Page 4 of Unrelenting
As Angelina pointed out, I could have taken time off if I’d wanted to. Suki, my second-in-command, can cook the Bistecca alla Fiorentina our reputation is built upon in her sleep.
“I appreciate a strong work ethic,” Lorenzo says, “but sometimes it’s good to put work aside and indulge in a little pleasure, is it not?”
Something about the way he says pleasure sends a shiver down my spine, and it’s not one of dread.
His deep, gravelly voice does things to my insides I don’t want to acknowledge. Lorenzo is an incredibly attractive man.
I can’t deny that I’ve fantasized about him fucking me against the wall or bent over the kitchen counter. I imagine the health inspector would have something to say about that.
The trouble with my attraction to Lorenzo is that I’ve been with someone of his ilk before and it didn’t end well.
My ex-boyfriend is currently in prison for stabbing a man during a fight outside a nightclub.
Though I bear no lasting scars from my relationship with Adriano Rossini, I was burned badly enough to know not to get close to that sort of fire again.
“Did you want something, signore?” I ask tersely, trying to take control of a situation where I feel distinctly uneasy. “The kitchen is closed, I’m afraid.”
“I didn’t come here for food, Lucia.”
Setting down his wineglass, he leans back in his seat. The appraising look he casts over my body strips me bare.
“Why are you here?” My voice is breathless. Nervous anticipation flows through me as the dark glint in his eye gives me the answer.
“You know why I’m here.” Lorenzo gets up from his seat and prowls toward me, his movements calculated, precise. “I’m here for you.”
TWO
Lorenzo
Lucia’sdelightfully expressive face hides nothing. Her shock at my declaration is apparent, but I had to let her know how things stand. I’m done waiting for her to soften toward me. It’s time to make her mine.
As I come to a stop in front of her, I detect fear, but also a trace of desire. I reach out and brush a stray hair from her face. She swallows so hard the gulp echoes through the otherwise silent room.
“What do you mean, you want me? I thought you were interested in buying the restaurant.”
“I was at first.”
She screws up her nose, an outward sign of her confusion. Clearly, my being here has scrambled her thoughts. I like that I’ve thrown her off balance.
“But you don’t want it now?” she asks.
Though I would love to add this Florentine institution to my extensive property portfolio, I accepted weeks ago that Lucia’s refusal to sell is not some tactic to persuade me to increase myoffer. She really doesn’t want to let go of the place. She inherited the restaurant from her grandmother and intends to keep it in the family. No doubt she wants to pass it down to her own children one day.
I respect her dedication to preserving her family legacy. I also admire her fierceness in defending the property from my attempts to purchase it.
She may not realize it, but she’s the only woman who’s ever spoken to me as bluntly as she has. Few men would dare to.
Something about the defiant glint in her eye when she stands her ground has piqued my interest. She’s a challenge, and not one I intend to lose.
“No, it’s not the restaurant I want. It’s you.”
Her frown deepens. “I don’t understand.”
Why is she not getting it? She cannot possibly be this obtuse. I sent her flowers and an invitation to an exclusive event at my new vineyard. Surely she doesn’t think I did that to get my hands on the restaurant? If she does, she’s seriously misinformed about my business methods which are far more brutal.
“I want to fuck you, Lucia.” I spell it out in the starkest terms to voice any further misunderstanding.
She blinks twice. “Why?”
