her 'professional woman' mask, flattened out her skirt and stood up straighter. With her shoulders back, chest out, she walked toward the back of the dining room trying to casually look for her client without being obvious. When she got to the kitchen, she saw him. Oh, how good he looked in that suit!

  “Good morning!” Morgan strutted over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

  “WHAT!?” He turned toward her and the look on his face made her recoil a bit, she pulled her hand from his shoulder and took a step back. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle and his lips were curved into a near snarl. Dante's eyes were intense, his cheeks red and beads of sweat formed on his tanned forehead.