Page 2 of Forbidden Noble
Reality would slap her soon, but she put her glass down and said, “Look, you let me tag along. But then on the train from Barcelona, you avoiding talking to me and spent the entire time on your computer.”
His body froze like stone. “Both our phones were lost. I was ensuring we had what we needed when we arrived in Gibraltar.”
Maybe it wasn’t fair to assume he’d have the same way of looking at things, like casual conversation, but he was richer than anyone she’d ever met and soon wouldn’t be. She reached across the table and ignored the spark when their pinkies brushed as she said, “I’m determined to find out why you are letting your estate go.”
He ended the slight touch when he sat back in his chair. “I’m not explaining that.”
She took another sip but noticed he hadn’t touched his wine at all. “I’m good at piecing together clues," she said. "So Astorre Manfredi, Duke of Modena, how old were you when you decided to toss billions, and an estate, away?”
His eyes glowed. “New deal. We trade information, Clara.”
“Trade?” Her heart sped up. She’d flown to a different country with a hot-as the-devil European bad boy who had a reputation for hard drinking and who knew what else. Well, she had ideas, but Astorre wasn’t the kind to consider her as anything more than a one-nighter.
Which she wasn’t interested in being.
So they were here at the edge of the old world, as friends. He’d wanted company when he turned poor like her on his thirtieth birthday tomorrow.
He finally sipped his wine and stared at her like he could see through her clothes a la superman if he wanted. “For every personal question I answer, you have to answer one of mine.”
The game he was asking to play could be dangerous. She nodded, knowing she could stop at any time if things devolved. “Okay. I have nothing to hide. What do you want to know about me in exchange?”
His gaze narrowed to assess her like she’d issued him a challenge. He swallowed a drink of wine. “How old were you when you had your first kiss?”
Never.She'd never been kissed. She was twenty-eight and not the kind of girl a man noticed, as her hands were too rough and not soft like a lady's. “Your questions should be on the same level as mine, or it's not a fair game.”
He leaned in closer and said, “Both are personal.”
Clara was a lone wolf in the world. She knew it. She wanted her first kiss to happen only if it led to her true love. Maybe it was stupid, but she held onto her dreams like they were promises to herself to make her life better. She pressed her lips together. “Yours can lead to sex questions. Mine doesn’t.”
His lips curved into a dimpled smile. Seriously, Astorre was heavenly perfection. “Mine can lead to more interesting questions, I suppose.”
A kiss of his would leave her heartbroken, as there was no way the girl who wanted forever and the bad boy who likely had scores of women in his bed ever ended up together. She wasn’t a fool. Clara folded her hands in front of her chest. “Mine is non-sexual background for the book.”
He rested one finger against his face as he studied her. He didn’t move or blink but then he said, “I don’t think you’ve ever been kissedwelland that’s why you are avoiding the question. It's also why you're here with me on the claim of writing a book about me.”
Her face burned but she refused to acknowledge that he was right. He could never know so she said, “Iamwriting a book, and your life is more interesting than mine.”
He handed her a date to eat while he said, “The fiction piece you showed me in Paris was pretty good.”
No one had ever asked to read her stuff and she’d never been brave enough to send anything out--he'd been her first and only reader. To her surprise, the fruit was much better than the last cookie she’d eaten. “I never could figure out an ending for that one so it’s going nowhere.”
He popped the date in his mouth and ate it. “The shop girl doesn’t fall for the billionaire?”
She let out a laugh and decided she’d try another fig. Absolutely better than cookies. Wow. Clara wasn’t all about an organic diet and the only fruit she'd tried was an apple or a banana in a school lunch as a girl. Unlike Astorre, and his exotic tastes--they had nothing in common. She relaxed her body. “She comes to her senses, which is more realistic.”
He refilled their glasses. “Not the ending readers, or even you, actually want though.”
This from the man who’d go from billions to zero in thirty-two hours. “I’ve never considered happily-ever-after to be an actual goal. So back to answeringmyquestion.”
He handed her the glass and said, “Yet, it’s evident to me that’s all you want. Anyhow, to keep peace, I’ll revise my second question to you.”
Good. No more talking about kissing. She let out a deep breath. “Thank you. What’s the new question?”
He drank his red wine. “In exchange for explaining how old I was when I wanted to toss my fortune, how old were you when your parents died?”
Her skin had that prickly feeling. Again. This was hard. She never knew how to answer when someone asked her about it. Did Astorre mean her natural parents, or her adoptive parents? Her lips were parched and she sipped her wine. She swallowed and tried to find the words. “I was… very well. Why don't you go first?”
He nodded and spoke like he was reciting from a paper and not sharing his life. “I was fifteen when we moved back to Avce, my parents and I. Then the day I turned sixteen I went to… a friend’s home to celebrate. My parents never showed up…”
