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I raise my brows. “You look younger than thirty.”
“Then I must be doing something right.”
“You must be.” I smile and think of other things to ask him. “You mentioned Russia and your mother being from Italy. Do your parents still live here? Do you have siblings?”
Although the brightness remains in his expression, something I know all too well dims in his eyes. It’s grief.Pain.Something worse than mere sadness.
“My parents are both dead and…so is my little sister.” His eyes cloud over like the sky before a storm.
“Oh, my God. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay. And thanks. I have an aunt and uncle here from my father’s side; my other relatives live in Italy and Russia.”
“That’s good you have relatives all over.”
“Yeah, I see my uncle and aunt a lot, and I’m either in Russia or Italy a few times a year.”
I think of something more cheerful to talk about. The death of those close to you is never an easy subject, no matter how many other family and friends you have left in your life.
“Do you have businesses there, too?”
“Yeah, mostly property. Nothing interests me more than my nightclubs here, though.”
I smile at that, relieved that the conversation is back on track to something safer. “Nightclubs? You own more than this one?”
“Yes. I own two others with my friend, but one of them is a little more than a nightclub.” His smile brightens with a hint of mischief that makes me curious.
“Oh, what is it?”
“It’s a sex club.”
I was in the middle of drinking when he said that, and I almost choke. I have to inhale quickly and cough to shift the blockage in my throat.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
He smiles at me and rubs my back when I cough again. His hands on me feels nice. “That’s because you don’t know me. Yet.”
The wine has already given my mind a warm buzz, but so is he.
“It’s an actual sex club?” Heat flushes down my body, getting hotter the longer he stares.
“Yes. It’s anactualsex club.” He leans back and spreads his arms over the top of the sofa. “It’s called Risqué.”
I can’t get over how confident he is or how he’s looking at me as if owning a sex club is the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it is.For him. And probably for free-spirited people like Harper who have been in those types of places.
“How… did you come up with that idea?”
A wicked glimmer of fascination lights up his eyes. “I think that maybe I’m the kind of fucked-up freak who doesn’t care what people think of him. I believe in living life to the fullest, especially when it comes to sex.”
His voice dips on that last part, and I can’t imagine a woman alive—nun or otherwise—who wouldn’t think of sex just for hearing him say the word in his smooth, deep voice and that forbidden accent.
My mouth is watering just listening to him, and I can already feel my nipples hardening against the lace fabric of my bra.
I suspect he’s aware of the effect he’s having on me because his eyes darken, and humor fills his expression.
He leans in, filling me with the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body. My brain dissolves, and I might as well be swimming around in the palm of his hands because this man has me hooked.
The dark smile returns. “Scared you away yet, Printsessa?”
