The Sicilian's Bought Cinderella

The interior of Dante’s house was so incredible that she was curious to see what he’d done with the roof. ‘Sure, but no more coffee.’

He grinned and showed the way to a side door that led out to an external metal staircase.

The hours they’d spent in the pizzeria had flown by. Once they’d eaten they’d stayed at their table, drunk gallons of coffee and set about getting to know each other.

Dante had told her about growing up in Palermo. He’d lived in the family home in a villa by the beach but it had been in the city itself he’d felt the most comfortable, roaming in packs with his friends, all of them trying to look cool to get the girls’ attention and trying to convince bar owners they were old enough to drink. He’d then explained how he’d formed and grown his business empire and his determination to break into America.

Hearing about his jet-set life and achievements only made Aislin feel inadequate with what she had accomplished, which, when you took a hard-nosed look at it, was not much at all.

He hadn’t made her feel unaccomplished, though.

She’d talked of her own childhood, her friends, her closeness to Orla, her love of musicals and soap operas, her fascination with bloodthirsty medieval Europe, learning to ride a bike with her granddad before he’d died, attending weekly mass with her grandmother—all the most fertile memories of her life. Dante had listened hard, his eyes never leaving her face. She knew it was because he had to remember these things and not out of genuine interest but still...

What woman’s head wouldn’t be turned by a gorgeous man paying such attention to her?

And then she stepped onto the roof terrace and her head was turned some more.

The late-afternoon sun warm on her bare shoulders, she gazed in amazement at the magnificent view of Palermo’s colourful streets and medieval landmarks. The vista before her led all the way in the distance to the glimmering sea.

Then she turned her attention to the terrace itself. Encompassing the entire roof, it contained a huge swimming pool and adjoining hot tub, a bar that would have put an Irish pub to shame, the biggest barbecue she had ever seen, a dance area and lots of seating, ranging from sun loungers to hammocks to plump sofas scattered strategically, some in the sun, some sheltered beneath beautiful wooden gazebos. Dante might be lacking a garden but there was no lacking of greenery, the terrace given privacy by encircling hedges and trees.

She could easily imagine the decadent parties he hosted up here.

Jugs of fruit juice were brought out to them, the staff member then taking a seat behind the bar, on hand for any further refreshments they might require.

‘This is like another world,’ Aislin said with a sigh, then nodded at a hammock tied between two palm trees. ‘Can I go in that?’

Dante spread his palms. ‘You don’t have to ask. Do you know how to get into it?’

‘Nope.’

‘I’ll show you.’

The elegance of his movements as he got himself effortlessly into it made her heart do a strange clenching motion, but there was no time to worry about it, because a moment later he was back on his feet indicating for her to try.

She spread her arms out to hold the rope and placed her bottom in the centre as he’d shown. Then she swung her legs round quickly, but must have got her balance wrong, for she would have toppled out of it had Dante not leapt forward to steady her.

‘It takes practice.’ His warm breath danced through her hair.

Suddenly she was very much aware of the heat of his body against hers, the strong arm supporting her bottom under the hammock, the chest leaning over her to catch the other side.

Aislin’s grip on the hammock tightened as his scent surrounded her and filtered through her senses. Her heart rate accelerated, all the effects strengthening when he made some adjustments and shifted her weight as if she were as light as a newborn. The blood roaring in her ears was so loud that at first she missed his instruction to lie back.

Breathing heavily, she did as she was told and had to bite back the demand that he let her go right now.

But then he loosened his hold and she had to bite back a plaintive wail for him to keep hold of her.

Disorientated and confused by what was happening to her, it took a moment to realise she was lying in the hammock unsupported.

Dante turned his back on her and forced air into his constricted lungs, disturbed by the heated reactions assailing him.

He drank a glass of juice slowly, gathering himself together, willing his heartbeat to regulate itself, willing his body back under control.

These reactions were the normal responses of a healthy man around a beautiful woman. It was his misfortune that this particular beautiful woman was one he could not touch.

Dio, she smelt incredible...

Inhaling deeply, he seated himself at the round table nearest the hammock and said, ‘Tell me about your university days.’