Nicolo: The Powerful Sicilian

“There’s nothing more to this than you see, signore,” she said coolly. “I’m just a good Tuscan daughter, determined to do all I can for my papa.”

Nicolo’s mouth twisted. He let go of her, walked back into the conference room with Alessia behind him.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “tell me what I need to know.”

The manager spoke in glowing terms of the land. The viniculturist talked excitedly of what he would do to improve the vines, given the money and the time. The vintner talked of past vintages, of future ones, of how he could return Antoninni Wines to their past glories.

Then there was silence. Even Alessia held her breath.

Nick smiled. “I’m impressed. Not just impressed, I’m pleased.” He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. So did the others, including Alessia. “If I go through with this deal, signori, I’ll want you all to stay on.”

Beaming smiles. Handshakes. The men trooped out of the room and Nick turned, folded his arms and leaned back against the table, the look in his eyes indecipherable.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the rest of the sell.”

“The rest of the…the presentation? That was all of it. Well, you will meet the mayor tonight and some others who live nearby, but—”

“Aren’t you going to make a pitch, too?”

Her chin rose. His tone was insulting; they both knew it.

“The pitch, as you call it, was just made, signore.”

“Really?” He unwound from where he stood. There was no other word to describe the lazy straightening of that long, muscular male body, or the slow way he came toward her. “Because it occurs to me, princess, that you might be part of the sell.”

“That I…?” Her head jerked up. “I have no idea what you mean.”

But she did. He could see it in her eyes as he reached out and drew a slow finger down her face, down her throat, pausing just at the demure V-neck of her silk blouse.

“Those kisses. The little moans—”

“There have been no moans, little or otherwise,” she snapped, slapping his hand away.

Nick said nothing. How come he hadn’t thought of it sooner? The idea had come to him while the accountant and the attorney were doing their little dance, trying to convince him the prince wasn’t as desperate for money as Nick already knew he was, thanks to what his father had told him and thanks, too, to some quiet checking he’d done on his own.

“But there have been kisses, princess. You won’t deny that.”

“Kisses you instigated.”

“Kisses you responded to.”

“Only because I did not expect them!”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “You always kiss a man back when he unexpectedly kisses you?”

“I did not mean that at all!”

No, he thought, he was pretty sure she hadn’t meant that, pretty sure that the Ice Princess wouldn’t return a man’s kiss unless her hormones had taken over for her head.

She’d set this meeting here so she could remind him of who he was as compared to who she was. He was onto all that and it certainly didn’t improve his attitude toward her.

So why, despite those things, did she melt when he kissed her? Hell, why did he react the same way, losing sight of everything except the urgent need to get her into bed?

None of it made sense…unless the touch me, don’t touch me routine was part of the scheme, part of making him crazy enough to go along with whatever she and her old man wanted.