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His threats weren’t working.
Alessio couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so thoroughly stumped.
He would’ve been inclined to believe Gigi Parker was off her head with drink or perhaps even drugs, had he not looked into her eyes. Stunning eyes that sparked with equal parts defiance and intelligence. Eyes that dared him to do his worst while holding a touch of nervous...anticipation?
Hand her over to the authorities. Let them deal with it.
He knew several high-positioned individuals in law enforcement across two dozen countries, including this one. He could have her in handcuffs within the next fifteen minutes.
So why was he hesitating?
And why the hell was he unable to take his eyes...or hands...off her?
She’d barely registered on his radar in the two weeks he’d spent in Europe during the summer when he’d been fixing a few problems for several members of royal families who’d repeatedly got themselves ensnared in scandals.
She’d been on the fringes of a particularly hard-partying bunch of socialites and trustfundistas who’d consistently ended up in the tabloids. Alessio had only taken note of her because her passable PR skills had come in handy when his team had needed it.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d agreed to her request for an interview. Perhaps he’d had one too many whiskies? Or he’d been frustrated that his efforts to locate the Cresta Montaldi had repeatedly failed?
Whatever the case, he’d seemingly created a monster by obliging her.
But had his monster beenthisbeguiling?
What did it matter? Acting like a caveman wasn’t his preferred behaviour. But he couldn’t allow her to continue to twirl her hair and bat her eyelashes at him as if he were some simple hormonal teenager eager for attention from a beautiful woman. His phone contacts were filled with women ready to share his bed at the crook of his finger.
So why are you so affectedby her?
Because she was in possession of the very thing his father had died for.
The object his mother had despaired would never be regained and returned to their family in time to restore their reputation before she died. She’d faded away without that hope ever being realised. It stuck in his craw that this slip of a woman could be so cavalier with something so profoundly fundamental to who he was. Towhathe was—the firstborn of a once-respected Sicilian family going back generations. A family he was determined to make whole again.
Sose, he planned on delivering a few lessons before he was done with her.
And if that meant suffering through his brain latching onto how smooth her skin was, how her curves sank into his body, how lush her ass seemed from the corner of his eye?Bene, suffer he would.
‘Put me down right now,’ she shouted.
Jaw gritting against the insufferable heat surging through his veins and pooling in his groin, he stepped out of the club, strode to where the valet had fastidiously parked his vehicle, and lowered her unceremoniously to the ground next to his passenger door.
Alessio then watched her blink rapidly and scramble to push back her long silky hair, refusing to imagine if this was the way she looked when she was thoroughly made love to in bed. He almost welcomed the spiky glare she sent his way. The fact it only raised his temperature created a rumble in his chest he barely managed to stifle before it ripped free.
‘Where’s my coat? It’s freezing out here.’
He wanted to snap that she should’ve thought of that before defying him, but he suspected it would only instigate more stubborn rebellion.
Instead, he found himself shrugging out of his own coat, stepping close to tuck it around her shoulders before gathering the lapels closer.
For a frozen moment, he thought he caught stunned surprise in her eyes at his gesture, before the entitled pout made a return, her glare turning fiercer as he reached for the door to his sports car.
‘I’m not leaving without my—’
The words died in her throat as, per his instructions, the bouncer approached with her belongings. When she immediately went to shrug off his coat, he stepped back, a firm reluctance to have her take it off tunnelling through him.
‘Keep it. The sooner we get out of here, the safer you’ll be from my urge to throttle you.’
Again, he caught a flash of surprise at his heated words.
Se, he was mildly astounded himself. Was he a red-blooded Sicilian prone to vividly imagining how he would take down his enemies?Certo.Was he prone to blurting out those urges as if he were starring in a mindless reality TV show? Absolutely not.
