“They’ve plenty of life left in them, bella. You are only twenty-six. And believe me, I do want you to myself for a while.”
Tonight. To strangle her. To find out what had happened to the nerve-racked woman he’d arrived in New York with.
Olivia stared innocently back at him, using her big doe eyes to full effect. “Oh, I want that, too. I know what we’ve agreed upon, sweetheart... It’s just that when I think of little Roccos with dark curly hair and big brown eyes, I find it hard to resist.”
“Who could?” Stefan drawled facetiously. “If we populated the world with millions of little Roccos, it would be a better place.”
“And the hands...” Olivia picked one of his up and showed it off. “Rocco has great hands, but they’ll be chubby little amazing ones to begin with.”
Stefan nodded. “No doubt about it. Mondelli has great hands. Many a woman would attest to that, but now that he’s taken, too bad for them, hmm?”
Rocco bit down on the inside of his mouth. Counted to three. “I am famished,” he asserted in a blatant change of subject. “Should we look at the menu?”
“The chef has prepared a special celebratory meal.” Stefan eliminated that distraction with a wave of his hand and a glimmer of laughter in his dark eyes. “Sit back and enjoy.”
Rocco attempted to. The vibe in Stefan’s new restaurant was high energy, the food as they tasted their appetizers superb, the easy familiarity of the conversation with his longtime friend enjoyable. It was Olivia who was the problem. If she’d been sitting any closer to him she’d be in his lap. Her spicy perfume, which he found he enjoyed a bit too much, kept invading his thinking processes. And her hands were everywhere... Caressing his fingers on the table, massaging his thigh. And now she’d slipped her shoe off and was—what did the Americans call it? Playing footsie with him!
Santo Cielo.
He frowned and focused intently on the idea Stefan was proposing for a Knights of Columbia charity basketball game fund-raiser. “I think it fits perfectly with our mission statement,” he agreed. “And if you can get the players, we’re golden. When were you thinking?”
Stefan lifted a brow. “I just told you—late September so we can play outside.”
He closed his eyes briefly as Olivia’s inquisitive fingers investigated the contents of his pocket, then slid back out again. “Right. Sorry.”
“Can I help?” Olivia leaned forward, all halo-endowed innocence. “I’m in my element at a fund-raiser. I can cheer you on.”
Rocco watched his friend keep his eyes above her plunging neckline. Just. “By all means,” Stefan said wryly. “Half the men in New York would show up to see you.” He passed his palm over the heavy stubble on his chin. “Would you consider doing a promotional poster for us?”
“No, she wouldn’t,” Rocco inserted. “My fiancée is not a pinup model.”
“She was.”
“It’s true,” Olivia offered. “I don’t mind. Those were fun shoots.”
“No.” The word exploded out of his mouth as Olivia slid her finger up the zipper of his pants and traced the rigid length of him. He was on fire. Literally on fire. He reached down, picked up her hand and slapped it down on her thigh, then rose from the table.
“I need to make a call.” He directed the words at Stefan. “Entertain my fiancée, would you?”
“That won’t be difficult.” Stefan’s amused comment sidled through the air to him as he walked away.
He exited the front door of the restaurant and stood leaning against the facade of the building while he made his call, his only company on the street another diner in a designer suit smoking a cigarette. When he finished, he stayed there for a moment, breathing in the fresh air. Attempting to regain control over his tense, aroused body.
Stefan strolled out the front door and over to where he stood. “Cooling off? Where was her hand, by the way?”
Rocco gave him a dark look. “Where is she?”
“In the ladies’.” Stefan moved his gaze over him and shook his head. “She has your number, my friend. You have it bad. I feel as if I’m watching Rocco unplugged.”
He wanted badly to tell his friend it was a facade. That she, Olivia, was playing a necessary role. Trying to drive him mad while she was at it... But he couldn’t risk everything he’d put into this investment by being anything less than fully committed. Blood brothers or otherwise.
He pulled on the cloak of aloofness he did every bit as well as Stefan. “She is a handful. But honestly,” he challenged, quirking a brow at his friend, “would you want anything else?”
Stefan eyed him. “Perhaps not. I guess I’m wondering if the board’s POV on you has anything to do with this sudden engagement.”
His insides tensed. “You think I care what they think?”
Stefan leaned back against the wall beside him. “I’m just saying marriage is a big step. This is all very sudden.” He waved a hand at him. “So she’s beautiful. So she’s good in bed. Those are a dime a dozen for you, fratello. Enjoy her, but think hard about what you’re doing.”
Rocco turned to face him. Wondered why he felt the unusual urge to put his fist through his friend’s face. “She’s a good choice for me and for the brand.”
“Maybe. But you’re grieving over your grandfather. Give yourself some time before you do something stupid.”
“That’s why we’re planning a long engagement.” Rocco gave the Sicilian an assessing look. “When are you going to get over Serena? No one wants to say it, but it’s time.”
The guarded, impenetrable expression that seemed to be his friend’s de facto look of late descended over his square-jawed face. “I’ve been over Serena for a long time.”
“You think so?”
Stefan stared him down. “You think you’re in control of your little situation in there?”
No. He decidedly was not. But he was about to fix that.
* * *
The deliberate twist of the key in the lock of the apartment door echoed excessively loudly in Olivia’s ears after the loaded silence in the car coming home. The explosive look on Rocco’s face as they’d driven through the relatively quiet streets of Manhattan made her wonder if she’d taken her exercise in distraction a bit too far.
He stood back for her to enter, his long, lean body taut, his face so blank that adrenaline pounded through her in a disconcerting rush. Hadn’t she done her job? She’d really gotten into her role as fiancée. Even Stefan had seemed to enjoy himself... And she hadn’t thought about tomorrow’s press conference even once, which was an added bonus.
The door slammed shut. She winced and turned to face him.
“What
