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But for now—
‘What the hell are you wearing?’
The snapped query did its job of ratcheting up her unease. The seductive finger-glide stuttered and died, a tremor seizing her as she sucked in a breath.
To cover it up, she rested her hip on his desk and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m wearingclothes, Alessio,’ she said, faking long-suffering patience.
His jaw gritted at her dry tone, but it didn’t stop him from conducting a searing head-to-toe scrutiny. ‘It’s minus seven degrees outside.’
‘Then I’m thankful you’re not skimping on the heating in this lovely space.’ She made a show of looking around the spectacular study, wondering whether she would get a chance to explore the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves before he tossed her out.
Gigi might abhor any literature that didn’t relate to a cocktail menu but maybe Alessio didn’t know that.
After several seconds’ silence, she dragged her gaze from what looked like a bookcase filled with first editions to find him watching her with narrowed eyes.
Had her interest in his books given her away?
Heart dropping a little before it began thumping wildly, she straightened and forced herself to walk away from the shelves. ‘Since I suspect I’m not going to win by indulging in a staring contest, shall we begin?’ she pushed.
Giada had learned early on that burying one’s problems or fears didn’t make them go away. This situation wasn’t going to get resolved until she bearded the lion in his den.
Still watching her with intense eyes, Alessio waved her to the sofas grouped in front of an exquisite fireplace. She didn’t need a second bidding to relocate herself out of his direct gaze. She chose the single, sumptuous armchair, tucking one leg beneath her and quickly arranging the boa so it covered a good portion of her bare thighs.
The tingles rushing beneath her skin suggested he was still watching her but she averted her gaze, taking slow, steady breaths to compose herself.
It all proved useless when his low, deep voice rumbled across the room.
Her gaze flew up. Their eyes met.
And it belatedly registered that he wasn’t talking to her. Alessio spoke with rapid-fire Sicilian into the mobile phone pressed to his ear.
Giada, being half Italian, understood enough of the conversation to know he wasn’t pleased about the other person’s absence, enough to glean that Alessio’s growled demand for Massimo—his brother, apparently—to return immediately was falling on deaf ears.
Her cheeks burned when he uttered an earthy curse, followed by dire threats. Which didn’t work, if the fingers he abruptly dragged through his hair were any indication.
Fascinated against her will, Giada watched the thick waves fall into sexy disarray as he spun around to face the window.
‘This is not what we agreed, Massimo,’ he gritted out in fiery censure.
Giada’s breath shortened, her eyes riveted to the wide breadth of his tensing shoulders.
God, he was breathtaking.
Icily disdainful or fierily pissed off, Alessio Montaldi was captivating.
Far too captivating.
She needed to focus so she didn’t mess things up for her sister. And yet, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She watched him pace in short strides, his patience rapidly fraying before he issued the final ultimatum for Massimo to present himself at the chalet by morning.
Ending the call, he tossed the phone onto the wide desk. Nostrils flared in temper, he abruptly shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over the chair.
Then those golden eyes snapped to where she sat. Without taking them off her, he sauntered close, the image of control again, as if those last minutes hadn’t happened.
Giada thanked heavens she’d taken the lone seat far enough away because his very presence overwhelmed her. Stopping before the wide sectional sofa, he didn’t immediately take a seat. Instead, he took his time to tug out his diamond-studded cufflinks, sliding them into his pocket before slowly folding his sleeves.
She wasn’t going to stare at his brawny forearms.
She wasn’t...she wasn’t...she—
