Bought by Her Italian Boss

An arc of dangerous fire flashed in his gaze again. “Have you come up against a lot of sexism in your life?”

“Is there an amount that’s reasonable and acceptable?”

They were approached by someone else, stealing her moment of possibly taking him aback. They spent the next hour mingling. It wasn’t awful, but she was tongue-tied and Vito kept stealing her champagne, setting the flutes out of her reach and giving her sparkling water or fruit juice in exchange.

“If you don’t let me drink,” she said at one point, fake smile pinned to her face, “people are going to think I’m pregnant. Surely I’ve hit the redline on scandal for one day?”

“I’m letting you drink. I’m just not letting you get drunk. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“I highly doubt you’ll ever hear those words out of these lips,” she assured him.

“We’ll see,” he said, catching at the hand she reached to the passing tray and tugging her in the opposite direction. “Come.”

“Where?”

He only drew her from the main deck where glass panels provided a windbreak, keeping the laughing, dancing crowd contained in a pool of colorful light off a rotating mirror ball. A musician who had risen to fame three decades ago was going strong, shredding the piano, playing with a band of indie rockers on guitars and drums.

Vito tugged her down a narrow flight of stairs to where a cool gust raced along the lower deck, making her cross her arms as the chill hit her in the face.

“It did get windy,” she said, hanging back in the alcove at the bottom of the stairs.

He removed his taupe linen jacket and draped it over her shoulders, enveloping her in a scent that was both his and something else. His cousin’s aftershave, maybe, because he’d also raided the closets in the master bedroom. “We have work to do, now that you’ve relaxed.”

“What kind?”

He drew her toward the stern where foam kicked up in a widening trail behind the yacht. The rush of wind and churning water filled the air. Pinprick lights from distant houses danced against the black silhouettes of the mountain-backed shoreline.

And a handful of smaller boats paced this big one, bouncing on its wake, buzzing like mosquitos. Something flashed. A camera.

“Oh.”

“Sì,” he confirmed. “We are stealing a kiss, mia bella.”

“You can try,” she said stiffly, turning her head to glare at him with antagonism, hands on the rail. “I’ve about had it with being robbed of things I’m not willing to give up. This cruise could get very rough indeed.”

He leaned his back into the rail and set his feet wide, then indicated she should come into the space. “I’m offering a kiss,” he cajoled, surprising her with his tender tone. “Would it be such a chore for you to accept it?”

A spasm of pain went through her, increasing when she saw another flash and suspected her moment of torment had just been caught and would be fed to the online trolls.

She found herself ducking her head, letting him draw her into his chest in an embrace that she knew he staged to look tender, but it felt tender. Like a place of shelter. She was on her very last nerve and desperately wanted to believe she was safe with him, but she couldn’t. Not by a long shot.

“I don’t kiss strangers,” she muttered into his chest.

He smoothed her hair behind her ear and his breath warmed her cheek as he spoke. “We’re lovers, mia bella.”

In her periphery, more flashes were sparking, but maybe that was the electric reaction he provoked in her.

“You don’t even find me attractive. Can you imagine how it feels to kiss someone you know feels nothing for you? Actually it’s worse than that. You feel contempt. This is not a nice place to be. I can’t pretend to be okay with it.”

His hands stilled on her. “Have you had many lovers, Gwyn? You keep surprising me with what sounds like naivety.”

“How is it naive to know that all these seduction moves of yours are motivated by a desire to protect the bank, that you’re actually overcoming disgust to touch me?” She lifted her face to glare at him, unable to read his face in the dark. “Are you going to tell me next that I’m being too cynical?” She nearly choked on her own words. She was growing weak just standing against his body heat, reacting to him even though she knew he felt nothing toward her. This was so unequal.

“You’re a very beautiful woman. You must know that.” He rested the heel of his hand on her shoulder, fingertips toying at her nape beneath the fall of her hair.

The caress was so beguiling, the words so throaty, her whole body responded. Her knees weakened, her skin tightened and her nipples prickled. Deep between her thighs, damp heat gathered. Her breath hitched.