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Clara absently trails her fingers over the worn cover. "It's about a headstrong woman who refuses to bow to the expectations and whims of the men who seek to control her future. She fights for her independence and the chance to marry for love rather than money or status."
She takes another sip of scotch as I process her words. I can't deny I find myself drawn to Clara as she speaks so passionately. There is something compelling about a woman bold enough to challenge societal norms and expectations. My family deals in a brutal, masculine world...a woman like her would be endlessly fascinating.
"That sounds like quite an interesting read," I say finally, my voice low and smooth. "Perhaps you could lend it to me when you're finished with it?"
Clara looks at me skeptically for a long moment before nodding slowly, chestnut waves cascading over her shoulders with the movement. "It's your book."
"But you're reading it. So, if you wish to share it, I would be interested to read this story that has captured your imagination." I offer her a disarming smile.
"Very well. I'll leave it outside your room when I'm done." She takes a larger swallow of scotch and I track the movement of her throat as she swallows.
We lapse into thoughtful silence for a few heartbeats, the only sounds the comforting crackle of flames in the hearth and our slow, even breaths. She seems lost in the story, while I find myself studying the elegant lines of her profile, the way the firelight brings out rich auburn highlights in her hair. Unbidden, images swirl through my mind on wisps of fantasy - sweeping her willowy frame into my arms and crushing that sweet mouth beneath mine in a searing kiss. Laying her across my massive bed, my body covering hers, and worshiping every inch of soft skin until she sighs my name in ecstasy. I want to watch those emerald eyes darken with desire as I move inside her. Feel her nails rake down my back as she surrenders completely.
Gritting my teeth against the sudden onslaught of lust, I dig the heels of my palms against my eyelids until prismatic shapes burst across my vision, as though I can physically force the images from my mind through pain. Get control of yourself, man.
"Are you okay, Mr. Ricci?" Clara's concerned voice pulls me back. I drop my hands and paste a polite smile on my face, hoping she can't sense my body's traitorous reaction to her nearness.
"Yes, my apologies. Just...remembering some business I need to attend to tomorrow."
She nods, though her gaze lingers on my face as if trying to decode my thoughts. I rake a hand through my hair, grasping for a distraction.
"Please, call me Antonio. We're practically family now, after all." The intimacy of using my first name makes my heart thud heavily.
Her brows lift in surprise. "Family...right." The word seems to pain her. She shakes herself and meets my eyes again. "Very well...Antonio. I should let you get to bed. I'm sure you're exhausted."
She moves to rise, but I lift a hand to stop her. "No, please. Don't let me interrupt your reading, Clara. I'll bid you goodnight."
The sound of her name on my lips sends a pleasurable tingle down my spine. I rise smoothly from the chair, even as every cell in my body screams to stay near her orbit a little longer. Our gazes catch and hold for a heartbeat too long before I force myself to turn away.
"Goodnight, Clara. Sleep well." I don't look back as I cross the room in quick strides. If I do, I may never leave.
I make it halfway down the shadowed corridor, my polished Italian leather shoes soundless on the runner rug, before swearing viciously under my breath. Gripping the back of my neck hard enough to sting, I try in vain to exorcize the image of Clara from my thoughts. But like a siren's song, she lingers.
What is it about this girl that has gotten so far under my skin already? She's like a moth to flame, I'm irresistibly drawn no matter the consequences. For a man in my world, she is incredibly dangerous. An addiction. A weakness waiting to be exploited.
But it's more than just physical desire. When I'm near her, it's as if there are two sides warring within me. The ruthless businessman knows an attachment like this can only end badly. But the man beneath longs to shelter and protect her, coax out the fire I sense smoldering inside. She makes me want to be gentle, patient...noble. Foolish fantasies.
I repeat it now through gritted teeth like a mantra. Passion fades, power remains. Control is everything.
I just need to keep my distance from Clara, resist these magnetic urges. In time, she'll be just another pretty face among the many women who have passed through these halls.
By the time I reach my bedroom suite, I've almost convinced myself. I try to take comfort in the familiar surroundings - the massive bed with silken sheets, the antique furnishings passed down through generations, the landscape paintings on the walls stereotypical of old money.
Away from Clara's distracting presence, I can think clearly again. Rafael is right, I cannot lose focus. Not when we are so close to consolidating the family's power in the city.
Sighing, I pour myself two fingers of whiskey from the crystal decanter and swirl the caramel liquid as I move to stand at the French doors leading to my private balcony. Moonlight spills over the manicured gardens below, silvering the night. Somewhere in this sprawling estate, Clara is getting ready for bed, perhaps running a perfumed bath or slipping on a satin nightgown.
I scowl, tamping down the flickering image. Control, I remind myself harshly.
I toss back the whiskey, letting the burn clear my thoughts. There will be time to unravel the mystery of Clara Thomas, learn what secrets churn beneath that polished exterior. But not now.
For now, I need to remain focused. Power, legacy, control - these are my priorities. Let Rafael and the others handle the women. I have an empire to build.
With that resolution, I turn from the view of the gardens. Shutting Clara firmly from my mind, I begin preparing for bed and the busy day ahead.
CHAPTER5
CLARA
