Decadent (Dirty Sexy Rich 3)

“And what exactly do you feel you need to do that requires privacy?” she asked.

“Apologize,” I answered with as much humility as I could muster.

Alessandra folded her arms across her chest with a small smile. “And what are you apologizing for? How you live your life is not for me to say. I could not care less how you conduct yourself.”

“And here I thought we were going for honesty,” I chided.

She shrugged. “I have no reason to lie. You mean nothing to me.”

“Ouch. Well, I wasn’t expecting to run to Gretna Green for a quickie marriage or anything but I did believe we shared some good times. Times I’d like to continue while I’m here.”

At that, her assistant made a sound of disgust as he got up and walked out. The knowing smile on my lips only served to compress hers to a fine line. She knew the problem with her assistant was one of her own making, but I wasn’t going to bust her too hard on that score. “You are a pain in the ass,” she said.

“But that ass, though,” I said with a devilish grin that I knew she couldn’t resist. That Donato charm was something of legend. Now I understood why Nico had never shied away from turning it on. “Don’t try to tell me that you don’t want to take a bite.”

She cracked a small, grudging smile but Alessandra didn’t cave easily. “While I appreciate your humor I have work to do and you just made my work that much more difficult with your little display.”

“Maybe it’s time to clean house,” I said, shrugging. I could give two shits about her assistant’s unrequited love pangs. “Not trying to tell you how to run your business but that seems messy.” Her glacial expression told me she wasn’t amused. I grinned in the face of her irritation. “Come play hooky with me,” I said.

“Only you could misinterpret a plainly unwelcome vibe into something else,” she muttered but I could sense she wanted to drop whatever she was doing and leave. I’d say that was a good sign but it counted only if she actually came with me. “Unlike you, I’m not on vacation. I have work to do.” She paused, her gaze narrowing in question. “Out of curiosity, what did you have in mind?”

“A walking tour of Siena,” I answered, my eyebrows waggling like an overeager tour guide. At that she laughed and my grin broadened. I had her interested. “You game?”

“I have an apartment in Siena. Why would I want to do a walking tour?”

“Because if you’re anything like me, you’ve never played tourist, not even in your own city. You might discover things you never knew were interesting right beneath your nose.”

I had her intrigued. “Siena is a beautiful place. I’m sure there are plenty of interesting places to discover,” she admitted but then said, “However, I don’t have time to entertain you. Find someone else to play tour guide.”

I pulled a brochure from my pocket and opened it with flourish. “Ha! Our tour comes with a guide. All you need is good walking shoes. Personally, I’m intrigued by the eighteenth-century history and I’ve been assured that our guide is well versed in ancient history, so we should enjoy many unscripted anecdotes about life in ancient Siena. Now, doesn’t that sound far more fun than whatever you’re doing right now?”

Whatever she was working on had put a furrow in her brow. I could fairly see the tension in her shoulders. I wanted to work out those knots with my hands just for the excuse of being able to roam her body...and maybe get some information about the Baroni family business along the way. I needed to find a weak spot—anything I could, really—that would put me at an advantage to get her to sell. “It would be a nice change of pace,” she admitted, almost to herself, but she wasn’t about to stop. The woman had an admirable iron will. It was a shame my father was so intent on taking her winery. I had a feeling he would like her. Or they would shred each other to pieces. Either way, the display would be spectacular.

Alessandra leaned back in her chair, regarding me openly with amusement. “So, back home, are you this easily distracted? I can’t imagine that you get much work done.”

At home I was nothing like this. I was a workaholic. “No,” I admitted. “I’m like you. I work from sunup to sundown. I rarely take vacations and I don’t have a lot of friends.” What had started out as a sardonic quip ended with stark honesty that struck a deep chord inside me. When had that happened? When had I lost all sense of balance in my life? Since being here in Italy, I’d actually enjoyed my downtime, taking a break from the work I was usually hardwired to do. Well, there would be time enough to return to the grind when I was back in the States. “But I’m not at home. I’m here and I want to spend every moment with you. Naked or otherwise.”

Her cheeks colored and her teeth worried her bottom lip as she tried not to smile, but I could see through her. Maybe I should’ve just bypassed the walking tour and invited her to spend the day in bed. We seemed to have a lot in common between the sheets and there was little to argue when our mouths (and other parts) were otherwise occupied.

“You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

She wasn’t going to budge. Time to switch up strategies. “Okay, all kidding aside, I know it’s probably too much to spring a walking tour on you at the last minute but it wouldn’t hurt you to change the scenery for an hour or two, would it?”

“An hour or two?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.” She crossed her arms and regarded me with a subtle smile. “And what exactly did you have in mind to do for this hour or two?”

I had to think fast. “Actually, I’d enjoy a tour of Castello di Baroni.”

She snorted. “There are guided tours for that. If you check with the gift shop they’ll let you know when the next tour starts.”

“I’m not interested in the tourist version. I want the family version.”

“You aren’t family.”

“Maybe not but my family did build this place and, what can I say, I’m curious.” I grinned. “Give me the private tour.”

“You are so damn presumptuous.”

“And persistent,” I added for her and she laughed. “You know I’m right.”

Alessandra sighed and closed her laptop. “Fine. One hour, nothing more.”

I didn’t even try to hide my triumph and when she tried to walk past me, I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight, immediately springing to attention the minute those lush curves settled against the hard planes of my body. “Should I admit that you’re the hottest tour guide I’ve ever seen?” I said right before sealing my mouth to hers.

Her tongue met mine with an urgency that belied her casually annoyed attitude at my untimely intrusion into her day. I saw through her prot

ests and felt with my body how she craved mine. We were the same, even if we were worlds apart geographically.

Which was why she would ultimately understand that there was room for only one victor in this game.

And it would be me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Alessandra

HE HAD THIS way about him—something that twisted and turned inside my psyche, rendering me unable to say no, even when I should. That was all I could say in my own defense as I closed up my office with a short note written to Como and led Dante on a private tour of my family home.

Sometimes I forgot how the property must look to fresh eyes. For me, it was simply home but it was truly massive. The largest property in the Chianti Classico region, our property dominated the rolling hills and stretched for 1,200 hectares with vineyards and olive groves.

But not all of the manor was in great shape. We’d closed off sections of it for safety purposes as repairs were needed to make them habitable; however, it was a lower priority because our family wasn’t as prolific as it once was and it simply wasn’t needed.

However, there was a section of the manor that had always been a favorite play place for me as a child and it was still relatively safe, even though it wasn’t in great shape.

Slipping my hand into Dante’s, I led him down the curving stone staircase and toward the northern section of the manor. The front door looked straight out of medieval times with its metal bracing and old-fashioned key and lock. I unlocked it and gave the solid wood door a hard push as it groaned in protest. The smell of mildew and time tickled my nose and I glanced back at Dante with a beguiling smile. “Still want the tour?”

“Hell yes, this is fantastic,” he said, surprising me with genuine interest as he took in the history of the architecture and the creep of decay. “How old is this section of the manor?”

“It wasn’t part of the original build so we think it was built sometime in the eighteen hundreds, but records have been unreliable. Our best guess is as good as we can come to the actual timeline.”