Nicolo: The Powerful Sicilian

He could kiss her again, right now, and try to unravel the mystery….

Instead, he took a quick step back.

“Okay,” he said briskly. “Okay, if you don’t have a second part to this presentation, I do.”

She looked up at him. “I told you, there is a second part. Tonight’s dinner.”

“Is your closet only an adjunct to the local Armani shop?”

She blinked. “Scusi?”

“Do you own anything except those suits?”

Alessia looked down at herself, then back at him.

“Sì. Yes. But I don’t under—”

“You grew up on those acres of grapes, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course, but—”

“I want a tour. With you as my guide, not the viniculturist or the vintner or anybody else. Put on jeans or whatever it is you wear when you’re being a real person.”

“I beg your pardon, signore! I am a real—”

“A real person,” he said firmly, and he laughed at the indignant expression on her lovely face and then he stopped laughing and did exactly what he’d told himself he would not do—reached for her, gathered her against him, kissed her—and it took less than a second before she moaned, rose to him and parted her lips to his.

It wasn’t enough.

Nick cursed, slid his hands under her skirt, bunched it at her thighs and felt her shudder. She whispered something in soft, frantic Italian and she wrapped her arms around him, dug her hands into his hair as he slid his hands down into her panties, cupped her bottom, brought her tightly against him and she moaned again at the feel of his erection—

A knock sounded at the door.

“Principessa?”

The chauffeur. Alessia shoved her hands against Nick’s chest. He drew her even closer.

“Send him away.”

“Principessa? You said two hours. I have told that to the carabiniere but he threatens me with uno biglietto.”

“You’re a princess,” Nick whispered. “How can you get a parking ticket?”

Alessia gave a soft laugh. It made him smile. That he could make her laugh seemed almost as important as that he could make her melt in his arms.

“I understand, Guillermo,” she said loudly. “Go down and wait for us, please. We’ll be there in a moment.”

“Alessia…”

She shook her head, pressed her hands lightly against Nick’s chest and he gave in to the inevitable and let her step free of his embrace. She smoothed her hair, her jacket, her skirt. Then she opened the door and Nick followed her into the elevator. Just before the doors opened, he gave in to instinct, pulled her against him and gave her a hard, deep kiss.

“This isn’t over,” he said against her mouth.

“Yes,” she said in a tone that didn’t match the race of her heart against his, “it is. I shall see you tonight. Seven o’clock, in the—”

“You’re taking me on a guided tour of the vineyard.”

“Listen to me, Nicolo…”