“No?You’ve been playing with both Angelina and Ms. Fischer. And while Ms. Fischer might forgive you, Angelina will not.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me—”
“I dare?” Alessandro’s anger slipped its leash. “You slipped a two-million-dollar ring onto Angelina’s fingers not an hour ago.”
“I can’t explain it. Not that you’ll ever understand because you don’t have a heart.” His brother faced him, his mouth turned into a sneer. It had been always like this: Matteo messed up, and he cleaned up. And yet nothing but resentment festered in his brother’s heart for him. “Half an hour in your company and you turned her against me.”
“Stop it, Matteo,” Ms. Fischer whispered, her expression stricken. “You did this. You’ve made me doubt our whole relationship, doubt myself.”
A knock sounded, a sudden boom amidst their ridiculous standoff. “Matteo, are you in there?” came Angelina’s voice.
Ms. Fischer’s head jerked in Alessandro’s direction, eyes wide.
She trustedhim. Which meant he could get them all out of this predicament before Vittorio decided his family’s honor had been insulted. Or that Matteo needed to be taught a lesson.
“Papà wants to give us our engagement present,” called out Angelina.
Another knock came hard on the heels of her voice. “Alessandro? Is Matteo with you?” The voice of Vittorio Bianchi thundered through the hardwood. “My nephew said he saw a woman in your office. Who is it?”
Alessandro cursed. “If he even gets a whiff of you two-timing his daughter,” he whispered to Matteo, “Vittorio will break your knees. I am so angry I don’t think I’ll stand in his way. So go along with what I say.” He flicked a glance toward Ms. Fischer. “Come here, Ms. Fischer.”
Matteo’s glare turned sullen.
Fortunately, Ms. Fischer possessed more common sense than his brother. When she came close enough for him, Alessandro softened his tone. “Let them think you’re mine. A certain familiarity will be required.” He ignored the possessive satisfaction that ran through him as he made the claim.Cristo, he was acting worse than Matteo.
She leaned against the desk like him, leaving too much space between them. “I don’t want Matteo to get into trouble.” Her lush rose scent made every muscle in him curl with want. “Nor do I want to cause Ms. Bianchi distress.”
Alessandro felt a fresh surge of tenderness for her soft heart. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her close. Instant heat uncurled through his middle, spreading to his limbs. Her waist was tiny, the flare of her hip where his fingers landed a sharp delineation. But there was a lean strength to her that entranced him.
Every inch of him was aware of every point of contact between them. He wanted to deepen it until she could no more think of Matteo than Alessandro could think of another woman.
She was a complication, he reminded himself. A walking, talking disaster waiting to blow up in their faces. The faster he got her out of their lives, the better for everyone involved. Including her.
And yet, he knew, with a deep conviction, that he would do everything in his power to keep her around. At least, until he could figure out what about her fascinated him so.
Chapter Three
ALESSANDRORICCI WASthe last man she should allow familiarity, Sam reminded herself.
Not that he wanted to be anywhere near her. His austere features spoke eloquently to his distaste at being thrust with her responsibility.
But the corded weight of his arm around her waist, the press of his muscled body holding her up felt like heaven. Made her want to sink into him until her exhaustion fled. Until she felt safe again.
One stolen glance at his granite jawline made her spine straighten. This man was as safe as Matteo was trustworthy.
Matteo, who had got engaged to another woman the moment they had broken up, who had been seeing Angelina Bianchi while Sam had struggled with losing interest in him. Who had probably forgotten her the moment it was over while she had called herselfweak,boring, andscared.
She even acknowledged that her hurt came from him doing all those exciting things that she couldn’t with Angelina, rather than from him falling in love with her.
Because she was a heart patient who still lived at home at the age of twenty-three, a dull woman among bold, risk-taking twentysomethings. She hadn’t finished high school or gone to college or gone even on a sleepover unless it was with her cousin Kavi at her aunt’s place, with her mom in the next room.
Now she was in a foreign country where she didn’t know another soul. She’d hoped to repair their friendship after their breakup. The entire summer stretched in front of her, static, inert, directionless—the same as it had been for the past decade.
It had taken her so long to break away from the limitations placed on her by her body. From the rut that loneliness had placed her in. From the protective shell of her parents’ suffocating love.
Without Matteo’s company, where would she go? Could she look after herself? Financially, yes. Living with her parents meant she’d saved every dollar she’d earned from her summer jobs and her portrait commissions. But what would she do in Italy alone? After all the planning and months of fighting her innate fears to get herself here, should she simply turn around and go back?
Her phone pinged.
