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You can do this.
She’d faced down a runway full of professional models, a crowd of the crème de la crème of European society, and an ex-best friend. She’d gotten back up after she’d fallen, both figuratively and literally.
She squared her shoulders and raised her eyes to meet his.
His gaze hardened. She took a step back as uncertainty whispered through her. He took her arm and she gasped as his fingers circled her wrist, firm and warm, like they had been last night when he’d so deftly removed her heels. Gone were her teenage fantasies of a chaste kiss on the lips. Instead, her innocent dreams had been replaced by the deep, dark desire to feel his hard, muscular body against hers.
“Anna,” he repeated, and she jolted, her cheeks heating.
“Yes?”
“We need to talk.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ANNA’SEYESWIDENED. Judging by how he’d tried to rush off, she’d probably been expecting some form of rejection. Not that Antonio could blame her. When she’d spun around on the Steps, he’d been captivated. He hadn’t been able to discern which shone brighter, the sunlight that backlit her body or the smile on her face. It had sparked a cascade of memories, of how much Anna had enjoyed anything and everything with a joy he’d experienced just by being around her and seeing the world through her eyes.
He knew as soon as he’d seen her in the plaza this morning that he should have said hello and continued on. Dealt with the other matter by email or a phone call. Something where they weren’t in close physical proximity.
But, his conscience had argued, that was the coward’s way out. This needed to be dealt with in person. So he’d placed himself in his own private hell as he’d escorted her, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm making heat simmer in his blood. The initial touch had burned like hot silk gliding over his skin. He’d managed to quell his subsequent lust by recalling the article Alejandro had gleefully texted him at two in the morning.
He’d wondered when he’d seen her outside the hotel if she’d seen it, had been waiting for him to talk or even seek out the comfort of an old friend. He never would have thought he’d be playing her knight in shining armor once more, but here they were, twice in less than twenty-four hours, at the mercy of the gossip-hungry media.
Unease rippled through him. Would they dig up what had happened? What he’d spent the past ten years trying to atone for? The one night he’d slipped, tried to indulge in a bit of illicit fun, for which his best friend had nearly paid the ultimate price. It had confirmed that taking personal risks wasn’t something he could afford to do. Especially when he had the guilt of William’s brush with death and the humiliation of both his brothers having to come to his recue constantly lurking in the background of everything he did.
He’d put everyone at arm’s length since that night. William. His brothers. Anna. He’d always been the “good son” growing up, but after the accident, he’d sought out, and achieved, perfection. The perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect CEO. His mother’s sadness over her lack of a relationship with her oldest son had been assuaged by her youngest’s achievements. His own aspirations of translating his enjoyment of travel had been transformed into a career when his father had handed him control of Cabrera Properties and the opening of the French Riviera hotel because of his stellar academics and internship with the family’s hotels in London, his successes mollifying the effects of Alejandro’s antics on their sire. He was generous to those who demonstrated loyalty and definitive in cutting those who weren’t out of his life and his business. And now his holdings, especially his three hotels, were thriving because of his leadership, with a fourth hotel in the works. A unique property that, when successful, would be another notch in his professional portfolio.
He enjoyed women, too. Not as much of a monk as Adrian, but not as much of a libertine as Alejandro. Conversation, companionship, and good sex coupled with discretion made for the best relationships. If any one of those factors were missing, he ended it, swiftly and usually generously.
A well-ordered life. Predictable, more luxurious than he deserved, yet controlled. One that had been upset with the media’s suddenly obsessive attention on the older Cabrera brothers both getting engaged so quickly. The mania surrounding his family had reached new heights as reporters had turned their eye on him, wondering who would catch “the last Cabrera bachelor.” It had reached a fever pitch in the weeks following Adrian and Everleigh’s wedding in New York. Reporters camped out on the sidewalk across from his hotels, trying to get a photo of whomever he might be escorting home after a date. The last time someone had been bold enough to approach him directly, he’d brushed them off with a bland, “Who I’m seeing is none of your concern.” That reporter had run with a story that Antoniowasdating someone, leading to a new feeding frenzy of discovering who had captured the youngest Cabrera’s heart.
This article, no doubt one of many in the pipeline after Anna’s landing in his lap, was only going to make it worse. Not only were the papers gleefully declaring that they had uncovered his secret girlfriend, but he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since last night. Usually, nightmares plagued his evenings. Waking up drenched in sweat to the echoes of glass breaking and metal screeching was not unusual.
But last night... No, last night when he’d woken, it had been to blood pounding through his veins and vivid images of Anna splayed across his bed. That was why, when she’d spun around, eyes full of dreams and her thousand-watt smile aimed right at him, he’d been furious with himself. He’d told himself he’d escorted her so they could talk about the article. But it had been selfish motivation that had made him offer to walk her, not a desire to help. He’d wanted more time in her company, to bask in the happiness she created and savor time with the beautiful, confident young woman she’d grown into.
A flash cut him off before he could speak. He turned in time to see a wiry young man with sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low streak across the plaza, a camera clutched in his hand.
“Maldito.”
The oath escaped as the wind caught the photographer’s hat and lifted it off his head. The man slowed, glanced back... And quickened his pace into a sprint when he realized he was in the crosshairs of Antonio’s furious gaze.
Antonio crossed the plaza in several quick strides, his legs eating up the distance. He plucked the ball cap off the cobblestones and made a mental note of the logo emblazoned on the front before throwing it in a nearby trashcan.
“We need to get out of sight,” he said as he crossed back to Anna. He reached out, grabbed her hand and dragged her along the stairs.
“Antonio, what—”
“Now, Anna.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she fell silent and allowed him to pull her down the Steps, across the stones and into a narrow alley. Greenery-filled terra-cotta pots lined the street as vines twisted their way up walls. Aside from the waiter sleepily draping white cloths over tables outside a café, the neighborhood was empty.
“Where are we?”
“The Via Margutta. An artistic quarter.”
“This is fromRoman Holiday!”
He tempered his fury as Anna pulled away and walked a few steps down the alley. She obviously hadn’t seen the article, didn’t understand the implications of a photographer following them and snapping their photo this early in the morning. Let her have a few more moments of bliss before he yanked the rug out from under her.
