Making over the Billionaire (an Italian Connection Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (12 page)

“Oh, really? Who whisked me away to your yacht? If it was up to me—” She broke off. If it had been up to her, she would have delivered him to his angry sisters for an intervention-style confrontation, and she never would have seen him cheering passionately for his football team or felt the force of his passionate lovemaking. She met his gaze, serious now. “If it was up to me, I’d do it all over again.”

“So would I.” His eyes glowed warmly and almost as an afterthought he added, “No matter what else happens.”

Layla’s smile faded a little, and she couldn’t meet his gaze. If only he knew just how much she’d been acting with him. Not about the important stuff—how they were when they were together. But would he believe that if he knew she was conspiring against him with his sisters?

Chapter Eleven

Giorgio lay face down on a blanket on golden sand. Layla straddled his backside, massaging the residual knots out of his neck and shoulders. Until he’d started to unwind he’d had no idea how much tension had built up in him. Her clever fingers knew just where to dig into the trigger points and eliminate them.

She had thoroughly seduced him, not just with sex but with her enthusiasm for life’s pleasures. After the grotto, he’d taken her to see the villa where the Emperor Tiberius lived. Viewing it from a design perspective, she’d pointed out things about the architecture that he’d never noticed. And when they’d swum at the beach where the Sirens were said to have seduced Odysseus, she was like a fish, at home in the water. She’d told him about holidays in the San Juan Islands in a cottage on the Pacific Ocean. It was strange to think of her having another life far away on the other side of the world.

Now they were in a secluded cove accessible only by dinghy and so well hidden by a curving rocky cliff that no tourists ever found it. He’d taken her to his special places, the grotto and now this beach. He was a little surprised at himself, but he wasn’t sorry. In only three days she’d be gone. He would go back to his normal, twelve-hour workday routine. He had to remember this was a summer idyll, a moment out of time. He’d laughed more today than he had in the past six months. His shoulders were tingling with sunburn and the sand was warm between his toes.

A coconut smell came from the lotion she was rubbing into his warm skin and with every long forward stroke of her hands, her thighs tightened around his hips. Even though they’d made love twice already today, once in the grotto and once when they arrived on the beach, he wanted her again. He craved her like he craved all the good things he’d been missing from life—the sun and the sea, laughter and conversation. Not being pressured to make decisions.

“Are you asleep?” she said.

“Almost,” he murmured. He felt lazy and drowsy and utterly boneless.

“Then my work here is done.” She made a final sweep across his shoulders and rolled off to lie on her back next to him, breathing out a long sigh. “This is so perfect.”

“Would you like me to massage you?”

“Not now. We both know what happens when you put your hands on me.”

He chuckled and turned on his side to face her. He adored her profile, the slightly upturned nose, the determined chin, and the thick red hair falling away from a high forehead and slanting cheekbones. She was topless, wearing only sheer silk panties of unbelievable hue and incredibly sexy cut.

He picked up a handful of warm, soft sand and sifted it through his fingers onto her right breast, aiming for a freckle at two o’clock from her flattened dusky nipple.

Smiling, she brushed his hand away without opening her eyes. “Stop it.”

Saying stop was like a red flag to a bull. He found a seagull feather half buried in the sand and tickled under her chin. She batted it away. He did it again, gliding the feather tip down her sternum and over the curve of her breast.

“Pest.” She bit her lip and kept her eyes scrunched shut.

Smiling at her determination not to react, he dragged the feather back and forth across her nipple, fascinated at the way it puckered and beaded.

“What happened with that man you were with for three years, Richard? Did he hurt you?” The thought made his chest ache for her.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Her eyes were firmly shut, but she was only pretending to be relaxed. Her fingers had curled tightly around a bunch of towel.

“If you’re still in pain then it does matter. Don’t tell me he thought you worked too much.” How ironic if they had the same problem.

“In a way,” she said. “He wanted me to stay home and be a housewife and a stay-at-home mom. I have no problem with women who want to do that. But I wanted to build my business. He didn’t like that and tried to convince me to give it up.”

“He must not have known you very well if he thought you would do that. So you broke off the engagement over that? You couldn’t reach a compromise?”

She opened her eyes and gave him a look that was too pointed to miss. “He didn’t compromise.”

Meaning like him? How could she compare her fiancé wanting her to give up her career ambitions with him? He would never demand that of any woman. “He wasn’t worthy of you.”

“I totally agree.” Still, there was a trace of sadness in her voice. She, too, had made sacrifices for her work. “Three months after we broke up he was engaged to a school teacher, and they’d bought a house together.”

“If settling down wasn’t what you wanted then it’s good you found out, no?”

A beat passed before she answered, “Sure.” Then she laid an arm across her eyes. “Wow, that sun’s bright.”

He reached for a sunhat she’d brought off the boat and laid it over her forehead. When she shifted her arm away, a tear leaked from the corner of her eye. “Do you still love him?”

“God, no.” She gave an angry laugh. “I don’t know what I’m blubbing about. I learned a valuable lesson. I’ll never get involved with a guy who’s so controlling again.”

She
did
see him in the same light. It was unfair, but since they were only together for a weekend it didn’t matter, right?

“Do you want children?” Giorgio probed, not quite knowing why.

“Sure, someday, when I meet the right guy.” She rolled on her side, her eyes dry and fierce. “First I need to make my mark, prove to myself and everyone else that I can do something with my life.”

“You’re already doing that.” He slid a finger beneath the leg of her panties. “You’ve created these.”

“It’s not enough. I need to be able to make a living at it.” Her lips pressed together. “I shouldn’t be talking like this to you. I should be telling you how successful I am.”

“You were successful in getting me to take a few days off, something no one else has been able to do for years.”

“It’s turned out okay, hasn’t it? You’re not sorry?” She propped herself on one elbow, head in her hand. Sand had dried on her naked breasts and her eyes were a brilliant blue.

It had been wonderful. At the same time, at the back of his mind, he was conscious of all the things he should be doing—and wasn’t—because of her. He just hoped he wouldn’t have cause for regret later. “No, I’m not sorry.”

“You took a long time to answer.”

“So you think I’m controlling and unable to compromise.”

Her mouth twisted, wry and sad. “If the shoe fits…”

He tweaked a lock of sandy red hair. “I’ve done everything that you wanted today.”

“I don’t mean today, and you know it.” She regarded him curiously. “Why do you have such a hard time letting go? You wear your responsibility like a hair shirt.”

He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. Hair shirt came pretty close to the mark.

She prodded him in the shoulder. “Hey, don’t go to sleep when you don’t like the conversation.” Then her voice changed, became gentler. “How did that car accident, the one that killed your brother, happen? I’ve read articles that mention it but they’re always short on detail.”

Trust Layla to intuit that the accident had changed his life in more ways than the obvious. Or maybe Tina told her. But even Tina didn’t know everything about that night.

He closed his hands around sand and then lifted them, feeling the warm grains slip through his fingers. His control over life felt like that, slipping through his fingers no matter how hard he tried to grasp it and hold on.

“What does it matter? You’ll be going back to Seattle soon. I’ll go back to Rome. This is just an interlude. You don’t need to know me.”

So softly he almost missed it, she said, “I
want
to know you.” When he didn’t reply, she said, “You weren’t responsible for your brother’s death. He was at the wheel, and he was driving too fast. I gleaned that much from the newspaper.”

“Those are the facts as reported.” His stomach clenched so badly then he had to sit up and lean forward with his arms on his knees. It had been dark that night and raining, the road slippery. He could still hear the squeal of the tires as the car skidded wide around the tight curve and see the truck’s headlights coming straight at them…

Layla’s arm came around him as she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry your brother died. But it’s not your fault. It was an accident.”

“An accident,” he repeated. Such easy words to say. It wouldn’t have happened if not for him.

“And your father, that’s not your fault,” Layla went on. “He died months later.”

“That was his second heart attack. The first one that weakened his heart happened that night Leo died.”

“Oh.” Layla went still. A gull cried, wheeling in the sky. Far off, in the next cove, children played. “That wasn’t in the papers.”

“No one realized. All the attention was on Leo and me because I was injured too, although less seriously.” He stared up at the deep blue sky, letting his eyes be dazzled by the sun. “Papa didn’t say anything. He went to bed with chest pains and didn’t go to the hospital until two days later.”

“I hate to say it but that was not very smart.”

“He was stubborn.”

“Like someone else I know.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “Are you going to let the past dictate the rest of your life? Is that what your brother and father would have wanted, for you to be a slave to work and responsibility, to keep such a tight grip on the reins that your sisters are in revolt?”

“They know I have their best interests at heart.”

“Trust me, Giorgio, they’re so frustrated they’re ready to storm the castle and dethrone the king. You think you’re protecting them, but they’re adults. They’re crazy about you, but they don’t want big brother telling them what to do anymore. Or cutting them out of the decision making process.”

He tapped her impertinent nose with the tip of his finger. “I thought you wanted me to relax. This conversation isn’t doing the job.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Kiss me.” He tasted her lips, plump and warm from the sun and slightly salty from swimming in the sea. Inside, her mouth was sweet and moist like the ripe orange she’d eaten earlier. “I haven’t forgotten your promise.”

“You are going to love it,” she said, with a slow smile. “Let’s go back to the boat.”

Chapter Twelve

Layla showered off the sand and salt water and smoothed scented lotion over her sun-kissed body. She took extra care with her appearance, putting on her favorite lingerie beneath a long flowing dress that clung to her breasts and hips. She couldn’t wait to see Giorgio’s eyes light up when he saw her in it.

As she put the finishing touches on her makeup—smoky eyes and just a light lip gloss—she pointed the mascara wand at her reflection in the mirror. “Have your fun, but don’t forget that you’re here for business.”

She wished she didn’t have to lie to him. Last night, and this afternoon on the beach, he’d given her something of himself by taking her to the grotto and the secluded beach. In exchange, she’d revealed things she’d never told anyone else, like how devastated she’d been over breaking up with Richard. She‘d stayed with Richard far too long, hoping he would change. But those kind of men never did. And Giorgio was cut from the same cloth. She should have learned her lesson. Partly her tears had been because she was falling for him hard and was afraid she’d be hurt again. She’d started out being physically attracted to him and wanting him for sex. Now her feelings went much deeper. It was exciting—and terrifying.

Her phone rang and she picked up. “Hello?”

“
Ciao
,” Tina said. “How is everything? Did you have a good day?”

“It was awesome.” She sighed with remembered pleasure. “We swam in a grotto, went sightseeing, and swam some more. How are things there?”

“I met with my whole team of designers and we talked about your lingerie.” Tina paused. “I want to trial it for this year’s collection. I’m going to have our legal department draw up a contract for you first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it.” Layla leaped to her feet, too excited to sit still. Then she sank onto the bed. “What about Giorgio? He hasn’t changed his mind, and it doesn’t look as though he will.”

“I don’t care.” Layla could imagine Tina tossing her mane of dark hair. “I’ve got an idea about how to get around his stupid rule if he continues to be pig-headed. I’m prepared to go to the mat for you.”

Layla rose again, a hand pressed to her chest. Her dream was coming true. “You won’t be sorry, I promise you.”

Giorgio was going to flip his lid when he found out Tina was giving her a contract despite his opposition. She was under no illusions that the past couple of days made any difference to the way he felt. He’d been gorgeous, considerate, and attentive, but his priority was his family and his business. End of story.

“I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch,” Tina said. “Angela, Francesca, and I will be down early to talk to Giorgio. I’m going to give him one last chance to make some changes in our organization. If not, then too bad for him.”

“What are you planning?” Layla asked. Would Tina be able to stand up to her brother? Was she even legally able to do this?

“You’ll find out. I don’t want to pre-empt any agreement we might come to tomorrow before I issue an ultimatum. But don’t say anything!”

“I won’t.” She hesitated. “I’m thrilled, of course, but couldn’t you wait until Monday to confront Giorgio? It might spoil his birthday.”

“And let him dodge us again? No, this is our chance to get the issue of our autonomy settled before the expansion into Asia.” Tina gave a short laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re advocating for him.”

“No, it’s just that…well, he’s really enjoying himself.” She hesitated. “I think he blames himself for the accident that killed his brother and is punishing himself.”

Tina sighed. “He wasn’t even driving. And it couldn’t have been Leo’s fault, either. He was a good driver, sensible and dependable, always obeyed the road rules. No, it was simply a horrible accident.”

“And your father’s heart attack?”

“Papa was wonderful father, but he didn’t look after himself. He smoked, never exercised, and he ate too many of Mamma’s cannoli. He was a heart attack waiting to happen.”

“I just think it’s a shame Giorgio has to do business on his birthday,” Layla said.

“I know, but this will be the only time we’re all together,” Tina said. “Next week, I’m starting a new business venture with Fabio. But don’t tell Giorgio that, either. This has nothing to do with the Borlenghi Group, and I don’t want him interfering.”

“Okay,” Layla said dubiously. A new venture? Did this have something to do with Tina giving her a contract? “I know it’s none of my business but are you sure about Fabio? Do you trust him?”

“Implicitly,” Tina said with finality. “I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow.”

Layla said good-bye and went topside where the candlelit dining table was set for two. A romantic sunset painted the horizon, and Giorgio was waiting for her with a bottle of champagne. It reminded her of the first time they’d shared bubbly, but this was vastly different. Then he’d been tense and angry; now he couldn’t be more relaxed. But as on the other occasion, he was wholly focused on her.

“This is the perfect end to a perfect day,” she said, raising her flute to clink with his.

“To today,” he agreed and sipped, his gaze holding hers.

She felt a flutter in her stomach at the intensity in his dark eyes. They had the rest of today and tomorrow but then…

No, she wasn’t going to ruin this weekend with wishing for what she couldn’t have. She’d gone into this with her eyes open.

They ate fresh seafood and salad. Giorgio was charming and attentive and the conversation flowed as if they’d known each other for years instead of days. Their knees bumped together, and he reached below the table to stroke her thigh.

“You’ve changed since we’ve been here,” she said when there was a lull in the conversation. “When you go back to Rome will you make time to relax more?”

“Possibly, when this deal is completed.” He captured her foot and started to massage. When he pressed his fingers into her sole she felt it all the way to her core. It was all she could do not to moan.

She wanted to tell him about Tina’s offer. It didn’t feel right to share intimate moments with him and keep secrets. But she couldn’t, not until after the party. Then everything would be out in the open. It would be a relief in a way.

Layla toyed with her wine glass. “I envy you your close-knit family. I always wanted to have a sister. You’ve got three.”

“They plague me to death. Like little hens fussing over the chick. Except I am the cock, and I rule the roost.” He thumped his chest, self-mocking. Then his smile faded. “I’m very worried about Tina. The more I find out about Fabio—”

“What have you found out?”

“He had a run-in with the law in France. Apparently charges were laid but he left town before a trial could take place. I’m waiting for more information from the detective,” Giorgio said. “Then there’s his womanizing. The detective emailed me incriminating photos of him with a model.”

“You need to tell Tina.” It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about Tina’s business venture with Fabio, but she’d promised not to.

“I told her about the other woman. She didn’t believe me. She accuses me of trying to deflect attention from her bid for more autonomy for the House of Borlenghi.”

“I hope you work things out with her. Your family adores you. I’m glad they’ll be here for your birthday.” Layla squeezed his hand. Whatever else Giorgio was guilty of, there was no doubting his devotion to them. She just hoped tomorrow didn’t end in tears.

Giorgio pushed away the empty dishes. “Shall we go below?”

She nodded. That morning at breakfast she’d promised to do a burlesque piece for him. At the time it seemed fun and flirty. Now, after the intimacy they’d shared in conversation and lovemaking, and with the end of their time together looming, the sexy dance just for him took on added seriousness and importance.

Back in his stateroom, he dimmed the lights and put on soft music. Then he lay on the bed fully clothed with his arms behind his head, waiting with uncharacteristic patience. Maybe they’d finally worn each other out. She’d lost count of how many times they’d made love today. In her room, in the grotto, on the beach, in the shower before dinner…

But as she stood there, thinking how to approach this, her body came alive again under his gaze. She turned away, giving him only a glimpse of one breast in three quarter profile. Shutting her eyes she stretched languorously, arms arcing above her head, feeling the tug of her sunburned skin and the loose warmth of muscles that had been well used. Then she slid her hands sensuously down, cupping the back of her head, shaping her shoulders, lingering on her breasts, then skimming her ribs and dipping in to her waist before lovingly fanning her hips.

She shifted from one foot to the other, slowly gyrating her body in time to the music. She’d never danced quite like this before for any man. It wasn’t burlesque, it was a love poem to Giorgio. His image shone clear and sharp behind her closed eyelids. He was so beautiful that he made her feel beautiful. His desire made her feel desirable. Thinking about him watching aroused her and made her movements slower, heavier, and more sensual.

She lifted her arms again to unzip the back of her dress, letting the sides fall silkily to cling to her hips, revealing her strapless push up bra in pale pink lace with apple green satin trim. Now she turned, and caught her breath at the dark gleam in his eye.

He rolled off the bed and stood next to it, ten feet from where she stood. He made no movement toward her, just slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. The crisp white polished cotton contrasted with his hands and the growing V of tanned chest. Giorgio wasn’t one to sit idly by when he could participate. He was going to strip in tandem with her. That was so hot.

He opened his shirt, revealing a hard sculpted chest and abdomen that sent heat and moisture between her legs. One corner of his expressive mouth curled in self-mockery before he turned around and let the shirt slip down over his impressive shoulders inch by inch. She smiled, loving that they shared a sense of fun about sex. Finally, he slung the shirt to one side and slowly revolved, arms out and palms up, offering himself for her delectation. Then he tucked his thumbs into his belt, waiting for her next move.

The space between them was charged with electricity. Layla ran her hands up her bare midriff to cup her breasts and press her thumbs against the erect peaks of her nipples through the sheer bra. Then she undid the last inch of zipper and let the dress puddle around her ankles before stepping out of it, toward Giorgio. A growl erupted low in his throat and his gaze devoured her. From her upthrust breasts in the sexy bra to her matching panties and legs made longer by high heels, she’d never felt so sexy or so desired. She’d never wanted any man as much as she wanted this man.

After his gaze had roamed her body he locked eyes with her, gauging her every response to him. Slowly he undid his belt, drawing her attention to his hands. Elegant, strong, sexy. Just thinking about the pleasure those hands would bring her made her wet. Not a word had been spoken, but their eyes were in intimate conversation and their bodies communicated in explicit language. Now Giorgio pushed down his pants, revealing black silk knit briefs that barely contained his enormous erection. The head protruded, engorged and beaded, above a veined pulsing cock that surely had a life and a will of its own. He stepped out of his pants, one step closer.

Over to her.

The sexual tension was palpable, a direct reflection of their growing arousal. Layla’s belly was tight and hot, her breasts tingling and heavy. Pressing her thighs together sent tiny jolts of sensation outward from her core. It took all her self-control not to cross the remaining six feet and press herself against him. Instead she turned away and unhooked her bra, cocking a hip for a couple of beats before facing him, her crossed arms holding the bra cups against her breasts. She dropped the lacy garment to cup her breasts, offering them to him with a sultry glance. Her cheeks were heated and a flush had spread across her chest. The tip of her tongue peeked from between her lips. As she squeezed both nipples a moan escaped her. She took another step closer.

Giorgio was getting impatient now, clenching and unclenching his hands, his expression strained. Even his toes curled and uncurled with the effort of remaining in place. As soon as she stepped forward, he yanked down his briefs and flung them aside. His pulsing, jutting cock led the way as he took a giant step forward, bringing him almost within arm’s reach of Layla. He tried reaching a hand to her, fingers straining for but not quite touching her breast.

If she bent forward she would be in his grasp. Heat and sex radiated off him in tangible waves. But although she longed to speed things up, she took a perverse pleasure in torturing both of them by dragging out the last movement of the dance. Slipping her fingers down her panties she cupped herself and undulated against her hand as she slowly turned her back to him. When she bent over and pushed her panties down below her crack, her butt came up against his cock. Giorgio gave an agonized groan. She half-expected him to seize her and thrust into her, which brought on a gush of heat and wetness and the urge to push back into him. But he had ironclad willpower.

She was close to losing hers, however, along with her mind. Straightening, she faced him again. The panties still clinging to her hips were soaked with her own juices. Her breath was coming faster and his was harshly audible. He was so full of testosterone he looked ready to either do battle or explode. His gaze was riveted to the juncture between her thighs as she slowly slid her panties the rest of the way down over a neatly trimmed thatch of auburn curls. More strangled sounds emerged from his throat. She dropped the scrap of satin and lace to the floor and stepped over it. And into his arms.

With an animal growl he picked her up and settled her around his hips, his cock a hot pulsing rod between their bellies. After the slow build, lust took over and they came together in a frenzy. Their open mouths joined hungrily, nipping and sucking. Teeth clashed and bit. Tongues plunged and withdrew. He laid her on the bed and with trembling fingers sheathed himself. Her hips lifted and he sank into her with one strong thrust, his huge cock stretching and filling her.