Making over the Billionaire (an Italian Connection Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (5 page)

He paced away from the window. The truth was, he was all churned up inside. He stopped in front of a framed photograph of himself and Rocco, the captain of Naples football team. He owned the team after rescuing it from bankruptcy, yet he hadn’t gone to a single game in three years.

“I’m serious, Anna. Do you go to plays or concerts? The art gallery? Perhaps a trip to Monte Carlo.”

“Nothing so exciting,
Signor
. I enjoy a game of cards in the evening with my husband and our neighbors.” Her frown faded and she smiled. “We sit in the courtyard in the shade of the linden tree with a glass of wine.”

“Simple pleasures.” An involuntary sigh escaped him. “I envy you.”

“
You
envy
me
? I’ll call your doctor and make an appointment.” Anna started to rise.

“No, no, sit down. I’m just feeling the stress of the negotiations.” Giorgio returned to his desk, pulled his chair in, and picked up the contract. “Let’s go over these passages.”

They’d worked steadily for a couple of hours when the phone rang. He reached for it. “Hello?”

“
Signora
Layla Langham is here,” Maria, the receptionist said. “She doesn’t have an appointment, but she says she knows you.”

Layla. The memory of his hand on her breast made him grip the phone tighter. He wanted to see her, even if it was only for five minutes. But no. If he allowed her in, she would disrupt his morning. He had no time for distractions of the Layla Langham variety. “Give her my apologies. My schedule is completely full.”

“
Si,
Signor
—” Maria broke off abruptly. Over the phone he heard a commotion in the outer office with several voices talking at once.

The door burst open. Layla strode in wearing a halter-topped dress that displayed substantial cleavage and a skirt that whirled around her shapely legs. Her glossy, red hair waved around her bare shoulders and a pair of huge sunglasses perched atop her head.

“Hey, Gino. That’s the short form for Giorgio isn’t it?” She gave him a dazzling smile and deposited a black tote on one of the guest chairs. “I’ve decided Giorgio is too formal if we’re going to be friends.”

“Who says we’re friends?” Only his family called him Gino. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking you to lunch.” She turned to Anna with a brilliant smile. “Thank you. That will be all.”

“
Signor
Borlenghi,” Anna protested. “This is outrageous.”

Yes, it was. He should send Layla packing but…his day had just gotten very interesting. More interesting than any day he’d had in a long time before meeting this woman. “You may go, Anna. Type up those notes for me and forward them to the legal team.”

Anna rose slowly and moved toward the door, still glaring at Layla as she spoke to Giorgio. “Your conference call—”

“I won’t miss it.” Curiosity, that’s all this was. Layla could stay for a few minutes. He wanted to know what she was up to—besides pulling articles of men’s clothing out of her tote and piling them on his desk. “What are these?”

“I brought you some casual clothes. You’re going to need a disguise to get through the paparazzi down there. Have you seen how many reporters there are?”

“I can’t go to lunch. I have an important business call this afternoon.” He picked up a baseball cap with the New York Yankees insignia on it. How did she know he was a fan of the team?

She handed him a button down shirt with a tag still on it. “Get changed. I won’t peek—unless you want me to,” she added with a wink and a cheeky grin. Turning around, she crossed her arms over her chest, head cocked, listening. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to come to your senses. I can’t just leave.”

“Why, are you in jail here?”

It felt like it sometimes, but it irked to hear her say so. It reminded him that no matter how much control he had over the business, he’d lost control of his personal life. He picked up the shirt and checked the label. Off the shelf but she’d gotten his size right. Lunch, perhaps in the shade of a linden tree… He put the shirt down again. The whole idea was ridiculous.

“Don’t you get time off for good behavior?” She spun and advanced. “When was the last time you spent a day not taking care of business or micromanaging your family? When was the last time you had fun? When was the last time you did something spontaneous?”

Unanswerable questions. He lifted his chin. “I do fun, spontaneous things all the time.”

She stuck a finger at his chest. “Name one and a date.”

He couldn’t. He didn’t have a goddamn courtyard with a linden tree, and he didn’t know his neighbors because on one side lived a British actress who was rarely home. On the other side was the villa Layla rented. He had his mother and sisters but lately their relationship had been strained. Yes, it had been a while since he’d done something fun. So what?

“I don’t have time for frivolity. I’m a businessman, and I have work to do. Speaking of which—” He glanced at his watch.

“You do that a lot, you know, look at the time, as if you’re forever running out of it. Give me the watch. Today you don’t wear it.” Layla reached for his forearm and the gold Rolex that was a gift from his father on his twenty-first birthday, the day he officially became an officer of the company. The day his only brother had died.

Giorgio clamped a hand over her wrist before she could undo the clasp. “You can’t do that.”

“I could if you gave me permission.” Her eyes shone with zealous determination. “Just like you could leave the building if you gave yourself permission. You’re the big boss. If you want to walk out of here with me, you can. I’m free as a bird this afternoon. All yours for as long as you want me.”

Beneath his thumb, Layla’s pulse beat fast, just like his own heartbeat. He held her gaze, as his thoughts flew. Really, what could happen if he did have a quick lunch break?

Plenty, if he missed his call to Chang. He had responsibility and duty to his family and to the company, to all the thousands of employees who worked for the Borlenghi empire. He was the lynchpin. If he slacked off there would be repercussions far down the line.

“Here’s the plan,” Layla said, interrupting his thoughts. “We’ll take your private elevator to the ground floor where I have a taxi waiting. In that getup the paparazzi won’t recognize you. Off we go for a pleasant couple of hours at my place.”

“Why your place? Why not a restaurant?” How did she know all these things—his shirt size, his private elevator?

“I’ve ordered food in.” Slowly, she licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue. “It’s…comfortable there.”

Was she suggesting what he thought she was suggesting? His pants got a little tighter. It seemed surprising after the way they’d parted last night. Unless she thought she could sleep her way to a contract. If she was willing to try, who was he to say no? Instead of a doctor’s appointment maybe all he needed was an afternoon with Layla Langham.

His jaw firmed, and he tugged his hand out of her light hold. He could never forget that she had an agenda. “Did you meet with Tina this morning? What happened?”

“Nothing yet.” She met his gaze frankly, steadily. “What happens next is up to you.” Then she walked her fingers up his chest and rested a fingertip in the indent in his chin. “Do you want to talk about it at my place?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ve said all I’m going to say on the subject.”

She smiled slyly. “Then we’ll have to find some other topic of conversation.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Knowing I’m so opposed to you working for my sister, why would you want to have lunch with me?”

“You’re hot.” She slid her hand around to the back of his neck and moved closer. Of their own accord, his hands smoothed over her back to the curve of her hips. She leaned up, her lips looking so soft and luscious, not quite brushing his. “Say to hell with work for a few hours,” she breathed. “Say yes to temptation.”

She was playing him and paying him back for his near kiss last night. He knew that, but his tight groin didn’t care. He wanted her. As long as he was kept his wits about him and didn’t fall under her spell, why not have some fun? It was just a small diversion, after all.

He eased away from her embrace and snagged a finger in the knot of his tie to loosen it. “I have to be back by three o’clock.”

“I can’t wait to see your face when you find out what I’ve got in store for you.” Her grin of delight was infectious.

And her apparent pleasure in his company was gratifying even if it was false. He unbuttoned his shirt, shrugged out of the garment, and reached for his belt buckle. “Why go all the way across town when we could ‘eat’ right here?”

“Ooh, you’re so impatient.” Her eyes flared with blue heat as she pushed his hands away. Holding his gaze, she slowly lowered his zipper. Then she stepped away, turned, and smiled over her shoulder. “Get changed. Lunch will be all the better for the anticipation.”

Giorgio had a private dressing room adjoining his office, but he liked the idea of Layla being present while he removed his pants, knowing that any moment, should she choose to, she might walk over, perch on his desk facing him and open her legs…

Hell. He needed to control his thoughts, not allow himself to imagine sex with Layla—at least not until he was in a position to do something about it.

He tugged the jeans on and put on the shirt, leaving the tails out to cover a tell tale bulge. Then he slapped the ball cap on his head and put on his dark glasses. “I’m ready.”

Turning, she gave him a once over and her face lit with an approving smile. “Very nice. Let’s boogie. But first, take off your watch and lock it away.”

Giorgio balked. He was never without his watch. “I don’t take this off. Only to sleep.”

“And while you make love, I hope.” Her wide mouth curved in a teasing grin. “Or do you time yourself in bed?”

His nostrils flared. Was she mocking him?

She traced her fingertip from his ear, where the blood was rushing, past the ticking muscle in his jaw, to the dimple in his chin. “You are so cute when you’re tense. But I bet you’re a whole lot hotter when you’re relaxed. I’ll let you keep the watch for now, but the moment you look at it again it’s going in my purse for the rest of the day.
Capisce
?”

“I go for hours at a time without looking at my watch.” He transferred his cell and wallet from his suit trouser pocket to his jeans. Then he reached for the phone to let Anna know he was going out and without thinking, checked his watch.

“I saw that,” Layla said in a singsong voice.

Damn. She was right. He was compulsive about the time. But he had to be. Every minute of his day was accounted for, either with meetings or lunch appointments or work that needed approvals, documents requiring his signature. The sweep second hand moving around the gold face ticked away the seconds of his life.
His
life? It wasn’t his own. It belonged to the Borlenghi Group of Corporations. He loved his work but sometimes he felt as if he was going to snap.

But he wasn’t taking orders from Layla. He locked gazes with her. “I never go anywhere without this watch. Do
you capisce
?”

Her will battled his for a couple of long, surprisingly enjoyable seconds. Lunch wasn’t going to be nearly enough time to explore what else Layla and he could find to spar about. But he was still smarting from her comments about his lack of spontaneity. It would serve her right if he turned the tables on her.

And why not? A plan began to form in his mind. At her villa, she’d have the advantage. That wouldn’t do. His first rule in love and business was never to relinquish the upper hand. He simply had to take control of the situation—as he always did.

His fizz of enjoyment bubbled higher. What if he gave her what she thought she wanted? Oh, not the nooner at her place but something much bigger. And farther afield.

She blinked first in their staring contest. “We’re wasting time.”

“Ah, now that is something I never do.” Rubbing his hands together, he buzzed Anna on the intercom and told her he was going out for a couple of hours. Then he placed a call to his helicopter pilot, on standby to fly anywhere in Europe at a moment’s notice. Luckily Layla didn’t speak Italian so she wouldn’t be forewarned.

“Let’s get out of here.” He smiled to himself as he reached for her hand and pulled her toward the exit into his private stairwell. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she found out what he had in store for her.

Bypassing the elevator, he opened the door to the roof and stepped onto a concrete platform high above the city.

Layla’s hair blew around her face from the breeze of the helicopter rotors. She planted her feet, resisting his tug. “Hey, what’s going on? Why the whirlybird?”

“I’m taking you to lunch—on my yacht in Naples.” His blood raced with the unexpected bid for freedom and the added unpredictability of this woman. He felt a surge of triumph at surprising her for once. “You said you wanted to go.”

Eyes wide, she pushed her flying hair back. “I-I can’t.”

“Give me one good reason,” he yelled over the
thwap, thwap
of the rotors.

“I-I ordered food,” she yelled back. “The caterer is probably on my doorstep right now.”

“You can text them from the helicopter and cancel. I’ll cover any costs.” He towed her toward the helicopter.

She stumbled along after him, ducking beneath the whirling blades, trying to keep her skirt from flying up. “I’ve got an appointment.”

“Won’t wash. You already told me you had nothing scheduled this afternoon.”

“What about your conference call?” There was a note of desperation in her voice now.

“No problem. I have an office aboard the yacht.”

”Well, then…I’m not dressed for a yacht.” She indicated her spiked high heels.

He halted at the struts where the pilot had positioned a block of steps. “The ship is fully stocked with spare clothes and bathing suits.”

“Um…” She bit her lip, brow furrowed.

Giorgio waited impatiently for her next flimsy excuse. Something was definitely going on. She’d just met with Tina that morning. Tina wanted something from him too. “Did you by any chance invite anyone else to lunch?” he inquired silkily.