Page 20 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

Zoe looked down at Houdini, who had stilled as if by magic and was staring up at her with those intelligent eyes that seemed to see into her soul. If she didn’t know better, she could swear he understood her. She’d read somewhere that pigs were smarter and more trainable than cats or dogs. Maybe she could train him to use a litter box. She stood a way better chance of convincing Dante to let her keep him if he was house-trained.

She kissed the pig’s fuzzy head and tugged the zipper of her sweatshirt up higher, hiding him. She didn’t plan on running into Dante, who hadn’t made an appearance before noon since their adventures in interior decorating, but she wasn’t taking any chances. And if he did grace them with his presence, she mentally crossed her fingers he wouldn’t question why she was wearing a hoodie when the temperature was over seventy degrees.

“Okay.” She stroked Houdini’s back soothingly through the soft cotton of her sweatshirt. “We’re going in. Remember, no noise. And stay still.”

Zoe tiptoed across the terrace to the sliding glass door, favoring her injured foot. Holding her breath, she inched it open, stepped through, then slid it shut behind her, the click of the latch echoing in the cavernous living room. She froze and said a silent prayer the noise hadn’t roused her roommate. After a few seconds of silence, she let out a relieved sigh, confident Dante was still snug in his bed. Probably naked, given his aversion to clothing. Her mouth watered at the mental image of his broad, bare chest rising and falling with each deep breath, his powerful arms stretched above his head, his face relaxed in sleep, those thick, envy-inducing lashes lying dormant on his olive-skinned cheeks—

No, no, no, no, no.This wasn’t the time for dirty daydreams, dammit. She had a pig to protect. A pig who was strangely still.

She worked the zipper down to check on him. The little stinker lay snuggled contentedly against her, his snout burrowed under her sports bra between her breasts.

“Pervert,” she scolded softly with a smile. “But if that’s what it takes to keep you quiet, I’m not complaining.”

Heck, she’d even give him a treat if they made it to her room undetected. What did pigs eat, anyway? She needed to do some Googling. She hadn’t thought beyond smuggling Houdini past Dante. How was she supposed to care for a pig? Where would he sleep? How much exercise did he need? And what would happen when it was time for her to go home? Could she take him with her, or would she have to find a home for him in Italy?

But all that could wait. Right now, her priority was getting Houdini safely hidden. And that meant getting him through the newly redesigned living room—which came out pretty great, if she did say so herself—up the stairs, and past Dante’s bedroom without being discovered.

“Are you coming or going?” an all-too-familiar male voice asked.

She turned away from the sliding glass doors and jumped at the sight of Dante lounging against the wall. At least he was fully dressed this time, although his tight T-shirt and athletic shorts did nothing to conceal the breath-stealing perfection of his body.

“What the hell?” Zoe squealed, startling Houdini, who wriggled in her arms. She tightened her hold on the frightened animal, hoping Dante hadn’t seen anything to stir up his suspicions. “Do you have to sneak up on people like that? What are you, a ninja?”

“I’m not the only one sneaking around. Unless you’re not hiding something under that hideously huge sweatshirt.”

“What, this old thing?” She glanced down at her bulky, faded CalArts hoodie. Damn. She looked like she’d gained twenty pounds overnight. Or was pregnant and starting to show. Still, denial was the path of least resistance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“I can see that.” She shifted position, trying to shield the squiggling mass under her shirt from Dante’s view. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got nothing to hide. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to shower.”

“Not so fast.” He held up a hand, but it was a knock at the front door that stopped her.

“Sabbatini,” an angry, heavily accented male voice called out. “Open the door. I want my pig.”

Dante narrowed his eyes at her. “Still sticking with your story?”

“Fine,” she huffed, lowering the zipper on her sweatshirt and giving Houdini some much-needed breathing room. “I have his pig, but I’m not giving him back. I’m telling you, there’s something rotten in Denmark. Animals don’t run away for no reason.”

“I know you’re in there,” the man called again, louder this time. “You and yourputtana. I can hear you talking. And I know you have my pig.”

Something the man said seemed to flip a switch in Dante. His mouth flattened into a thin, harsh line, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Go upstairs,” he hissed. “And stay there until I tell you it’s safe to come down.”

“But—”

“You want to keep the pig, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then do as I say.”

Her insides fluttered a little at his commanding tone. Would he be that way in bed, all gruff and domineering? She’d never really understood the wholeFifty Shadesthing, but she was starting to get why some women found it sexy. As long as the commands were coming from the right guy. Preferably someone tall, dark, and dangerous, with bedroom eyes and a hypnotic accent that made her panties damp.

“Go,” he repeated, jolting her out of dirty daydream number two. Well, number two that morning. She’d been having dirty daydreams—and naughty nighttime fantasies—since she walked into the villa and saw everything—and she meant everything—he had to offer. “Now.”

She adjusted her grip on Houdini and started for the stairs.