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“Bronte.” Luca stood, his innate good manners something she instantly recognised. Fiero did the same, a moment later.
“Ciao,” Fiero greeted her with a smile.
She nodded curtly and moved towards Luca’s desk. “You needed a file?”
Luca didn’t sit down, and she felt his eyes on her as she moved the mouse and brought his computer back to life.
“Gianfelice’s trust information,” Luca said quietly.
She couldn’t look at him. She pretended fascination with the screen, navigating her way through the complex system of servers and files – all designed to keep the most private Montebello information secure.
“It won’t take me long,” she murmured, double clicking, trying not to think about the fact his fingers had been on this mouse earlier, that his body had been in the chair. It was a lost cause. She couldn’t concentrate.
Fiero said something and Luca responded. She heard his chair scraping against the carpet; it wasn’t loud but all her senses were on high alert.
Focus, she warned herself. You should be done by now.
She closed her eyes and inhaled, then returned her gaze to the screen with renewed intent.
What the hell was Fiero going on about? Luca tried to keep up but it was a lost cause when four fifths of his brain – and body – were screaming at him to close the goddamned distance between him and Bronte and kiss her, hold her.
“That depends on the taxation treaties,” he heard himself say, hoping he was in the ballpark of correct.
Bronte’s eyes swept closed, her lashes like dark, glistening feathers against her creamy, pale cheeks. A flash of memory sliced through him – the way she’d closed her eyes when she’d come, overpowered by pleasure, unable to breathe, to speak, just existing for the pleasure he could give her.
His hands tightened around his pen, squeezing it hard. Her fingers moved the mouse.
“Luca?”
Fiero’s voice was sharp.
Anger burst through Luca as he drew his attention back to his younger brother.
“Che?”
Fiero switched to Italian. “What the hell are you staring at her like that? You’re going to make her think she’s doing something wrong.”
Luca dug his fingers into his thigh, beneath the table. “I wasn’t staring. I was thinking,” he replied in their native language.
“Well, think and look this way,” Fiero instructed, his tone doing nothing for Luca’s anger.
She’d never been so relieved as when she located the document. Encrypted and behind a firewall, it was little wonder the junior assistant hadn’t been able to find it.
The brothers exchanged rapid fire Italian, the sound of Luca’s words in that musical language reminding her of the way he’d spoken to her in Italian as they’d made love, the words – unknown and somehow magical – curling around her like vapour. She cleared her throat, wishing the memories away.
“Would you like these printed or airdropped?”
“Printed,” Fiero responded, and she was glad, because it meant she could look solely at him, ignoring Luca completely. “Better to only have one print file. Would you bring them back when they’re done?”
“Of course,” she dipped her head in agreement, hiding her chagrin at not being able to pawn the job off on someone else. “Two minutes.”
She hit print and moved quickly from the office, her legs unsteady as she entered the print room.
Her document was first in the queue – as was anything that came from a Montebello director’s office. She grabbed the stack of papers off the printer as soon as they were done, carrying them back to Luca’s office. She didn’t knock this time; there was no need.
Once again she paid attention only to Fiero. He held his hand out for the documents and she crossed to him. There was no way to avoid going close to Luca – it would have been incredibly strange to walk the long way around a boardroom table when Fiero was only a few metres away from her.
It did, though, bring her right beside Luca. She stood there, her body vibrating her senses on high alert, as she placed the papers down.
