How Not to Mess with a Millionaire (Mediterranean Millionaires)

by Kyle, Regina

  Zoe almost spat out her cappuccino. “Really?”

  Dante gave her a look that wavered between warning and pleading. She let him stew for a moment, slowly sipping her drink, then relented and took pity on him.

  “I mean, yes, we have. He’s been a perfect host.”

  “Has he shown you the sights? This region of the country has some of the most beautiful beaches, the best shopping, and the finest restaurants in Italy.”

  “I’ve mostly been relaxing at the villa. Swimming. Reading. Catching some rays.”

  “You haven’t been to Pompeii? Taken the ferry to Capri? Spent the day on Marina Grande Beach?”

  Zoe shook her head.

  “What a pity.” Carmella clucked her tongue and wagged a finger at her grandson. “I’m ashamed of you.”

  “Me?” Dante lowered his coffee cup. “What did I do?”

  “Nothing, and that’s the problem.” Carmella’s eyes narrowed at her grandson. “Zoe’s been here an entire week, and she’s barely been outside these walls.”

  Dante returned his grandmother’s stare over the rim of his cup. “I didn’t realize you expected me to play tour guide.”

  “It’s settled, then.” Carmella set her mug down on the table with a loud thunk.

  “What’s settled?” Zoe asked, her gaze ping-ponging from grandmother to grandson. Had she missed something?

  “The sun is shining. The sea is calm. Perfect weather for a day trip to Capri.” Carmella’s sugary sweet smile matched her syrupy tone. “Unless you two had other plans?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Zoe protested. “Really.”

  “Zoe’s a big girl.” On Dante’s lips, the words sounded dirty and a little dangerous, making Zoe’s mouth go dry and her palms itch. Was he remembering their kiss? “She traveled all the way here from San Francisco. If she wants to see Capri, I’m sure she’s perfectly capable of going solo.”

  “Nonsense.” Carmella checked her watch. “If you hurry, you can catch the ten o’clock ferry.”

  Zoe gaped at Dante. “How do you know I’m from San Francisco?”

  She replayed their conversations in her head. It didn’t take long. The most personal they’d gotten was the night they’d listened to La Bohème.

  And that kiss.

  “Your shirt,” he answered, snapping her back to the present. “That first day. You left your heart there.”

  “Enough chit-chat.” Carmella pushed her chair away from the table and stood, signaling that coffee time was over. “You have a ferry to catch.”

  Dante rose to join her, picking up both their coffee cups. “It’s no use arguing with her. Believe me, I’ve tried. She’s stubborn when she gets her mind set on something. Like a mulo.”

  Carmella smacked him on the arm again, harder this time so that Dante almost dropped one of the mugs. “It’s not nice to call your grandmother a mule.”

  “What about Houdini?” Zoe stood and picked up her own cup. “We can’t leave him alone.”

  “He won’t be alone,” Carmella announced, marching past them into the house. “I’ll stay with him until you get back.”

  Zoe followed her to the kitchen. “We can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m offering. In fact, I’m insisting.”

  “I told you,” Dante said, bringing up the rear and putting the mugs in the sink. “She’s stubborn.”

  “Are you sure you can manage it?” Zoe downed the last of her cappuccino and added her cup to the pile. “He’s a bit of a handful.”

  Carmella lifted a designer-clad shoulder then let it fall. “How hard can it be? I raised you. And trust me, you were more than a handful.”

  “I wasn’t that bad.” Dante stuck his lips out into an unconsciously sexy pout, lips that only days ago had turned Zoe into a panting, pleading puddle of lust.

  She closed her eyes and gripped the counter for support. This was a nightmare. How was she supposed to spend an entire day in one of the most romantic spots in the world with Italy’s most eligible bachelor and not want to jump his oh-so-fine bones? Her mind struggled for a way out, any excuse, no matter how pathetic, that Carmella might buy, but she came up empty.

  “You were worse.” Carmella gave her grandson an affectionate squeeze and prodded them toward the foyer. “Go. Have fun. I don’t want to see you again until the sun has set and the stars are out.”

  Chapter Eight

  Dante stood at the rail of the high-speed ferry, torn between watching the breathtaking scenery unfold as they sped across the Gulf of Salerno and watching the breathtaking woman next to him, her gaze on the horizon and a small, secret smile on her face as the salt breeze sprayed her lightly, fanning her hair out behind her in soft, silky waves.

  Damn Nonna for putting him in this impossible position. It was going to take a feat of superhuman willpower for him to make it through this day without giving in to the urge to kiss Zoe again.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She sighed, and he marveled at how a simple puff of air could make his dick press uncomfortably against the zipper of his shorts. “The water’s so much bluer than it is in San Francisco.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, his eyes not leaving her. “It is.”

  She turned to face him, and he abruptly looked away, shifting his weight to avoid the pressure below his belt.

  “Have you been there?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered quickly, not wanting her to suspect he’d had a completely different meaning. “Most of my business in the States has been in New York. But I’ve seen pictures.”

  “You should go sometime. There’s so much to see and do there. Fisherman’s Wharf. Alcatraz. The Golden Gate Bridge.”

  “Are you offering to return the favor and play tour guide for me?” The prospect both thrilled and terrified him. Their relationship was temporary. Hell, with the exception of Luca and his grandmother—and maybe the Mediterranean Musketeers—every relationship in his life was temporary. That was all he could handle right now. He wasn’t supposed to be angling for an invitation to visit Zoe when their time together in Italy came to an end.

  “No.” An adorable blush spread across her face, and her gaze returned to the horizon. “I’m sorry you got roped into this. You don’t have to stay with me once we get to Capri. We can go our separate ways and meet up to catch a ferry back to Positano at the end of the day. Your grandmother will never know.”

  “Oh yes, she will.” He rested his forearms on the railing and stared out over the white caps of the waves. “You don’t know Nonna.”

  “I’m beginning to,” Zoe said, laughing into the salty spray. Christ, she was beautiful. Especially this way, windswept, relaxed, and free. “She’s a real force of nature, isn’t she?”

  He chuckled, his laughter joining hers and floating away on the morning breeze. “My brother says the same thing. I suggest we make the best of the situation. Tour the island together. We did agree to a truce, remember?”

  “Yes, but I thought that meant we’d stop trying to drive each other crazy, not that we’d become besties and go sightseeing together.”

  “We’re both adults. We can spend a few hours together without killing each other.”

  Or screwing each other, if he could keep his hands to himself and his dick in his pants.

  “I can if you can.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulder and pulled out a dog-eared guidebook, leafing through it as she spoke. “So, what should we do first? Stroll through the Piazetta? Climb Monte Solato? Swim in the Blue Grotto?”

  “Put that away.” He took the book from her and snapped it shut.

  “Hey, I was reading that.”

  She reached for the book, but he pulled it away.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She brushed a lock of hair off her face and squinted at him. “That depends.” />
  “On what?”

  “On what I’m supposed to trust you with.”

  “Our itinerary for the day. No guidebooks. No maps. No using your phone to search the internet.” He held the book back out to her. “Deal?”

  “Deal.” She took the book and stuffed it back into her bag. “So what’s the plan?”

  “You have to trust me, remember?”

  “Fine.” She hitched the backpack up onto her shoulder and leaned on the railing. “But no museums or architecturally interesting churches, okay? That’s a little too close to work for me. And I want today to be just for fun.”

  “I think I can handle that.” He rested against the railing next to her and bent to retrieve his cell phone from the carry-all at his feet, an idea beginning to form. He’d need a little help to pull it off. And he knew just the person for the job.

  Less than half an hour later, they were on the dock in Capri, standing in front of a blue and white cabin cruiser with Prima Donna stenciled in gold leaf on the transom. A man’s head popped up from below deck. When he spotted Dante, he jumped out of the boat.

  “Ciao.” He grabbed Dante in a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “It’s good to see you.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Gianni.” Dante returned the hug. “Thanks for agreeing to take us out on such short notice.”

  “You’re lucky. My charter canceled at the last minute, or I would have been halfway to Sorrento by now.”

  Zoe looked from one man to the other. “So this is who you were texting on the ferry.”

  “And you must be Zoe. Dante said this is your first visit to our little island. Glad to have you aboard.”

  Gianni lifted her hand, kissing it. She blushed, no doubt awed by his wide, winning smile and shirtless torso, tanned and muscled from years of working on the water. Gianni had had that effect on women since birth. He was all happy-go-lucky charm and lighthearted charisma. The consummate good-time guy.

  In short, everything Dante wasn’t.

  He clenched his jaw against the irrational wave of jealousy threatening to swamp him. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  But that ship had sailed, at least metaphorically speaking. It was too late to turn back now. He’d have to grit his teeth and bear it.

  “Let me take that for you.” Gianni motioned to Zoe’s backpack.

  “Thanks.” She slid it off her shoulder.

  “I’ve got it.” Dante snatched the bag and stepped onto the boat, his jaw still tight and his gut churning. “Let’s go.”

  Gianni hopped in after him. “Always in such a hurry. That’s what happens when you’re a big-time businessman. Me, I prefer the simple life. Blue skies, open ocean, and a beautiful woman to share it with.”

  Dante seethed silently as Gianni held out a hand to Zoe and helped her on board.

  “How do you two know each other?” she asked, sitting on a bench seat in front of the transom and crossing those long, lean legs that made him want to throw Gianni overboard, carry her below deck, and wrap them around his waist.

  “We’re cousins.” Gianni slung an arm around Dante.

  “We’re not cousins.” He shrugged Gianni off and took a seat next to Zoe.

  “We might as well be,” Gianni countered, his sunny smile never fading. “Our grandmothers were like sisters. They grew up next door to each other. Spent years traveling Europe together as fashion models.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “Your grandmother was a model?”

  He was right. This was a bad idea. Things were getting far too personal. If he wasn’t careful, they’d be swapping stories and spilling secrets that were best kept hidden.

  Like Nicole.

  He glared at his friend. “Are we going to sit here at the dock and gossip like a bunch of old ladies all day, or are we going to get underway?”

  “Where to?” Zoe rubbed her hands together. Her nervous excitement lessened the sting of having his flirtatious friend along for the ride. “The Blue Grotto? I read about it in the guidebook. It said—”

  Dante held up a hand, cutting her off. “What did I tell you about the guidebook?”

  “No guidebook, no maps, no internet,” she recited in a monotone, ticking them off on her fingers. “You’re killing me with the suspense.”

  “Don’t worry.” Gianni started the engine and moved to the bow of the boat to cast off. “I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

  He took the helm and steered the boat away from the dock, navigating out of the crowded harbor and weaving around everything from luxury yachts to tiny gozzos, traditional wooden boats popular with tourists.

  Dante handed Zoe’s bag back to her. “Did you bring a bathing suit?”

  She nodded, blond strands blowing into her face as the cabin cruiser reached open water and picked up speed. She pulled a neon green hair tie from a pocket in her sundress and gathered her hair into a messy ponytail.

  “Good.” He pointed to the glossy teak door that led down to the galley and sleeping quarters. “You might want to go below and change before we drop anchor.”

  “We’re going swimming?” She uncrossed her legs and rested her elbows on her knees. He could smell the tropical, fruity, coconut scent of the suntan lotion she’d spent an agonizingly long time applying on the ferry ride.

  “Possibly.”

  “Tease.”

  “Definitely.”

  She let out a low, throaty laugh that had him half wishing they were alone and half thanking the powers that be they weren’t. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and disappeared through the door. She hadn’t been gone thirty seconds before Gianni started the inquisition.

  “So this girl—”

  “She’s a woman,” Dante snapped at his friend’s back.

  “So I’ve noticed.” Gianni turned his head and wagged his eyebrows suggestively, raising Dante’s blood pressure another degree.

  “Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

  “Does it look like we’re in danger of running into anything out here?” Gianni waved an arm at the acres of clear, iridescent water in front of them.

  Dante shrugged. “You never know what’s under the surface.”

  “I could say the same thing about you and Zoe,” Gianni shot back, returning his attention to piloting the boat.

  Dante rose and moved to stand next to his friend at the helm. Shouting over the noise of the engine was getting old. And he didn’t need or want Zoe to hear any part of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. “She’s renting Bella Vista from my grandmother. That’s it. There’s nothing under the surface.”

  Gianni rolled his eyes. “I’m not blind. I see the way you look at each other. And the way you tense up like a coiled spring about to pop when I so much as touch her.”

  “She’s a nice girl. You’re a player. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

  “I thought you said she was a woman.”

  “Just do me a favor and leave her alone. Hands off.”

  “I’ll leave her alone if you man up and admit you want her for yourself.”

  The cabin door opened, and Zoe stepped out, cutting their conversation short in one of her dental floss bikinis, canary yellow with strings that tied around her neck and back and at her hips. Gianni let out a low wolf whistle, which prompted a sharp jab to the ribs from Dante.

  “Hands off,” he hissed under his breath.

  “Man up,” Gianni muttered back through clenched teeth.

  “Everything okay?” Zoe asked, digging through her bag and pulling out a pair of retro tortoiseshell sunglasses.

  “Fine,” Dante and Gianni answered in unison.

  She eyed them suspiciously, then donned her sunglasses and brushed past them to sit back on the bench seat.

  Gianni slowed the engine and pointed to an in
let off to their right. “I can drop anchor in that cove. You’ll have to swim into the grotto from there.”

  “So we are going to the Blue Grotto.” Zoe took a tube of sunscreen out of her bag before dropping it at her feet. “Sweet.”

  “That place is filled with tourists. This”—Dante waved an arm in a wide circle—“is the Grotta Verde. It’s more secluded. More private.”

  Which seemed like a good idea at the time. But now, as he watched her slather sunscreen all over the newly exposed portions of her nearly naked body, he wasn’t so sure.

  “Grotta Verde?” she echoed.

  “The Green Grotto. And before you break out the guidebook, I can tell you that it gets its name from the green light that filters through the water and reflects onto the walls. Rumor has it that it was used by pirates during the 1500s to launch surprise attacks against passing ships.”

  “You sound like you swallowed the guidebook.” Zoe squirted another glob of sunscreen into her palm and rubbed it on her elegant neck and gently sloping shoulders. The unintentionally seductive move had his dick straining harder against his shorts.

  “I’ve spent half my life on these waters. I could have written the guidebook.” Dante bent to retrieve his carry-all, which he had stowed under one of the gunwales. “I’d better get my suit on. We’ll be there soon.”

  Not soon enough, if you asked him. The sun hung high in the mid-afternoon sky, beating down on them with an intensity that rivaled the inside of one of his restaurants’ commercial ovens. A refreshing dip in the Mediterranean was just what he needed to cool off his superheated skin.

  And his out-of-control libido.

  …

  “That. Was. Amazing,” Zoe said, drawing out the last word for extra emphasis as she grabbed onto the ladder to board the Prima Donna.

  Swimming through the grotto had been a surreal experience. Dante hadn’t been kidding about the green glow. For almost an hour, they’d floated peacefully in the mossy haze among the stalactites and stalagmites, sometimes talking but mostly not, silently appreciating the stunning scenery. She liked the fact that he hadn’t felt compelled to engage in idle conversation, letting her take in nature’s beauty without distractions.