by Lucy Monroe
“Is that when you turned the day-to-day operations for the bank over to a team of senior level managers?”
He was no longer surprised by the depth of her research. “Sì. I still guide financial policies and major investments for the bank, but I’m able to keep my involvement down to a once-a-week conference call and the occasional meeting.”
“That’s kind of incredible.”
“It was necessary in order to do what I really wanted.”
“Start Tomasi Enterprises?”
“Yes.”
The bank provided for his family, keeping them in the lifestyle they were so certain they deserved. But Enzu had wanted more. He’d wanted something that was his alone. So, he’d taken a loan out against his stock in the bank and started Tomasi Enterprises.
“And now you are applying the same brilliant brain that made you a thirty-five-year-old billionaire to finding a loving and attentive mom for Franca and Angilu?”
“That is the hope.”
“I think maybe I want you to kiss me again, Vincenzo Tomasi.”
“My business acumen turns you on?” She wouldn’t be the first woman that had happened to.
His power was more an aphrodisiac than his money for many women.
“Your commitment to putting the same energy into making the children’s life a good one that you do your business melts my heart.”
“I’m not looking for your heart. You need to understand that.”
Audrey didn’t look surprised, or particularly worried. “You may just get it anyway.”
He shook his head, but bit back the compulsion to argue. She’d offered a kiss and no one could accuse Enzu Tomasi of failing to take advantage of a good thing.
“I think it might be easier if you slid this way.”
She unbuckled her seat belt and moved to the center seat, redoing the seat belt before turning to face him, innocent desire darkening her beautiful brown eyes. “Well?”
He was smiling when his lips met hers.
CHAPTER SIX
IT TOOK NO time at all for Audrey to simply melt under the caress of Vincenzo’s lips.
His expert lovemaking made her own lack of experience a moot point. And it was lovemaking. Regardless of what she’d intended when she asked him for this, it was no simple kiss.
His mouth conquered hers, drawing forth a response that came from the very core of her. Not just her body, though she yearned for a physical intimacy she’d never known, but to the place inside where she’d always believed her soul resided.
How could she feel so hot, so needy and so profoundly moved at the same time?
It had never been like this with Thad. They’d been in love, or so she’d believed, but nothing they had done together had blown her away like Vincenzo’s kiss.
His hands cradled her head, his lips molded to hers, his tongue only barely brushed the place where they met, and yet her entire body thrummed with a buzz of indescribable pleasure.
The kiss in his office had been amazing, like waking up after years of going through life asleep to her own sensuality. But this? It was beyond that. It was colors coming back into her world she hadn’t even realized had faded away.
It was drenching sensation. His high-end cologne smelled familiar, but it was changed by his own scent enough she could not name the brand. The texture of his lips reminded her that mouths were made for more than talking.
A tantalizing sensation she could not get enough of—the slick glide of his tongue against the seam of her lips, releasing the hint of Vincenzo’s unique flavor—taunted her to open her mouth and get more.
And she had thought it could not get better than their last kiss, that maybe she’d even built that kiss up in her memory.
This kiss, so much more powerful than the first, decimated any thoughts in that direction.
Perhaps pleasure built on itself? She didn’t remember that happening with Thad, but then it had been six years, and she’d done her best to forget the past so she could live in the present.
Audrey moved restlessly, straining against her seat belt, needing to be closer.
Vincenzo seemed to understand, sliding his arm out from under the shoulder harness to lean over her. His big, warm body pressed hers back into the luxury car’s seat.
Her nipples peaked, drawing impossibly tight and pressing against the silky fabric of her bra with pleasure so acute it was almost painful.
Vincenzo’s hand slipped down Audrey’s body and under the hem of her sweater to caress her stomach. Long masculine fingers spread possessively, causing every centimeter of skin he touched to grow scorchingly hot from each spark that lit her nerve endings.
Her own hands went to his broad shoulders and then slid down and around his back, reveling in the feel of the well-honed muscles bunching under her touch.
She moaned, long and low—no hope of keeping the unmistakably sexual sound inside. A small voice of reason tried to tell Audrey she should be embarrassed by that. She wasn’t promiscuous, that voice insisted.
A much stronger voice, the one he’d woken with that first kiss in her office, insisted this felt much too good to be worried about sounding like a woman who couldn’t wait for that test-drive Vincenzo had demanded.
His hand drifted up her stomach, over her ribs, stopping only when his thumb rested in the shallow valley between her breasts and his forefinger barely pressed the underside of one curve. That hand just stayed there, tempting, taunting with what it might do next.
Her own fingers clutched the fine fabric of his dress shirt, fisting it in a way that was bound to leave wrinkles.
With a deep groan that rolled through her like a touch, Vincenzo pulled his lips from Audrey.
He tipped his head back, though his upper torso remained pressed against hers, that tormenting hand still resting intimately against her skin. “We have to stop.”
She shook her head. No. She did not want to stop. “More kissing.” More touching.
The sound that came out of him was deeply pained, his gaze flaring with blue fire…the hottest part of the flame.
Unable to stop herself even if she’d wanted to, and she so did not, Audrey strained forward. She could barely reach to match her mouth to his again. Their lips barely touched.
And that was way more arousing than she’d ever thought such barely there intimacy could be.
His head dipped toward hers, and her entire body sighed with relief at the contact.
Only the kiss did not deepen. He did not move his lips against hers. He was warring with himself; the conflict was so intense she could feel it.
As the seconds dragged on the tension emanating from him grew until he was like a perfect sculpture in marble, his breathing the only movement Audrey could discern.
Then, so slowly she felt the withdrawal of his lips in increments, Vincenzo pulled his head back again. “No, biddùzza. We cannot continue.”
“Why?” How could he want to put the brakes on such amazing pleasure? Unless he was used to that depth of feeling—or, worse…it hadn’t been as good for him. “Did I do it wrong?”
His laugh was harsh, his square Sicilian jaw rigid. “If you had done it any more right, I would have embarrassed myself.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?” That didn’t make any sense.
His sardonic expression said she should know exactly what he meant. When she gave no indication that she’d gotten it, because…well…she hadn’t, his gaze flicked down their bodies.
Hers followed and even she couldn’t miss the impressive bulge that had to be pressing painfully against his zipper.
Only then did the implication of his words sink in. “Oh.”
“Sì—oh.”
“But—”
“Your first time will not be in the back of a car with only the illusion of privacy.”
“My first time? You thought…you want…?”
“Sì, I want, biddùzza. Very much.”
“Biddùzza?”
“Sicilian.”
>
“For?” she prompted.
“There is no precise translation.”
“Really?” She wasn’t buying it. She’d look it up on the net if he didn’t tell her.
He huffed out a breath that could have been irritated or amused. “It means beautiful, but is a more intimate endearment than bèdda.”
“Not so hard to translate after all.”
He shrugged, giving off an uncomfortable vibe she didn’t associate with such a self-possessed man.
What was it about explaining it to her bothered him? Italian men used bella all the time. It didn’t mean anything. She was sure it was the same for Sicilian men with bèdda. Only he hadn’t called her bèdda, had he? He’d used a more personal endearment.
She blinked up at him, her mind working. “Do you call other women biddùzza?”
“No.” Firm. Sure. Even a little scandalized at the idea.
So it was special for her. And unintentional. Which meant the American-born Sicilian tycoon was not as in control as he appeared.
Warmth suffused her being, delight increasing the sexual need thrumming through her. She let her body shift down so his fingers shifted up, covering the underside of her breast. Her nipple ached with the need to be touched as well, but she just stopped herself from slouching into the seat so that could happen.
Vincenzo’s breaths were suddenly coming in more rapid gusts between them. “Stop, Audrey.”
“I’m not doing anything.” Very much. “You’re the one with your hand… Well, you know.”
He couldn’t expect her to ignore that, or the way his big, toned body pressed into hers.
Vincenzo flashed a shark-like grin that was anything but comforting.
“This hand?” he asked, brushing the thumb of his left hand—the one safely cradling her head—down along her neck.
“You know it’s not.” Though it seemed to be more of a threat to her equilibrium than she’d suspected.
That simple caress revealed the direct line between that tender spot on her neck and the place between her legs clamoring most for his attention.
More than the sensual onslaught, there was something entirely possessive about the way he held her head just where he wanted. Something that said no matter what he might be feeling, regardless of small cracks in his near-impenetrable armor, Vincenzo Tomasi was in control.
Of himself. Of her.
A moment of clarity sent frissons of uncertainty through her. Could she spend the better part of two decades, perhaps even longer, as this man’s lawfully wedded wife?
The overwhelming desire to do just that would have taken her legs out from under her if she were standing, it was so powerful.
“You must mean this one?”
He was still playing the sensual game while she’d been having her life-altering internal revelation.
He let one finger slide up to brush over her nipple, bringing Audrey instantly back into their hot, sensual bubble.
This man was lethal. “Y-yes, that one.”
He chuckled darkly and moved the overstimulating appendage down her stomach. Slowly. So very slowly. Neither of them made the tiniest sound as he withdrew his hand from under her sweater.
He carefully tugged the hem into place before sitting up. “You are a temptation.”
“But you stopped.”
“It is for the best.”
“According to your plan,” she teased.
“It is my habit to follow my plans.”
“You never lose patience and just do something because you want to?”
“No.”
No room for misinterpretation there. “One thing I’ve never heard anyone call you is impulsive.”
“My cautious nature has served me well.”
“You and your company, not to mention Tomasi Commercial Bank.”
Vincenzo had pushed the bank to withdraw from high-risk, high-yield bonds before the stockmarket tanked.
His bank and company had suffered minimal damage while the rest of the financial world teetered on the edge of bankruptcy.
“I used to be impulsive.” When there had been room in her life for spontaneity.
His expression was tinged with disbelief. “Used to be?”
“You think I’m impetuous?”
“Sì.” One word. No clarification. Absolute certainty.
“I’m not.” She couldn’t afford to be anymore.
“You do not think coming to my office with no introduction or any idea of how I would react to your initiative to apply for an extremely unorthodox position was impulsive?”
She frowned, unable to actually deny the charge. She had had no idea how Vincenzo would react to her. Audrey could have lost her job that day, or at the very least gotten a severe reprimand.
“Desperate times…”
“And was it desperate times that made you ask me to kiss you in my office and again just now?”
“Not desperation, no.”
“Did you plan to kiss me then or today?”
“No.” Today she’d meant to get to know two small children to whom she might well become a mother.
“You see? Impulsive.”
“But you kissed me both times.”
“While I may not share your impetuous nature, I am a man who knows how to take advantage of a fortuitous circumstance when it arises.” He sounded entirely too smug.
“You think an opportunity to kiss is lucky? I would have thought you had plenty of those you turned down all the time.”
“In that you would be right, but you have left out the key element to the equation.”
“What is that?”
“The opportunity was to kiss you, Audrey.”
Wow. She didn’t know how to respond to that. He’d implied that she was something special, but she wasn’t. Just one of several candidates he was considering for a position she was coming to want more and more.
“You’re sort of lethally charming, you know?”
“You would be one of only a few who think so.”
She just shook her head at such a ridiculous claim.
“I am a workaholic who has spent most of my adult life building a financial empire, not a charming playboy.”
Like his brother Pinu. And his father, whose affairs were legendary and legion despite his being married to the same woman for almost four decades.
“If a kiss affects me like this, I’m afraid your test-drive is going to kill me,” she jokingly admitted.
“I fully intend for you to experience a surfeit of la petite mort, I promise you.”
The promise of multiple orgasms sent shivers of reaction through her. This man pushed every single one of Audrey’s buttons.
Just as she’d warned him, her heart was engaging at light speed, her four-year crush fast becoming something else. No matter that he wasn’t interested in her emotions. She had no more choice about that than how quickly her body responded to his kiss.
She wasn’t sure she believed in love at first sight, but Audrey would never forget her first glimpse of this powerful man. He’d been to the bank for a meeting. Her heart had ended up in her throat and hadn’t dislodged itself until an hour later.
She’d applied for a transfer to Tomasi Enterprises a week later and told herself it was for the bump in pay and responsibilities.
Audrey had spent four years watching him from afar, reading every article that was published in the printed and electronic press about the brilliant business tycoon. She’d saved the link to a rare interview he’d given which had been uploaded to the net in her Favorites.
He’d fascinated her. This man who could take apart a company with ruthless precision for maximum financial gain, but who had personally driven his own corporate policies that benefitted not only his employees but their families. His charitable contributions were evidence that, no matter how cold and emotionless Vincenzo Angilu Tomasi might appear, his heart was as human as anyone else’s.
She only wished it was accessible to her. But that was
one miracle she had no hope of.
Audrey didn’t know what she would do if Vincenzo chose one of the other candidates to complete his little family. However, there was an undeniable part of her that hoped fervently he did just that.
The fear he would choose her was almost as strong as the fear he wouldn’t, and Audrey had the inescapable feeling her heart was going to end up broken either way.
“I should move back to the other seat.”
He adjusted his seat belt across his torso. “Don’t. It gives me satisfaction to challenge my control.”
If she were more confident in her own sensuality it might make her happy to add to that challenge. To spend the rest of the ride teasing him in subtle ways, until maybe that control even broke. Perhaps someday, when she was not a sexual novice.
As it stood, she did her best to bring her own clamoring desires back to manageable levels.
“How did you accomplish the Gatling coup last year?” she asked, pretty sure that the discussion of acquisitions and mergers would be staid enough to help in that endeavor.
What followed was actually both interesting and informative, and not just about that particular financial windfall Vincenzo had engineered. His answer revealed both the power magnate’s passion for his work, and a great deal about his personal business philosophy as well.
“So, you try to keep a company active if you can?”
“It depends on the numbers.”
“What do you mean?”
“If I can realize a minimum of a ten percent return on investment within a year, or twenty-five percent within three.”
“So if you only project a nine-point-seven ROI, you dismantle and sell?”
“Sì.”
“What if selling for parts wouldn’t net you the minimum ten percent either?”
“Then I would not have bought it.”
“So, no exceptions?”
“No.”
“But you can’t be sure about those numbers. I wasn’t a business major, but even I know that there has to be a margin for error with any income projection.” She worked for a financial institution after all.
She couldn’t help picking up a thing or two.
