Kate Hardy - The Italians - Rico, Antonio and Giovanni - The Hidden Heart of Rico Rossi / The Moretti Seduction / The Boselli Bride

‘That figures. And the girl who told me about you seemed to respect you.’

‘Good.’ He paused. ‘You overreacted, Ella. I told you one little white lie.’

‘It was still a lie.’

‘But it wasn’t meant to hurt you. Your ex really messed with your head,’ he said. ‘Or is there more to it than that?’

‘He isn’t the only one who lied to me,’ she admitted. ‘Lying is a definite deal-breaker where I’m concerned.’

‘Supposing I promise never to tell you anything but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, from this moment on?’ he asked.

She grimaced. ‘You make it sound as if I’m putting you on trial.’

‘Isn’t that what you’re doing?’

He was the one who’d lied. How come she was the one who felt guilty? She sighed. ‘Rome—you and me—that was meant to be just fun. A fling.’

‘Absolutely. Three days of enjoying each other’s company, and we’d never have to see each other again.’

‘But now you’re here in London.’

‘On business.’

‘So why did you look me up?’

‘To prove something to myself.’

‘What?’

He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

He really didn’t like talking about himself, did he? He sidestepped questions, or even stonewalled them. She didn’t have a clue what was going on in his head. She frowned. ‘Where are you going with this? Rico, I’m just starting up my business. Right now I barely have time to sleep.’

‘I didn’t,’ he said softly, ‘have sleeping in mind.’

Pictures bloomed in her head, and heat coiled deep in her belly. ‘Oh.’ Her voice sounded husky, and she was furious with herself for giving herself away like that. She still had the hots for him. Which was crazy, because in some ways he was more of a stranger to her now than he’d been when she’d met him.

‘I don’t have time for this, either,’ he said. ‘I have an empire to finish building.’

‘That’s the dream you wouldn’t tell me about in Rome? To build an empire?’ She paused. ‘Or a dynasty?’

He scowled. ‘Not a dynasty. I don’t want a family.’

He sounded a little too emphatic. She remembered he’d said he wasn’t close to his family. ‘What’s so bad about your family?’

‘Let’s just leave it that they want different things from me.’

‘But surely your mum and dad are proud of you? You don’t look much older than I am, and you’re already CEO of a chain with four hotels in Rome.’

‘Sounds as if you’ve been doing research on me.’

‘No. Your receptionist told me about the other hotels. And you’re avoiding the question.’

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea whether my parents are proud of me and I don’t actually care. I barely speak to them, and it suits all of us that way.’ He looked her straight in the eye. ‘What about you? I know you lost your mum—but if she’d been here I’d bet she would’ve been really proud of you last night. But what about your dad, your grandparents? Were they there at the launch?’

‘My mum was a single parent, and …’ She grimaced. ‘I don’t have a family to be close to. But I have good friends. That’s enough for me.’

‘Me, too.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Something else we have in common.’

‘We’re from different worlds. You’re—’

‘—a bored, spoiled rich kid, slumming it?’ he cut in.

She blew out a breath. ‘I apologise for that. But you do come from a wealthy background. I don’t. My lottery win would be small change to you, but it’s absolutely life-changing for me.’

‘You’re the one who said money isn’t important,’ he reminded her.

‘It isn’t what you have that matters; it’s the kind of person you are and how you treat others that’s important.’

‘That works for me,’ he said. ‘So. You and me.’ He drew her hand up to his mouth. His lips were warm against her palm. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved to her wrist; she knew he would be able to feel just how hard and how fast her pulse was beating.

‘Ella bellezza .’ He stroked her cheek and she opened her eyes again. ‘Neither of us has time for this. Neither of us is looking for this. But can you honestly tell me that you want to walk away from this?’

‘Honestly?’ She thought about it. ‘No.’ She reached up to trace his lower lip with the tip of her forefinger. He had such a beautiful mouth. A mouth that had given her so much pleasure.

He drew the tip of her finger into his mouth and sucked, hard.

Lust curled through her again. ‘Rico.’ The word felt as if it were poured through sand.

And then they were kissing each other, hot, hard, open-mouthed. He scooped her onto his lap and slid his hands under her jacket; she could feel the warmth of his palms against her skin through the soft cotton of her shirt. Then he tugged her shirt out of her waistband and they were skin to skin. His fingertips moved in tiny circles against her skin, arousing her further. Slowly, slowly, he moved his hands from her back to her midriff, and then upwards so he could cup her breasts. She ached for his touch.

As if he read her mind, he moved one hand so he could unbutton her shirt, then stripped her jacket and shirt off at the same time.

‘Your skin’s so soft.’ He traced the lacy edge of her bra. ‘And I need to see you.’

‘Yes.’ She wanted this as much as he did. Needed it. He might be a liar, a man she could never trust, but he made her body sing.

He unsnapped her bra with one hand, slid the straps down, then tossed the lacy garment away. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as he kissed his way down her throat—hot, open-mouthed kisses, swirling his tongue against her skin. Her hands slid back into his hair, urging him on.

He opened his mouth over one nipple and sucked; a bolt of pure pleasure lanced through her. But it wasn’t enough. She knew he could give her more, and she wanted everything he could offer. Every touch, every caress, every taste.

When he released her, she dipped her head and kissed him.

He was shaking when he broke the kiss. ‘Ella, if we don’t stop now …’

‘If we do stop,’ she said, ‘I think I might implode.’

‘Me, too.’ His eyes were very dark, and his accent was more pronounced.

She slid off his lap and got to her feet, expecting him to lead her through to his bedroom. But, to her shock, when he stood up, he scooped her into his arms and carried her through to his bed.

‘Caveman tendencies?’

‘Absolutely. And that means I want your hair down. Spread across my pillow. While I’m buried inside you.’

Oh, God, the pictures that put in her head.

That silenced her, and he laughed. ‘Careful what you wish for, Ella bellezza .’

His smile gave her the courage to say what she was thinking. ‘Right now I wish,’ she said, ‘that you weren’t wearing quite so much.’

He set her down on her feet. ‘OK, I’m in your hands. Do what you will.’

Her hands were trembling slightly as she undid the buttons of his shirt. Then she had to deal with his tie. It had been years since she’d dated a man who wore a tie—Michael had always gone for the casual college professor look—and this one felt like silk. Designer. ‘Help?’ she asked.

He dealt with the tie and his top button, and shrugged his jacket off. ‘Better?’

‘Rico, that needs hanging up.’ His jacket had felt soft and smooth, and she’d bet it cost a small fortune.

‘I don’t care. I just need you to take the rest of my clothes off. Preferably in the next five seconds. And you can lose your skirt, first.’

She lifted her chin. ‘Bossing me about, are you?’

He spread his hands and gave her the sexiest grin she’d ever seen. ‘Just making a suggestion. Which you can choose to accept … or not.’