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He noticed an ereader on the floor next to his foot, so he stooped down to collect it. In the fracas, the device must have landed on the power button. The screen showed a page of text, and when Nico squinted he let out a bark of a laugh. Miss I-Can-Pack-A-Punch was reading one hell of a book.
I want you to fuck me. Hard. Take your big cock and bend me over.
Her eyes widened as she looked at the device and saw it was on.
“Give it to me. Now. I mean…crap. Give the ereader to me.” She cringed as he handed it over, hugging it to her torso like a protective shield. “How much did you see?”
“Not much,” he replied. “I stopped reading after bend me over.”
A flush of embarrassment pinkened her cheeks, matching the pretty shade of her lips. Stunning. He especially liked the way her hands fluttered at her neck. He’d expected a woman reading such bold words to be a little more confident, but the contradiction grabbed his attention. He was always attracted to those.
“Oh god.” She pressed a palm to her face. “How’s the jaw?”
He chuckled. “I’ll live. I’ve taken worse punches.”
Actually it damn well stung like a bitch, but he didn’t want to make her feel bad. She’d only been trying to protect herself. And he was pretty damn impressed by her swing.
It was lucky he’d even noticed her coming out of the café with Daniel Halsey, otherwise she’d have more than a broken handbag to worry about.
What had her brother told her? That Nico was a cold-hearted bastard? An asshole? Probably. It’s not like he could dispute it. One didn’t make it to his level by being nice or by accepting every “life-changing” offer that came his way.
The Australian man had come to him so full of energy and excitement, wide-eyed with naïveté. A system that could allow people to crowdsource cryptocurrency price predictions? Right, and why would Nico want to endorse that? He’d made success by learning the ropes and honing his ability to marry gut instinct with a critical mind. By doing the work. Predictions were worthless without an experienced man in possession of them, and assuming anyone could do what Nico did by simply sourcing a bunch of predictions was even more of an insult.
Nico had shut the meeting down quickly. If Daniel Halsey had bothered to agree to a phone meeting first, he could have saved himself a flight. But the man had obviously assumed he could talk his way into Nico’s endorsement easier in person. More fool him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have punched you.” She bit down on her lip. “I took a few self-defense lessons at university, and I guess all that training must have been waiting for a moment to be used.”
Her skin was slightly damp with perspiration, and it gave her an ethereal glow. The fabric of her white sundress clung to her in patches, making the conservative cut sexier than it should have been. Nico was surprised to notice his normal urge for solitude was absent around this woman. He found himself wanting to know more about her.
“Apology accepted,” he replied.
The crowd had dispersed now, the thief long gone. Corfu was a mostly safe place, but anywhere tourists congregated there would be someone looking to take advantage.
“Can I buy you a drink to say thanks for saving my wallet?” she asked. Her dark eyes bored into him, unsettling something deep inside his chest.
Nico raised a brow. Most often women expected him to buy drinks. Not that he planned on letting her pay, mind you. And any bartender in Corfu wouldn’t take Nico’s money even if he offered it. One of the perks of being rich enough that everyone wanted you drinking at their establishment. Not that Nico got out much these days, mind you.
What had his business partner called him the other day? A hermit?
But that was beside the point. He shouldn’t be fraternizing with the sister of a man he’d just rejected for a business deal. There was always a chance that it could end badly.
“I’m Bianca, by the way.”
Bianca? Nico frowned. Daniel had mentioned his sister in passing, calling her Marianna. Unless he was mistaken in assuming they were related? Daniel had kissed the top of her head with such platonic affection that Nico would have been shocked if they weren’t close.
“I’m Nico.”
He accepted her hand and closed it in his fist, surprising himself at the steady hum in his blood. From a distance, he might have simply called her pretty. But up close there was a subtle complexity to her, a depth only those with a keen eye would see. And he was a man who loved details.
Long, dark hair tumbled down her back. It was so dark one might mistake it for being black, but the shade was so much more interesting than that. Sunlight bounced off strands rich with red and gold undertones, giving them a faint but fiery gleam. Her skin was incredibly fair, her eyelashes long and dark. Thick. They framed wide eyes the color of rich cocoa.
Whatever this woman was playing at with her fake name, she’d officially intrigued him.
“Sure, let’s get a drink,” he said. “But how about we find you a new bag, first?”
