Page 5
He isn’t doing anything. That’s the problem.
He simply stands there with one hand resting loosely in his pocket, looking at me as though he has all the time in the world. And something instinctive inside me becomes sharply aware of him. My body reacts to the air of danger he exudes.
Oh God, I’m in trouble…
There is an edge beneath his calm. Controlled and watchful in a way that makes me think of a predator. And somehow, that is exactly what makes him even more attractive. I hate that. I especially hate the little flutter low in my stomach when his gaze settles fully on me.
Get it together, you’re here for Oscar. Not the absurdly attractive Italian man standing in front of me.
“Mr. M.?” I ask.
His mouth curves slightly. “That’s what they call me.”
His voice sends my insides into mush. I ignore it.
“I need to talk to you about L’Oscuro.”
His eyes sharpen with interest. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
The man gestures toward the hallway. “Come in.”
I step inside, refusing to let the awareness of his size or presence affect the way I carry myself. I’ve stood my ground with men far more intimidating than an attractive horse owner. Although, admittedly, none of those men had eyes quite like his. Or made me want to press my thighs together to find relief. Oh fuck…
He waits until the housekeeper disappears before looking back at me. “Now,” he says, “who are you?”
I fold my arms. “Katya Petrov.”
Recognition flickers across his face. “Ah.”
That single syllable makes me narrow my eyes.
“Aldo’s new trainer,” he points out.
I raise my brows. “So, you’ve heard of me.”
“I’ve heard quite a bit. Enough to know Aldo thinks you’re very good at what you do.”
That wasn’t what I expected. Before I can ask what he heard, his attention settles on me again. And I realize I’m standing in front of the man whose decision could determine whether Oscar stays at Il Prato or leaves it.
So, I straighten my shoulders and meet his dark gaze without backing down. “Then Aldo has good judgment.”
A quiet laugh escapes him. It changes his face just enough to remind me that beneath all that intimidating masculinity, there is a man capable of amusement. “I agree.”
“Good. Then you should probably listen to me,” I say.
His eyes narrow just slightly, as though I’ve finally given him something worth paying attention to.
“I intend to.”
And for some reason, the way he says it sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.
Chapter Two
Dario
The moment my eyes lock with Katya Petrov’s golden-brown ones, I know the morning has taken an inconvenient turn.
