Though, Alessandro hadn’t agreed just because of the Bianchis’ investment. Angelina had a solid head on her shoulders, was a smart businesswoman who would one day inherit the Bianchi fortune and was exactly the kind of grounding partner Matteo needed.
Hopefully Alessandro wouldn’t have to deal any more with Matteo’s failed business ventures, the rowdy crowd that mooched off him in return for their adulation, and the debt holes he seemed to fall into. If Angelina could get him involved in Ricci International Finances, Alessandro would have nothing to worry about.
The outline of a young woman standing outside the crowd caught his interest. Dressed in a chunky sweater, skinny jeans and dark boots, she stood out in a sea of laughing, chattering, designer-clad party guests.
The lights around the fountain cast a glow on her face, highlighting the wide, lush lips and a nose too big for her small face. Her skin was a smooth golden brown, lighter than his.
Slowly, she moved toward the wide steps leading to the villa, her long neck tilted up, the strap of her crossbody bag highlighting her slender frame and into the circle of light created by huge floodlights, exactly where she’d be best illuminated.
So that he could get his fill of her… The thought startled him. But not enough to pull his interest away.
The woman’s neck moved this way and that as she surveyed the house, like a baby bird hesitant to leave its nest, fingers playing with the hem of her sweater.
Then she sighed, pulled her bag off, tugged at the hem of her sweater before peeling it off her body. A breeze pressed the silky sleeveless blouse with its high ruffled neckline against her, highlighting small breasts, a thin waist and bony hips. With her collarbones jutting out, she bordered on skinny.
A small smile played around her lips. She finger-combed her hair until it fell in waves around her face. The motion tugged her blouse upward, revealing a silky strip of her midriff. Something glinted at her belly button.
Lust was a punch to his stomach. He looked away, wondering what the hell was happening to him. Gawking at a young woman, getting hard at the mere sight of her. It was bare seconds before his gaze returned to her.
Making a pout of her lips, she applied lipstick, straightened her shoulders and started walking up the steps.
There was an innate sensuality to her movements. Something achingly real and courageous in her smile as she fought her nervousness.
He put the tumbler in his hand on the windowsill as he realized why he was drawn to her. He recognized what it took her to shake off her fears and step into the night. To step back into life. It was a step he hadn’t taken in eighteen years. Not that he’d wanted to.
She possessed the same hunger for life he had known once.
Suddenly, he was sick of the cloying quietness of his bedroom, the echoing isolation of his own thoughts.
He wanted to be outside where she was, wanted to know what was so precious that she’d fought her doubts. He wanted to taste the magic of that smile on her lips, breathe it in. Steal the very real joy in it.
A fierce longing stabbed through him, reminding him that he was very much alive.
He wanted her, in whatever capacity or form he could have her.
Sam was perusing the shelves in the grand study she’d come across when she heard the heavy double doors open behind her.
When she’d finally dived into the crowd to find Matteo, it had been hard to navigate the gigantic mansion, not counting the grounds and the marquee. For all that she’d hoped that her silk blouse was an upgrade from the worn sweater, she had still stood out. Luckily, she’d wandered inside in search of Matteo and a quieter spot and happened upon this room.
Now that the moment was finally here, she felt a sudden reluctance to face Matteo. Would he appreciate her coming all the way here when he hadn’t replied to her texts? Was he still mad at her for being the one to finally end their faltering relationship?
She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. The comforting scent of old books and cigars and leather instantly transported her to her grandfather’s cottage she used to visit as a child. The peace and quiet of the room seeped into her skin as she walked around, centering her after the noise of the party outside.
The large mahogany desk with its worn edges, the soft leather chair with the imprint of a body, the well-thumbed pages of several books on classical music and ancient civilizations… The room was full of character. An utter contrast to the extravagant wealth outside.
It was a room that was lived in and loved well—someone’s sanctuary. Just like her attic room at her parents’ house. It definitely wasn’t Matteo’s. She rushed out of the cozy reading nook, imagining his surprise. His naughty grin. The familiar comfort of his arms around her. The way he’d always made her laugh…
The man leaning against the doors wasn’t Matteo, but the one that belonged to this study.
He held a striking resemblance to Matteo, though. Where Matteo had light brown eyes, dark blond hair and features that bordered on pretty with their lushness, this man was darker, leaner, almost severe. A high forehead, deep-set eyes, sharp bridge of a nose and thin lips with a jawline that she could sharpen her mother’s knives on.
Together, his features created an impression of a darkly masculine sensuousness that made her keenly aware of her own skin. Of the wild beat of her heart. Of her pulse racing madly all over her body.
If Matteo was light and charm and laughter, this man was darkness and passion and something she didn’t understand. Unlike everyone else in the crowd, he didn’t wear a tuxedo. Also unlike everyone else, he didn’t need diamond cuff links or designer clothes to call attention to himself.
He stood with his back to the closed doors, ankles crossed, his head tilted to the side, his fathomless dark eyes taking her in greedily. As if he’d been waiting to look at her.
He was tall. So tall that at five nine, if she walked up to him, her mouth would fit at the hollow of his throat exactly. The tight-fitting shirt hugged a leanly muscled torso and made his dull gray eyes pop. Unbuttoned to his chest, it revealed the corded column of his throat, and Sam had the insane urge to lick that hollow…
