He watched the delicious sway of her hips as she exited the room, the view threatening to bring him to his knees. “Damn, woman,” he muttered. “There’s every need. And I plan to prove it to you.”
But he’d better figure out how, and fast. Because if he’d learned nothing else as a result of the past few hours, he’d discovered how wrong he’d been about The Inferno and all matters related toit.
He’d been determined to woo Francesca away from the Fontaines and have her work for Dantes. To tempt her—not with sex—but with the financial advantages of working for Dantes. Or that had been his intention until he’d come face-to-face with one incontrovertible fact. Afact that sent his carefully laid plans crumbling to dust. There was no way in hell he could keep his hands off her now, or anytime in the near future. As of this minute, the plan changed.
Not only did he want to uproot her from Timeless Heirlooms so the company would be more vulnerable to a Dantes’ takeover, but he also wanted to transplant Francesca into his bed and keep her there.
At least until The Inferno burned itselfout.
Chapter Five
Foolishly,Francesca assumed she’d seen the last ofSev.
The delusion lasted right up until she decided to eat lunch at her desk, ordering from her favorite deli, aplace that offered fast delivery service and thick sandwiches, stuffed with every imaginable delicacy. Within thirty minutes her sandwich arrived, along with a sprig of vivid-blue forget-me-nots, their delicate scent sweetening the air in her tiny office.
“Thank you,” she said to the delivery boy before burying her nose in the fragrant blossoms. “What a nice thing to do.”
He eyed her speculatively. “Do I get an extra tip for bein’ so nice?”
“Absolutely.” She handed it over with a smile. “And thanks again.”
“No sweat. The flowers weren’t from me, by the way. There’s a note that came with them. Istuck it in the bag with your sandwich.” With a cheeky grin he darted from the office.
She couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity. Then curiosity got the better of her. She opened the bag and found a business card tucked inside. She glanced at it and, to her dismay, her fingers trembled. Sure enough, the linen-colored pasteboard had Sev’s name and business information typed on the front. On the back, he’d scrawledRemember.
Somehow, he’d figured out where she usually ordered lunch. And for some reason, she spent the rest of the day sniffing the forget-me-nots as she struggled to do as he asked and remember... remember that dating Sev promised a fast end to a short career. Worse, it would put an even faster end to her burgeoning relationship with her father. Her mouth firmed. She wouldn’t allow anyone—not even a man as sexy as Severo Dante—to interfere with either of those two goals.
The next morning on her way to work, she swung into her favorite Starbucks, desperate for caffeine after a sleepless night of wishing she were in Sev’s bed once more. To her dismay, the line stretched long and wide and she schooled herself to patience. Far ahead, toward the front, she caught a glimpse of a distinctive set of shoulders and striking ebony hair. Unbidden, her heart kicked up a notch and the air escaped her lungs in a softrush.
It wasn’t Severo Dante, she silently scolded, and constantly obsessing over him wasn’t goingto help matters. She refused to see Sev in every man with an impressive build and dark coloring. She needed to get a grip. Deliberately, she forced her gaze away only to catch herself peeking at him as he finished paying and turned to leave.
This time the breath exploded from her in an audible gasp as she realized itwasSev. He came directly toward her with the languid grace so uniquely his, carrying a pair of cappuccinos. He handed her one with a warm smile and a quiet,“Tesoro mio,”before continuing out thedoor.
“Oh, God,” the woman behind her said with a groan. “Does that happen to you often?”
“No.” Francesca stared at the cappuccino, then at the door through which Sev had vanished, before glancing at the woman behind her. “At least... not until recently.”
“I don’t suppose you know whattesoro miomeans?” Before Francesca could respond, the woman shouted out, “Hey, who knows whattesoro miomeans?”
“Italian. It means my treasure,” an older woman toward the front of the line calledback.
“Wow,” Francesca’s companion in line murmured. “Just, wow.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Francesca knocked back the drink Sev had given her in the vain hope it would pull her out of the sensual stupor fogging her brain. It didn’t. Instead, she spent the next twenty-four hours daydreaming abouthim.
The next morning, Friday, she wasted her entire time in line searching in vain for Sev’s distinctive build. She refused to be disappointed when she didn’t spot him, and even came up with a handful of reasonable excuses for lingering in the small bistro while she sipped her drink. But he never showed.
When she arrived at work, she was stunned to discover a blown-glass vase sitting on her desk with a new flower to replace the forget-me-nots, this time a sprig of orange blossoms. The white star-shaped blooms caressed the flame-red glass, the contrast between the two colors quite striking. Unable to resist, she picked up the vase, the sweet perfume of the flowers flooding her senses while the delicate glasswork warmed within herhold.
It was an incredible piece with sinuous curves that flowed from base to stem and seemed to beg for her touch. Had Sev stroked it, just as she was now doing? Were her fingers tracing the same path his had taken? It was a distinct possibility, since no one who held this gorgeous creation could resist running their fingers along the flowing lines of the fiery glass.
“Oh.My.”Tina came to peer over Francesca’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“It’s a gift.”
“And orange blossoms.Très romantique!”
