Page 28 of Tempting the President
And then the elevator dings.
We spring apart like teenagers caught by parents, my hands scrambling to button my blouse while he straightens his sweater with hands that aren’t quite steady.
The doors open onto the lobby, where George is restocking the pastry case and a few customers are reading in the comfortable chairs. Normal, everyday life that feels surreal after the intensity of what just happened between the ground floor and the executive level.
I step out of the elevator on legs that feel like jelly, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled need. Patrizio has just proven he can make me forget everything except the way he makes me feel.
Patrizio follows me out, but something’s changed in his manner. Gone is the playboy billionaire, replaced by someone watchful and alert. His eyes sweep the cafe methodically, lingering on each exit and each unfamiliar face before returning to mine.
“This can’t happen again,” I mutter under my breath, turning back to face him.
“Can’t it?” His dark eyes burn with promise, but there’s something new there—a shadow of concern that wasn’t present before. “You’re fighting something inevitable, Jayne.”
I shake my head, desperately. “I’m serious. This can’t—”
Patrizio’s attention snaps to something over my shoulder, his expression hardening as he catches sight of someone near the entrance. When he looks back at me, all traces of flirtation have vanished.
“Wait.” He catches my wrist as I turn to leave. “I need you to come back upstairs with me.”
“What? No, I—”
“Jayne.” His voice drops to almost a whisper, urgent and commanding at once. “Will you wait for me upstairs? It’s not safe for you to leave right now.”
The request is so unexpected, so at odds with our usual banter, that I can only stare at him in confusion. “Not safe? What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t elaborate, just holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my protest die in my throat. The playboy billionaire is gone, replaced by someone grimmer, more dangerous...and someone who seems genuinely concerned about my safety.
“Please, darling. Trust me on this.”
I should refuse. Should laugh it off as another of his tactics to get me alone.
But the stark seriousness in his eyes makes the word “Okay” slip from my lips before I can think better of it.
The tension eases from his powerful build, and he even drops a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”
The tender gesture leaves me dazed and speechless, and the ride back up to the penthouse is silent, Patrizio’s body angled to shield me, his focus elsewhere. When we arrive, his friends lookup with surprise that quickly shifts to understanding when they see my bewildered expression.
“I need ten minutes,” Patrizio tells them, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourselves comfortable in my office.”
They nod and withdraw without question, leaving us alone in the massive living room.
“I’ll be right back,” Patrizio says, his thumb brushing my cheek in a gesture that’s more reassuring than romantic. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
And then he’s gone, following his friends down the hallway, leaving me standing alone in the center of his world.
I sink onto the nearest sofa, my mind racing. What just happened? One minute we were engaged in an illicit elevator encounter, the next he’s talking about danger and safety like we’ve suddenly stepped into...
Wait.
I stare out at the Manhattan skyline through his floor-to-ceiling windows, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.
Has my life turned into an Eina L. Haze novel all of a sudden, just minus the big bikes?
Rule #5: Never snoop in a billionaire’s penthouse. It’s not an Eina L. Haze novel.
I PACE PATRIZIO’S PENTHOUSE, my sneakers squeaking on the marble floor like I’m auditioning for a role asWorld’s Most Anxious Professor.
My heart’s still doing cartwheels from that elevator kiss. His lips on mine, his hands everywhere, my brain screaming,Jayne, you’re doomed!
