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
