Making over the Billionaire (an Italian Connection Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (9 page)

Chapter Eight

Giorgio gripped Layla’s hand tightly as they wove through the surging crowds outside the stadium. They could have entered through the VIP private entrance, but he wanted Layla to experience the excitement of an Italian football match. The blare of hand-held horns, the waving sponge fingers, the fans dressed in their team colors—it all took him back to his carefree youth.

“Are soccer games always this rowdy?” Layla asked as they passed a group of chanting young men wearing Real Madrid jerseys.

“Italians are a passionate people, and football is our national sport,” he said.

“Soccer,” she insisted, despite conceding to him earlier.

“Football.” He smiled indulgently, happy to forgive her for being wrong. After their amazing sex this afternoon he was in the most benevolent mood he’d been in for months. Or was it years? She was uninhibited and sensual. The sounds she made as she came, the way she moved her hips, and those breasts, so full and ripe—

Abruptly, he squashed those thoughts. He was getting hard, and this was no place to deal with arousal. But later tonight…

The jostling increased as the crowd funneled through the narrow gate. He was pushed into a man with a shaved head wearing the pale blue Naples jersey. “
Scusi
.”

“
Non problem
,” the other man said and there was something very familiar about his voice. “Gino?
Mio vecchio amico
?”

Giorgio’s head swiveled. Who was calling him old friend? “Antonio!”

“Gino!” Antonio threw his arms around him and gave him a resounding kiss on both cheeks. Then he drew back to look at him. “Lisa, look who it is!” He turned to his pretty blond companion, whom Giorgio recognized as Antonio’s long-time girlfriend.

“
Ciao
, Lisa. I can’t believe you’re still dating this scoundrel.” His thoughts and emotions tumbled, dark mixed with light, joy with pain. Naples, the yacht, the Amalfi coast—they all carried reminders of the past. He’d been on his way to meet Antonio in Positano the night of the accident. How had he thought he could come here and not have to face those memories at every turn?

“I’m marrying him.” Lisa held up her ring finger to show off an emerald-cut diamond. “You must come to the wedding. It’s in the fall, at the restaurant. Please say you will. You’ve been away too long.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise. Work, you know.” He drew Layla forward. “This is Layla Langham. She’s from Seattle, here for fashion week in Rome.”

“
Ciao
,” Layla said. “Nice to meet you both.”

“Come for lunch tomorrow, both of you,” Antonio said, clapping Giorgio on the back. “It will be like old times.”

Layla cleared her throat. “What about Sunday instead, for Giorgio’s birthday? His sister, Tina, is coming down.”

“Even better,” Antonio said.

“She’s more interested in Tina than in me,” Giorgio said, smiling but a muscle ticked in his jaw. Layla had just maneuvered his friends into joining in her scheme to keep him here, not just overnight but now for the whole weekend.

“He’s joking.” She turned to him. “I was hoping you’d show me the Blue Grotto tomorrow. And why not wait until Tina’s here? You should spend your birthday with family.”

“It’s settled,” Lisa said. “Sunday it is.”

“I will think about it,” Giorgio said. “No promises. I have pressing matters to attend to in Rome. We’re not building our plans around Tina.”

The queue edged toward the gate, where a uniformed man was taking tickets.

“Where are you sitting?” Lisa asked. “We’re in Section D7, Row 18.”

“I’ve got a corporate box,” Giorgio said. “Why don’t you join us? There will likely be a few people from the Naples office, but there’s plenty of room plus food and drink.”

“Thanks, but I’ve been in those boxes, and I prefer the stands.” Antonio handed his tickets to be torn in half and held a sponge finger aloft. “It’s more fun.”

Giorgio showed his season pass, and he and Layla were given lanyards to hang around their necks to show they were in a corporate box. They said goodbye to Antonio and Lisa and parted ways.

As he and Layla went up in the private elevator, she ran a hand up his shirt, playing with the top button. “Your friends are nice. How long have you known them?”

“Since I was a child. We grew up together in Naples. Their restaurant is in Sorrento.” A surge of nostalgia flooded him with memories of carefree days filled with laughter and friendship. Antonio still seemed to be that fun-loving guy he remembered. Part of him wished he could be, too. But that era of his life had ended abruptly on his twenty-first birthday.

She rose on her toes and kissed him lightly. “It would be fun to go there.”

He put his arms around her waist. “You haven’t seen an Italian family lunch. It goes on for hours, endless talking and eating and drinking. Arguing with siblings, getting teased by aunties, shrieking children…”

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, almost wistfully. Then she traced a fingertip across his lips. The smooth slide sent fire into his veins, igniting the desire that was never far from the surface around her.

He cupped her breast and caressed the firm, resilient flesh, then took her mouth greedily, running his hands down her back to hold that sweet, round ass tight to his erection.
Dio mio,
he was going to be in agony until they could get back to the boat.

The car stopped and the doors opened into a windowless private office in the back of the corporate box. Outside he could hear the murmur of male voices. He locked the door, then reached for Layla. Her eyes glowed as he backed her against the wall and pushed up her skirt. He slipped a finger inside her and groaned at how hot and wet and tight she was. He thought he couldn’t get harder but he was wrong. She wrapped a leg around his hip as he quickly unzipped and covered himself with a condom from his back pocket. He thrust into her and she met him eagerly, moaning her approval with each stroke of his cock. Their locked gaze was intense. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as her breasts jiggled with each pump. It was unbearably erotic. Feeling his climax approaching he slipped a hand between them and rubbed his thumb over her clit. Her gasp as she came increased his own pleasure and he shuddered his release.

He eased out of her and adjusted his clothing, discreetly wrapping the used condom in a tissue from the box on the desk. He dropped it into a trashcan while Layla finished repairing herself. Then he took her in his arms and just held her, full of jumbled emotions. “You make me lose control and act against my better judgment.”

She slid a hand down between them, cupping his satiated cock. “This
is
your better judgment if it makes you happy. Can you say as much for the Chinese?”

“I’d almost forgotten about Chang.” What she said was true. Sex with her did make him happy. But it was more than the sex.
She
made him happy. He hadn’t felt like this about a woman in a long time, if he’d ever felt so strongly. To hell with work. For tonight, at least. He didn’t want to think about anything but Layla.

And football, of course. Attending his team’s matches was another simple pleasure he’d denied himself for too long. Under his breath, he hummed the Naples Tigers song, his heart lifting in anticipation of the evening ahead. With a last kiss, he drew away. “Ready to go out?”

She nodded. He opened the door, and they stepped into the luxuriously appointed room, where a buffet table and a bar had been set up along the back wall. An executive from the Naples office stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the stadium with two other men. At the sight of their suits and ties Giorgio’s ebullient mood dampened. Even with Layla at his side, and amazing sex, he couldn’t take a break from business for very long.

“Thanks to you, I’ve worked up quite an appetite,” she said, eyeing the buffet.

“Help yourself. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He went up to the men and introduced himself. “Tino, is that right?” he asked the Naples man who was shorter and darker than the other two.

“
Si
. Tino Contafio.” He shook Giorgio’s hand. “I manage the southern division of Borlenghi Furniture, working under your sister, Francesca. These are my guests, Hans Schmidt and Jurgen Gerhard, from Berlin.” In Italian, he added, “I’m hoping to close a deal today. They own the largest furniture distribution company in Germany and are considering importing Borlenghi furniture.”

“If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” Giorgio said also in Italian.

“
Grazie
.” Contafio smiled and nodded at the Germans. “I can tell they’re already impressed just by meeting you.”

Giorgio spoke in German to the visitors. “Please, enjoy yourselves and the Borlenghi hospitality. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” He exchanged a few more pleasantries, alternating between Italian and German and English—the common language of both parties. He shook their hands before joining Layla.

She was filling a plate with grilled prawns and other delicacies. “What would you like?”

He trailed a hand down her back and leaned in to whisper, “You.”

A delicate rose flush came into her cheeks. “I was the first course,” she murmured. “And I imagine I’ll be dessert.”

“I can’t wait.” He asked the bartender to bring over a bottle of champagne. Then he helped her carry their snacks to comfortable chairs in front of window overlooking the center of the field.

“Which soccer team are we cheering for again?” Layla asked, sipping her wine.

“Naples, in the powder blue jersey,” Giorgio said. “And it’s football.”

She smiled at him, her eyes dancing. “Soccer.”

Distracted by her, he missed the opening toss of the ball. But his attention was soon riveted as Naples took control of play and kicked the ball far down the field into the Real Madrid defensive zone.

Giorgio was on the edge of his seat, hands clenched. In a thrilling play, the right forward passed the ball to the striker. A bit of fancy footwork, a feint, a dodge of the Real Madrid defense, and the Naples striker kicked the ball into the goal, high above the keeper’s head. Conscious of the more reserved Germans and that Contafio was schmoozing his guests, Giorgio restrained himself from leaping to his feet and shouting in glee at his team scoring so early in the game.

Layla had no such inhibitions. She was on her feet, arms in the air, whooping. “What’s wrong with you?” she demanded. “Your team just got a point.”

“I’m very pleased.” He indicated the other occupants of the box with a discreet nod. “It doesn’t do for the boss to act unseemly.”

“Unseemly?” She shook her head, incredulously. “For goodness sake. It’s only human to jump up and down when your team gets a goal. You Italians are supposed to be so passionate and fiery. You’re like a robot.”

She was right. He was suppressing his natural instincts for the sake of propriety. But the corporate box was to entertain business associates, not go crazy over a football game. His gaze turned to the field below. Naples had the ball again and was making another run on goal. Two points in the first ten minutes would be amazing. The right forward lined up to kick. Giorgio started to surge to his feet before he remembered himself and sat down again. His foot tapped restlessly.

“Can I borrow your pass? I need to go to the bathroom,” Layla said. “I don’t know what I’ve done with mine.”

Without taking his eyes off the game, he unlooped his pass from around his neck and handed it over.

She was gone a long time. The minutes were counting down to the end of the first quarter and the ball was deep in Naples defensive zone when Layla returned and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come with me.”

“Not now.” He reached absently for her hand and kissed her palm, his gaze glued to the teams moving about the field. “The play is getting exciting.”

“Yes, now.” She tugged on his hand. “We’re going where the action is.”

The ball went out of bounds and the referee blew his whistle. Giorgio glanced up. “What are you talking about?” Looking past her he saw two boys in their late teens, gazing around the corporate box in awe. His and Layla’s passes were hanging around their necks. “What’s going on?”

“Meet Sergio and Marco,” Layla said. “They’re Antonio’s nephews and their seats are next to Lisa and him. We’re changing places with them.” She turned to the youths. “Don’t go crazy at the buffet, don’t drink too much, and don’t bother the other occupants of the box.” Sergio and Luigi nodded earnestly. She pulled on Giorgio’s hand again. “Please just try it. If you don’t like it, we’ll come back.”

“But…” He glanced over his shoulder. “The Germans.”

“Your
Signor
Contafio will take care of them.” She towed him determinedly from the room.

Giorgio gave up and followed, amused at her audacity, especially when she grabbed Sergio’s sponge finger on her way out. They made their way down the steps to their new seats just as Real Madrid scored a goal against Naples. A roar of dismay went up from the crowd. He felt the collective disappointment deep inside his chest. Yes, it would be more exciting out here among the throng but also he would feel any defeat more strongly, too. Inside the glass corporate box he was insulated.

He didn’t have long to wonder which he preferred, though, as Layla nudged him into a seat next to his friend.

“Just like old times,” Antonio greeted him. Then their attention was diverted as Naples offensive players swiftly passed the ball down the pitch.

The digital scoreboard read one all. The last seconds of the first quarter ticked down as Naples closed in on their opponent’s goal. The crowd surged to their feet. Giorgio was swept up in the thrill of the play, and when the striker kicked from twenty yards away, sinking a goal deep in the upper right corner of the goal, his hands flew up and he waved the sponge finger and roared along with everyone else. The light over the goal flashed red to indicate a score a split second before the buzzer sounded, ending the quarter.

Giorgio clapped his arms around Antonio in a bear hug. The intervening years fell away, and they rocked together, laughing and cheering. Then he turned to Layla and lifted her high in the air.