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“We can relax once we get there.” He kisses me again. “I promise.”
“Fine.” I step back from him and begin to gather my things. Did I pack right for Monte Carlo? What even happens in Monte Carlo? I definitely don’t have any Princess Grace wear in my suitcase.
“Do you wear that dress to work often?” he asks as his eyes skim my body.
I look down at myself. I’m wearing a tight black woolen turtleneck dress. It has long sleeves and a lower neckline. “Yeah, why?”
His brows crease. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it shows your every curve.”
“And?”
“And I want to be the only one seeing those.” He steps forward and takes me into his arms again. “Your body is for my eyes only.”
“Is that so?” I smile up at him.
“That’s so.”
I love that my body is for his eyes only… this is going very well indeed. “You know, you can’t tell me what to do,” I tease.
He gives me a slow, sexy smile. “Would you like to place a bet on that?” He pumps me with his hips.
I giggle. “I would, actually. I’m in a betting mood. Isn’t that what they do in Monte Carlo?” I bat my lashes.
He chuckles and turns me away from him, and he playfully slaps my behind. “Get your things. We need to go.”
“Stop rushing me. I want to stay here and be naked and playful.”
“Well, I want to get there so you can be naked and under me.”
Our eyes lock, and he gives me the best come-fuck-me look of all time.
“Okay then. That’s definitely more of an incentive.” I begin to rush to get my things together.
“Like I thought.”
I pass him my travel suitcase, and then I grab my makeup purse and tuck it in my handbag. I do a quick last check. “Okay, let’s go.”
He smiles, then leans in and takes my face into his hands to kiss me slowly. “It’s good to see you, Olivia Reynolds,” he whispers.
I run my fingers through his dark stubble and stare into his big brown eyes. He’s so hard and masculine, yet soft to my touch. Just like his personality. He can act hard with me all he wants, but I know the real him. I want to blurt out that I missed him… stop it.
Don’t be a pushover, play it cool, I remind myself.
Calm, calm… keep fucking calm. I pull out of his arms.
“Let’s go, Mr. Ferrara.”
________
We walk down the dock in Monte Carlo, and my heart is in my throat. Gorgeous boats are lined up, one after the other. I don’t know much about boats, but I do know this is some serious boat porn.
This afternoon has been quite daunting, I met Rico’s four closest staff: Lorenzo, Maso, Marley, and George. They seemed nice, although Lorenzo stands out as my favorite. His smile was warm and welcoming.
We caught our flight here in a private jet. We drank champagne, talked, and I have to admit that I’m having a hard time not openly staring at Enrico Ferrara. He seems to be getting more and more handsome by the hour… or perhaps that’s just my lady parts swooning at his masculine ways.
