Surrendering to the Vengeful Italian

Though not nearly as much as he’d enjoyed putting his hands on her.

His fingers curled at the memory of her skin’s heat penetrating his palms through her thin blouse and the way her nipples had pebbled in response to his touch. At some point the vibrant girl with her bold colours and creative ambitions had given way to a woman too content with mediocrity, yet he’d seen a spark of fire in her blue eyes that convinced him some remnant of that passionate, captivating girl still existed.

A flash of reflected sunlight at the edge of the Tarmac caught his eye and he squinted into the lowering sun. A silver SUV with tinted windows approached, cruising to a stop in the traffic safety zone alongside the aircraft hangar. The driver sprang from the vehicle and made for the other side, but his passenger had already climbed out. Smiling at the man, her loose curls tossed by the evening breeze, she spoke a few words Leo strained to hear but couldn’t catch from where he stood.

He sucked in his breath, the edgy, irritable mood that had plagued him all day dissipating beneath an entirely different kind of tension.

Dio.

Even casually attired, the woman was a breathtaking vision. A perfect combination of long, slender limbs and feminine curves in all the right places. An ache stirred deep in his groin as he watched her cross the Tarmac, her rounded breasts clearly outlined beneath her figure-hugging tee, the denim of her jeans stretched over shapely hips and slender thighs. In one hand she carried a jacket, in the other a small holdall.

He descended the steps. When she neared he took her bag, slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Her eyes widened, her mouth forming a perfect O of surprise.

‘Ciao, Helena.’ He lowered his head, intending to drop an experimental kiss on those sweet, inviting lips, but she averted her face and his mouth collided instead with her cheek.

Her body stiffened. ‘People are watching,’ she hissed.

He glanced at the men in overalls working around them, some engrossed in their tasks, others paused and openly staring.

‘So they are.’ He dragged her closer, some deep, primal instinct urging him to send a clear message to the onlookers. Mine. He turned his attention back to her mouth. ‘Perhaps we should not disappoint them?’

Her eyes narrowed to pinpricks of sapphire and she pulled in a breath, but whatever retort hovered on that pretty pink tongue she chose not to share it. Instead she twisted from his grasp and started up the steps, the mesmerising roll and sway of her hips holding his gaze captive. He tightened his grip on her bag, his amusement tempered by a sting of annoyance.

Was this how she planned to fulfil her role as his mistress? By tolerating his touch only when it suited her?

Think again, cara.

‘Drink?’ he offered after he’d stashed her bag in an overhead locker and snapped the cover closed. For a woman she travelled exceptionally light. The carry-on he’d just stowed was small and compact, the single piece of luggage the driver had removed from the SUV not much larger.

The observation gave him pause. A week ago he’d have shrugged it off, assumed she planned to hit the shops in Rome and buy an extra case to carry home her purchases. Now, after Nico’s report, he knew that scenario was unlikely. Despite her family’s enviable wealth, Helena’s lifestyle appeared modest, even frugal. A revelation he found oddly disturbing.

She tossed her jacket over a seat. ‘Yes, please.’

He moved to a built-in bar where a bottle of champagne sat chilling on ice. He filled two long-stemmed flutes, handed one to Helena and raised the other in a toast. ‘To our arrangement.’

She hesitated before touching her glass to his. The crystal sang sweetly as the rims clinked. ‘To our arrangement.’

Her head arched back on her graceful neck as she took a surprisingly long swig of the effervescent liquid. She lowered the glass, gestured a hand at the cabin’s interior.

‘You travel in style.’

He considered the gleaming mahogany fixtures, fine Italian leather and thick cut pile carpet. The expansion of his business into Asia and North America over the last few years had demanded extensive travel, and his board had deemed the corporate jet a justifiable expense.

‘You sound surprised.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s more luxurious than I’d expected.’

‘And you disapprove?’

For a second the question seemed to throw her, then her features morphed back into an aloof, dignified mask. ‘No. Of course not. It’s just...not what I’m used to these days.’

‘And what are you used to?’

Her eyebrows tugged together. ‘I don’t know. Things more...ordinary, I suppose.’

‘In that case—’ he took her glass, placed both flutes on the bar ‘—you will need to reacquaint yourself with things less...ordinary.’

He moved closer, enjoying the way her eyes flared wide, the titillating glimpse of her tongue as it darted across her lower lip. She was nervous, despite her cool, controlled demeanour. The skittering pulse at the base of her throat gave her away.