The moment the door opened, her stomach did a slow somersault, the way it often did when Vittorio first walked into a room. Every time, she found herself staring at his wide shoulders and defined chest. He walked like she imagined a panther might stalk prey, fluid and powerful, giving the illusion of danger, though she knew him to be gentle and kind.
He flashed his heart-stopping smile, those indigo eyes drifting over her, taking in every detail. She knew he saw everything about her, because he always knew what she wanted or needed. It didn’t matter that she tried to keep from him how much just dressing wore her out; he would see it. That was both disconcerting and exhilarating.
“Good morning, gattina. You look better this morning. Your color is good.”
“Good morning, Vittorio.” She knew he preferred her to acknowledge his greeting. It was a small enough courtesy to give when he was doing so much for her. “I think cutting back even more on the pain medication helped. I feel much more alert and able to handle things.” She wanted to make that clear. She didn’t want to be a burden on him. She’d already taken up three weeks of his time.
“That’s good. I thought you might prefer to have breakfast in the kitchen. You haven’t really had time to explore, and I want you to feel at home here.” He held out his hand.
Grace did her best to try to be that woman who helped run a multimillion-dollar-a-year business, but when she was around him, she liked that feeling he gave her of taking care of her. She’d never had anyone take real care of her. He focused completely on her and saw to her every need. She told herself every day that she shouldn’t want that, that she was independent and could do for herself—but so far, she hadn’t convinced herself.
At her job, she saw to every detail behind the scenes of every event and had absolute confidence in herself. She did the ordering and was insistent about getting exactly what their clients asked for—and on time. She’d earned a reputation as a strong, exacting businesswoman who let nothing and nobody stand in her way when it came to ensuring that KB’s venues were the absolute best and worth every penny they charged.
But she wasn’t that woman around Vittorio. She was wholly a woman, totally attracted, and more, glowing in his care. The fact that she liked having a man care for her shocked her. She didn’t want to get used to that much attention. It was too addictive. Already, he’d ruined her for any other man. She would always compare every man she met to him—and no other would fare very well.
Vittorio stood in the doorway, his hand out to her, and watched her cross the room to him. He didn’t take his gaze from her face, and his expression sent heat curling through her body to pool low. His fingers wrapped around hers, that first touch of his strong hand making her heart beat faster. The way he drew her so gently to him felt like care. He bent his head slowly to hers, always giving her time to withdraw—which she knew she should but never did.
She waited. Anticipated. His lips were sensual. Perfect. Those beautiful eyes were framed with long, thick black lashes. He was—gorgeous was the only adjective that came to mind. She almost went up on her toes. She had enough dignity not to, but she did lift her face to his. His mouth skimmed hers. The briefest of touches. It didn’t matter that the kiss was brief, the effect on her was instantaneous.
Fireworks exploded in her veins—in her belly. Electricity short-circuited, zapping her, so every nerve ending sparked hot and wild. Liquid heat raced through her body, spreading like a wildfire. From a touch. One touch. She couldn’t look at him when he lifted his head. She lowered her lashes to veil her expression. Vittorio’s hand cupped her chin and lifted her face so, in spite of her intentions, her gaze jumped to his. Immediately she felt like she was drowning in all that dark, beautiful blue. There was no hiding from him. He never allowed it.
“What is it, Grace?”
Even his low voice was sexy to her. How was she going to explain that to him? She had to work to suppress a groan, feeling a little foolish. She’d saved his life and he was repaying her by taking care of her. She was falling fast, probably, if she had to be logical, because no one had ever made her feel safe or cared for. He’d done both and on top of that, he made her feel like a beautiful, desirable woman.
A million ways to deceive him rushed through her head, but she didn’t like the idea. He’d been good to her. Careful of her. Even to the point of deflecting all talk about the photograph Haydon had left behind, the way he’d done it, and what it meant. She decided on the truth no matter how embarrassing—and it was.