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Her head jerked up, the gravelly voice tugging at her nerves.
Leandro Conti stared down that aquiline bridge of his nose. Neon blue lighting from the strobes cast blue shadows on his narrow, angular face, teasing her with flashes of his thin-lipped mouth.
The scowl on his brow straightened her spine. “Are you implying that I’m not good enough to wear your exalted designer shoes?”
“I do not imply.”
“You’re a jerk, Mr. Conti.”
His gaze flitted down over her neck, and her body tightly encased in a sheath dress she’d borrowed from Valentina. Even the stretchy fabric couldn’t make much of her nonexistent curves.
But under his stare, Alex felt scorched, marked.
“And you...are playing hard at being a grown-up. Unsuccessfully, I might say.”
“Damned if I do, and if I don’t, with you. At least three men wanted to take me home tonight,” she taunted recklessly, even as hurt pierced her, “so I say take your unwanted, stuffy opinion—”
His fingers tightened over her waist, but never hurting. Though his expression remained coolly remote. Alex wondered if his grip told more truth about him than his words. “Ah... I didn’t realize your goal was so low.
“Did my fashion-genius brother not advise you that those sturdy jeans and neon pink sneakers suit that innocent, American girl-next-door image of yours to perfection? It is the perfect lure.”
His infuriating attitude scraped. But the thing that her juvenile mind focused on was that he remembered her neon pink sneakers.
“Of all the faults I attributed to you, being a snob wasn’t one.”
“What did you attribute to me then?”
“Arrogance. Cynicism. As much feeling as a rock.”
He let her go then, almost shoving her away from him. As if she’d hurt him.
Alex tottered again on the heels. Her ankle throbbed.
His arm shot out again, accompanied by pithy Italian she was glad she couldn’t understand. Her body felt ragged, as if someone else controlled her limbs.
“Should you be drinking when you’re among strangers in a foreign country?”
The sharp, almost caustic tone of his words, fortunately, canceled out the sensuous web she fell into.
Oh, he made her so mad. And bold. And hot. As if every inch of her skin was on fire, hungry, desperate to be quenched with his touch.
“I had one...one glass of wine.” But since she’d barely eaten anything all day, it had gone straight to her head. “Not that I need to explain myself to you. Back off.”
One eyebrow rose in that imperious face. Arrogance dripped from the man even when he didn’t understand her. “Back off?”
His palm was a heated brand on her lower back while he was a fortress of wiry strength in front. Men she’d met at college were boys compared to Leandro Conti. Ergo, her utter lack of sophistication in handling him. “Leave me alone. You’re not my keeper, something in that vein.”
“So do you have a keeper, back home? I don’t think they’re doing a good job of looking after you.”
“What is this? The sixteenth century?” she quipped.
He wasn’t particularly amused but there was a gleam in those gray depths. An infinitesimal softening of that mouth. “You’re not quite the lost little waif I thought, are you?”
She forced a laugh to cover up the tingling she felt all over. He smelled so good, like the most decadent dark chocolate with a bitter edge to it. The one that clung to the senses long after it was consumed. The one you glutted on knowing it was going to settle into your thighs and hips. “Is it impossible for you to speak without being insulting?”
“You will not get sweet words from me, Ms. Sharpe. Barely eighteen and roaming a foreign country, staying with strangers. You might as well hang a Take Me sign around your neck. I’d never let Valentina—”
The barb landing sharp, Alex spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m twenty and I’m not Valentina.”
She’d die before she admitted that, since that first night that Valentina had brought her to the Conti Villa, all she had thought of was him. That it was his dismissive look that’d had her borrowing Valentina’s dress.
That it was his attention, his gaze that she had sought from day one. That the thought of leaving, of going back to her dull existence without knowing his kiss, his touch, haunted her.
“And Valentina and Luca are my friends, even if—”
“If you consider my brother a friend, if you mistake his intent toward you,” he said, as his nostrils flared, and she wondered if he was disgusted or angry or both, “you’re more foolish than I assumed. I should have never let Valentina bring you to the villa.”
“You find my presence so objectionable that you’re avoiding the villa, aren’t you?”
She hadn’t meant to betray that she’d noticed his absence. But he didn’t deny her claim either.
Hurt was a thorn nestled deep into her skin.
“Luca and I...we understand each other perfectly,” she added defiantly.
Although he was right.
A day after she had arrived at their villa, Luca had cornered her twice, teased her, kissed her. Made it clear within an hour that he’d love to make it more. Alex had a feeling Luca would take any woman to bury whatever lingered under that easy charm. And just as easily discard her the next morning.
But she hadn’t been tempted, at all. Alex felt nothing even as she admitted that Luca was sex on legs.
The man in front of her however...he made her feel naked and languid and achy all over, with just one look from those gray depths. For all his grating politeness, he made her feel as if he saw her, the Alexis that wanted to pack a lifetime of adventure into one short summer.
Why, she’d no idea.
“Have you already slept with him then?”
If she’d been a violent person, if the amused glint in his eyes hadn’t lulled her, Alex would’ve slapped him then. Instead, she slowly but firmly pushed his hand away and threw him a disgusted look. “Is this your job then? Follow around the women Luca tangles with and silence them with a dirty payoff—”
“I didn’t intend to offend you,” he offered roughly, and Alexis almost believed that he hadn’t meant to. That it was curiosity rather than judgment in his tone.
She had it bad, if she was justifying his cheap remarks...
“Could there be a different intention?”
“You don’t know Luca like I do. And you are...”
“I’m what, Mr. Conti? The stereotypical American slut? Easy? Weak enough for you to insult without knowing the first thing about me?”
Something almost like regret pinched his mouth. When his gaze flipped open again, a storm danced within it. As if some small part of him was uncoiling and awake. “Luca is a...sucker, as you call it, for your type.”
She raised an eyebrow then. Maybe not so imperious like him but she was proud of herself. “And what type is that?”
He sighed. Satisfaction pounded in Alex’s blood, the little sound of his capitulation a roaring defeat.
“You want your pound of flesh?”
“From the moment I arrived, you’ve looked at me like I was dirt beneath your handmade Italian shoes. I want every drop of blood that you owe me.”
A hint of a smile caressed his lips, tilting one corner of his mouth up. The impact of it was like molten honey through her veins, turning her languorous and sluggish. “You’re young and vivacious, a striking contrast of strength when compared to someone like Valentina. But your eyes, they betray your innocence and your vulnerability. You possess a distinct lack of artifice that is dangerously attractive. For a man like Luca with such jaded taste, you’re like a fresh drink of water that might just sate his unquenchable thirst. It’s enough to rouse a man’s instincts, enough to make him assume, foolishly, that you need to be protected.”
Heartbeat skittering all over the place, Alex stared, stunned. She had thought herself beneath his notice, inadequate to even catch his attention. “Why foolish?” she croaked.
“Because, as I’m realizing slowly, you might look innocent and vulnerable, but you’re not weak.”
“If that’s an apology,” she countered weakly, battling the fluttering feeling in her chest, “then it’s the most convoluted one I’ve ever heard.”
A couple of women, one dressed in black leather and the other a white cocktail dress, both so tight as if they were painted over their voluptuous bodies, passed them huddling Alexis toward him.
Their hushed whispers and awed mutterings were obvious enough for Alex.
Leandro Conti didn’t usually hang around nightclubs. Or parade in public, she realized, in complete contrast to Luca who seemed to go out of his way to engage the media’s attention.
Nor had he found her by accident. Valentina had already left.
Which meant he had come here looking... “Why are you here tonight?” When he frowned, she elaborated. “You barely seem to tolerate the normal pursuits and company like the rest of us.”
“Have you studied me so thoroughly then?”
Alex blushed. How neatly he had trapped her into admitting that she’d been obsessed with him. But she’d never met anyone like him, didn’t know how to hide her fascination.
His hand stayed on her elbow, separating her from the crowd. “My grandfather is convinced you’re a gold digger out to get her claws into Luca. I’ve been ordered to make sure you don’t succeed.”
Her jaw fell open. Disbelief slowly cycled to righteous fury. And here she’d thought he’d come for her. “Go to hell,” she whispered and took off.
Hot tears prickled behind her eyes and she resolutely locked them away. The arrogant jerk wasn’t worth a single tear.
Somehow, she managed to only delve deeper into the mazelike nightclub, the sexy, almost hip-hop-like music chasing her. One minute, she was pushing through the throng, and next, she was looking at a lushly carpeted, quiet corridor with three unmarked doors.
Cursing, Alex turned around and banged into the one man she never wanted to see again.
Why was he following her?
“I told you to go—”
His fingers on her wrist viselike, he slid a card at the door and tugged her inside. “You’re making a scene.”
The door closed behind them with a finality that made Alex jump. But the stinging response that rose to her mouth died.
It was a VIP suite. Eyes wide, Alex studied it, a furious flush rising up through her neck.
Floor-to-ceiling glass paneling made up the far wall of the plush suite, giving a perfect view into the dance floor and bar on the two levels.
Two lush couches stood against the far wall, adjacent to a small refrigerator. And on the other wall was a giant plasma screen that was currently turned off.
Gut swooping, she turned. “I don’t think we should be here. This area...”
“I own this club, Ms. Sharpe.”
Laughter, more sarcastic than warm, gurgled out of her. A villa in Lake Como, a nightclub in Milan, and a growing luxury goods collection that celebrities were crazy about—the Contis might as well be from a different planet. “Of course you do. Have you had men watching me all this time?”
The thick swath of his eyelashes shadowed his expression. “Valentina always has protection.”
“And you told them to keep an eye on the American gold digger/slut, too.”
“It was for your protection.”
“And who protects me from you?”
The dim, somehow still classy purple lighting in the room didn’t quite hide his flinch. But she was far too furious to wonder why.
“What do you intend? To lock me up here? To have me neatly packed away in one of your jets and have me dumped on the other side of Atlantic? To send me off silently into the night?” No, he wasn’t allowed to dismiss her like this. Not when she felt so weak-kneed and aware of him. “You know your brother is a fast worker. What if I already have him in my clutches? Maybe Luca and I’ve already, thoroughly, f—”
“Basta!” he muttered, before his hand descended on her mouth while the other one locked her against the wall.
The rough, almost possessive grip he had on her hip branded her. But it was his gaze that held her rooted.
A flash of temper? A spark of emotion? Whatever it was, it lit his usually droll gaze.
He wasn’t impervious to her.
Hot, reckless energy pounded through her, making her thrum with excitement. “You can think it, but I can’t say it, Leandro?” She drawled her words, adding a lazy taunt. “At least, with Luca, I know I’ll have a good time without insults.”
Gray irises widened, bleeding into the dark black around.
The quiet room shrank around the two of them, an explosive current springing into life. The masculine scent of him was a whiplash against her senses, his fingertips pressing into her flesh.
Yet all Alex felt was charged up.
“Do you know what you so dangerously provoke? Are you prepared for it?”
A wealth of meaning reverberated in his statement and it lay between them, a grenade ticking away.
Drunk on the challenge in his molten gaze, Alex couldn’t back down. “I don’t care how wealthy you—”
His tapered fingers squeezed her palm gently. “I don’t agree with my grandfather, bella.”
“No?”
