The Italian's Virgin Acquisition

If anyone deserved it less, it was Sebastiano but, as Poppy had made him realise, he was the only one who could take over, and his grandfather needed to retire. He’d have been retired already if Sebastiano hadn’t taken his eldest son from him: Sebastiano’s own father.

He clenched his jaw as anger and self-loathing twisted like a tight, bitter knot inside him, threatening to pull him under. He’d been a snivelling little brat the night of the accident that had led to his parents’ deaths, and he’d never let himself forget it.

Maledizione.

What had made him think that it would be okay to be back here? On this day? He’d mistakenly thought it would prove that he had put the guilt of his past behind him, but it had only proved the opposite. He just thanked God that there were no photos of him and his parents on his nonna’s photo wall. Was that for his benefit, or for theirs?

He shook the sweat from his eyes and forced himself to sprint up the last steep incline towards the villa. But still the memories of that fateful day intruded into his consciousness like a jackhammer smashing through a slab of concrete.

In the days after his parents’ accident when none of it had seemed real he’d walked along these hilltops until he was falling over with exhaustion, his grandparents’ old Retriever keeping him company and licking away the tears he’d been unable to suppress. He’d unburdened himself on that poor old dog and a month later she too had died. No doubt from all the misery he had heaped on her. It was the only time he had let himself wallow.

Since then he’d kept to himself, working for his grandfather and branching out on his own, growing SJC into a global concern. It was something to be proud of, and he was. The company employed thousands of people around the world, but still something nagged at him. Some hollow sensation he knew would only be satisfied when he took control of CE.

Firmly resolved to focus only on his end goal, and not what sex with Poppy Connolly would be like, Sebastiano rounded the corner of the villa and spotted his grandparents, Nicolette and Poppy breakfasting on the sheltered outdoor terrace. They didn’t notice him at first, their eyes focused on a gift his grandmother was unwrapping. Poppy tucked a strand of ash-brown hair behind her ear and bit into her bottom lip, and immediately the painful memories that had assailed him on his run were replaced with a much more pleasurable sort. The feel of her lips against his. Her breast in his hand.

He immediately wanted to drag her upstairs, strip the bulky sweater and jeans from her body and turn his midnight fantasies into reality.

Dio mio, Castiglione, did that run sort nothing out in your head?

‘Bastian? Come join us,’ his grandfather said, finally noticing him. ‘Poppy has just given us a beautiful gift for our anniversary.’

Sebastiano’s gut clenched. She had brought his grandparents a gift?

‘It’s exquisite,’ Nicolette said. ‘Who’s the designer?’

A becoming flush highlighted Poppy’s cheeks. Sebastiano glanced at the delicate glass-blown figurine his grandmother was carefully inspecting. It was of a horse with wings—at once whimsical and evocative. ‘It’s not from any particular design house; Simon did it.’

‘Your brother? He’s so talented,’ Nicolette gushed.

‘That’s nice of you to say,’ Poppy commented. ‘I think he is too, but it’s just a hobby at this stage. I took him to a glass works exhibition at the Tate Modern last year and he’s become obsessed.’

Casting a cursory glance at the piece his family was admiring, Sebastiano stepped closer to Poppy. Immediately her eyes cut to his, a blush staining her cheeks. She went still and all his senses homed in on her. He’d bet that she was remembering their explosive connection the night before and he wasn’t traditionally a betting man. ‘Buongiorno, Poppy,’ he said, barely stopping himself from reaching for her to find out. ‘You’re up early.’

‘I... I couldn’t sleep,’ she admitted, then, realising that they had a rapt audience, added, ‘After you left.’

He lightly gripped the nape of her neck beneath the fall of her hair and felt her body quiver. A swift, answering response made his throb. ‘I didn’

t want to disturb you,’ he murmured as if he really had just left her bed.

‘The coffee has just been poured,’ his grandmother pointed out. ‘Let me get you a cup.’

‘That’s fine, Nonna.’ Sebastiano stayed her. ‘I have to take a shower before I sweat all over Poppy. Nonno, what time do you want to meet today?’

‘Ah, already your head is in business. This is why you are so successful, nipote mio, but also why you need Poppy by your side. You risk becoming less human.’

‘I’m human,’ Sebastiano ground out. Right now he was having a very human reaction to the woman seated so serenely at his family’s breakfast table.

‘Speaking of plans for the day, Bastian,’ Nicolette said, ‘I’ve asked Poppy if she’d like to come sailing on Destino. I thought it would be nice to show her some of the Riviera since you’re going to be in meetings all day. And she’s never been on a boat before. It will be her first time.’

Somehow the words first time stirred something in his Italian blood and, remembering Poppy’s words from the day before about how ‘focused’ he was, Sebastiano found himself announcing that it was a great idea but that he would take her himself.

Poppy immediately objected, saying that she understood he was here to work and not entertain her. She sounded sincere but Sebastiano heard a note of panic in her voice and guessed that her reticence had more to do with last night’s kiss than any altruistic concerns for his business goals. Certainly she had barely looked at him since he’d arrived on the terrace, and he didn’t like it.

‘Va bene, va bene,’ his grandfather chimed in. ‘Why do not we all go? We don’t need an office to talk business and the house is about to be overrun with preparations for the party tonight.’

Unable to fault his grandfather’s logic, especially with his grandmother’s murmured approval, Sebastiano nearly groaned out loud. First he’d made a suggestion he hadn’t meant to make, and now he and Poppy would be under scrutiny the whole time. Not that they wouldn’t have been anyway with Nicolette present, but his grandparents were far more astute than his bubbly cousin.

‘Terrific,’ he said, grabbing a pastry from the breadbasket. ‘Let me take a shower.’