Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  “Sera,” he said, stepping into the inn’s small lobby. It was more of a morning room, with its chaise lounges and small side tables. Chase was inspecting the family photographs that he himself used to look over every day after school. Something coiled tightly in his gut.

  She spun around and flashed her damn smile his way. “Buona sera.”

  He pulled at his collar a bit, annoyed his careful selection of battle armor wasn’t offering the protection he’d expected. Her weapons, however, were locked and loaded at an impossible vantage point in a cream-colored sundress that flared out playfully at the bottom. “Come, Nonna is anxious to see you. But a little warning.”

  Chase’s eyes clouded in concern. “Is she all right? I don’t want to impose if she isn’t feeling well, or—”

  “No, no. She’s fine. But she’s had a hard time of it. Not only now with the inn but her whole life. I wanted to ask that you don’t make anything harder on her than it is already. It’s better if we table any conversations about the inn or her family for now. We don’t want to bring up painful memories. Si?”

  She placed her palm against her chest and stepped toward him. “Of course. I’m so glad you said something. I would be heartbroken to know I’d hurt her.”

  He tilted his head. But she was going to hurt Nonna. The day Huntington House opened.

  She put out her hand. “I already feel horribly that the hotel opening might affect the inn’s business. But I don’t have a choice.”

  And neither did he.

  With a calm he did not feel, he offered her his arm. “Come.”

  On the way to the kitchen, he gave her a small tour of the main floor. Aside from the lobby, there were two sitting rooms off to each side, a library, an office, a quirky little bathroom whose toilet handle needed to be jiggled when it was flushed, and a cozy den with a state-of-the-art theater system, as well as a handful of main floor overnight rooms. Casa di Nonna was named “Grandmother’s House” for a reason.

  Chase grabbed his arm at every turn. The heat of her hand burned through his jacket, and he couldn’t stop himself from flexing with each touch no matter how common he found the action to be. That kind of thing was for college boys. Goddamn, what was happening to him?

  In an attempt to save himself from her touch, he grabbed her hand and pulled her through to the kitchen. Her palm felt small and silky in his. She rubbed her thumb over the top of his knuckles, sending a wake-up call straight to his dick. Snapping his head around to look at her face, he found nothing but distracted joy. As they entered the kitchen, she released his hand and headed straight for his grandmother.

  “I’m so happy to see you again,” Chase said.

  Nonna gripped her face with bedazzled fingers and kissed both cheeks soundly. “Benvenuto, cara. Welcome.”

  Chase hugged her, and something turned over in his chest. Looking away, he cleared his throat. “I’m starving.”

  Nonna smiled. “Of course you are, caro. Let’s eat. You always were a…what do they say? A pit without bottom? No?”

  Chase laughed. “A bottomless pit. I can see that.” She turned toward the counter. “How can I help?”

  Nonna handed her a stack of plates with a nod toward him. “Here, you and Drago set the table. He’ll show you where everything is. Do you like pumpkin? We’re having one of Ferrara’s specialties, cappellacci.”

  She nodded. “Sounds lovely.”

  Grabbing the silver, he jerked his chin toward the dining room. “In here.”

  Chase followed him, then placed the plates around a small round table. “Are you okay? You seem tense. You don’t have to worry; I’m not going to say anything.”

  “Tense” didn’t begin to describe how he felt at the moment. If she believed his mood was due to being protective of Nonna, so be it. She wouldn’t be wrong, only misguided.

  She stepped up to him in a cloud of mango and cocoa butter, once again placing a hand on his arm with a look of concern. “Anything I can do to help?”

  It took all his concentration to remain still, relaxed, and calm while the urge to yank her to his chest and kiss her senseless in order to assuage himself of the pent-up stress pounded mercilessly against his control.

  The wanting of her mixed with wanting to get her out of town messed with his head. His hand had found its way to her waist, and his fingers flexed against her hip. Her large brown eyes turned almost black, they dilated so wide. She felt it, too. Good. He wasn’t one to suffer alone.

  As he lowered his head toward her, she licked her lips and he slowed, mesmerized by the pink tip of her tongue as it glided over the darker color of her gloss. Her breaths matched his, and he wasn’t sure if the pounding he heard was his heart or hers.

  “Drago.” Her whisper hit his ears as the dining room door swung open.

  “Here we are.” Nonna entered with a flourish, bringing in the mouthwatering aromas of pumpkin and Parmesan.

  He dropped his hand as they stepped apart, swallowing his laugh at Chase’s guilty expression. She brushed the front of her dress, then finished laying out the silver next to the plates as his grandmother placed a basket of coppia ferrarese in the center of the table.

  Clearing his throat, he stepped up to the sideboard, cursing his grandmother’s timing as he went. Slipping three wineglasses from the hanging rack, he pulled out a bottle of red Bosco Eliceo, uncorked it, then poured it into a wide-based decanter to breathe.

  Nonna clapped her hands. “Oh, Chase, you will love this wine. The history of the grapes dates back to 1528 when the daughter of Louis XII brought a vine from Burgundy as part of her dowry.” A dreamy look washed over his grandmother’s face. “It stood the test of time. No?”

  “Oh, how lovely. I have a soft spot for history.”

  Nonna glanced between the two, letting her eyes rest on Chase as she spoke. “I’m not surprised. Now, let’s eat. Try the coppia ferrarese, maybe with a little olive oil? You will love it, a treasure of Ferrara.”

  His grandmother allowed him to pull out her chair and assist with her linen. He took care to make sure she was comfortable and had what she needed, as Nonna had always done for him during the nights he woke as a child afraid everyone had left him.

  He pulled out a chair for Chase next, and couldn’t help but admire her rounded backside as she lowered herself into it. He pushed her in with a quick glance back at Nonna.

  Shit.

  She shot him a look.

  With renewed focus, he slid into his own seat. More than anything right now, he needed to pull from every sticky business situation he’d ever been in and find a way to end this dinner—quickly.

  “Now, take hands,” Nonna demanded.

  Bowing her head, she spoke softly. “Bless this food, bless our souls, and let our hearts beat with home.”

  Chase’s hand jerked slightly in his, and he peered at her from the corner of his eye. She had her head lowered, but her lips trembled slightly. He frowned, but refused to think about it.

  He served the first course along with the first of many glasses of wine.

  “How are things moving along with the opening?”

  Minchia! Of course Nonna had to ask.

  Chase tilted her head in a small side-to-side motion. “So-so. My list is extensive, and the staff is cooperative one moment, then I feel like they’re actually working against me in the next. It’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been taking your advice, though, trying to get to know the people. I love this city.”

  Nonna sent Drago a sharp gaze. “Cara, you should know—”

  Drago coughed in his hand. “Sorry, wrong pipe.” Then coughed again until his grandmother put her hands up in a small gesture of surrender.

  “I’m with you most times, but if you have any trouble with the staff, let me know,” he said.

  Chase lifted an eyebrow. “I’ve seen how afraid of you they are. Why is that? You’ve been nothing but kind to me.”

  Holding his linen over his mouth, he pretended to cough once more. “Kin
d” was not a word connected to his name often, personally or professionally.

  Nonna laughed. “Cara, he isn’t known as the Dragon for nothing.”

  Chase’s jaw dropped. “The Dragon?” A small chuckle passed her lips. “You’re kidding.”

  “In the business world, he consumes the weak and hoards his gold. At least that’s how the story goes,” Nonna explained.

  Drago raised a hand. “Come on. You weave stories, Nonna.”

  She gave him a look that said he was full of shit, and he returned a tight grin. It might be true, but he didn’t need the questions. As it was, from the way Chase looked at him, he had damage control to do when they were alone. Goddammit, that’s all he’d been doing lately. Putting out fires.

  The conversation moved on to safer topics, and they finished off a bottle of red. They asked Chase about her travels and family. He learned she was an only child. As much as his brothers annoyed him, he’d never been alone. And by the sounds of it, she’d traveled as much, if not more, than he had.

  They retired to one of the sitting rooms, along with a dessert wine and pastry.

  Chase closed her eyes upon the first bite. “Oh my God. This is divine.”

  Now that he had an idea what her face looked like in pleasure, he wanted to see how much more intense he could make it. Shifting in his seat, he said, “It’s called crostata di marmellata di albicocche, basically a fresh apricot tart. One of Nonna’s specialties.”

  “It’s amazing.” She smiled at Nonna and settled back in the sofa next to her as if she belonged there. Nonna spoke to her in a voice too soft for him to hear. Chase dropped her chin with a smile, then nudged her shoulder like they’d shared a secret.

  He looked from Chase to his grandmother, feeling at ease and at home—and that got his attention faster than a new takeover opportunity.

  No. He pushed to the edge of his seat and downed his dessert wine in one gulp. His plan to keep Chase away from his people, from his home, was crumbling faster than a neglected business.

  Chase did not belong at the inn. She belonged in America.

  And he needed to ensure her one-way ticket back.

  Chapter Ten

  The Dragon. Chase suppressed a grin. The nickname should make her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t help that it made Drago all the more intriguing to her.

  She watched him from her spot next to Nonna on the sofa. Yet another side of him revealed. This evening had already been full of surprises. Her heart tugged at the way he cared for his grandmother. She was the real treasure of Ferrara.

  His mouth pulled into an easy smile as he listened to Nonna’s story. His lips were perfect, not too thin, not too big, but wide and strong and warm. From the day she’d kissed him, his taste had lingered, turning into a craving.

  How could it not? Beyond his tall-dark-and-sexy, he’d swept her off her feet by encouraging the people of Ferrara to embrace her, assisting her with translations, and ensuring the cooperation of her staff. Appreciation pushed her to be near him. That and the way he looked at Nonna; it was nothing short of reverence. And nothing impressed Chase more than a man who respected the older generations.

  Why did seeing Drago with his grandmother make him so damn sexy? She must be losing her mind. A quick call to Addi would put things in perspective. Her best friend was a great sounding board. She’d sort through it with her, or at the very least would encourage Chase wholeheartedly to go ahead and have sex with the man to get over the intrigue.

  The reality rarely equaled the fantasy.

  Chase couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips.

  “It’s good to see you happy, cara,” Nonna said, her voice getting a low, sleepy sound to it.

  Mortified, Chase shook her head. “I’m sorry. I was daydreaming.”

  Drago’s deep voice entered her consciousness like a caress. “I hope it was a good one.”

  She met his gaze. Heat flushed through her cheeks to her hairline, and she waved a hand in front of her face. “Whew. I think the wine is getting to me.”

  “The wine, you say?” he teased. Pushing up from the chair, he stood and offered a hand. “Come. Nonna needs to rest.” He tilted his head toward the couch. “I think she’s off to dreamland herself.”

  Chase glanced over to find Nonna resting in the corner of the sofa, her head tipped to the side. “Oh, she’s the sweetest woman.” Something warmed her at the inn. Something warmed her when she was with Drago and Nonna. From the moment she’d set foot into the ambience of the lobby with its dark woods and family photographs, the feeling of being held had never left her. She loved the open crispness of Huntington House, but the pull of home was strong in Casa di Nonna.

  On an inhale, she shook her head. Wow. The wine really was getting to her.

  Accepting Drago’s hand, she glanced back at Nonna and whispered, “We can’t leave her here.”

  “She’ll be fine. She’ll nap for a few minutes, then wake up with a second wind. Besides, this is her home. She’s been known to rest anywhere. When I was a kid, we’d tiptoe around her midday nap only to be rewarded with cake before dinner.”

  Chase grinned. “And why do I love that so much?”

  He shared a knowing smile. “Because it’s Nonna.”

  They walked along the quiet, foggy streets of Ferrara. Though her instincts had told her initially not to trust Drago, he’d proved himself to be irreplaceable. A deep warmth and, admittedly, a little too much wine filled her heart to overflowing. She threw caution to the wind, determined to make the night extend past lovely and into perfection.

  As they walked up to the hotel lobby doors, she turned to him. “Come up with me.”

  His fingers flexed in hers. “Up?”

  “To my room.”

  If anything would ever convince her his nickname was true, it would be the look that flashed into his eyes: intense, possessive, and a little scary. She shivered as his gaze roamed over her face. He trailed his fingers up her arm and across the bare skin above her breasts. They lingered along the pulse at her neck, then he lowered his lips there. “I thought you’d never ask.” His hot breath sent shivers down her spine. “I’m starving.”

  In short time, Chase slammed her suite door closed, then grabbed the lapels of Drago’s shirt. On a heady giggle, she pressed her lips and her body against his. He was hot and hard and felt oh so right.

  Without warning, she found herself against the door. He shoved his hands through her hair, grabbing her head in a firm grip that left her legs shaking beneath her. He angled his head, his lips hot and his tongue insistent.

  She kissed him back, matching his intensity. She yanked up the hem of her dress, then wrapped her arms around his neck and circled his hips with her legs. He pressed into her harder, and she moaned into his mouth.

  “Che figa.” His voice was deep and hoarse, sending her stomach into a slow, languorous roll.

  “Kiss me harder.”

  He yanked her back from the door, and walking with her wrapped around him, found his way to her bed. “My pleasure.”

  “And mine. Thank God.” She grabbed at his tie, then followed with his buttons. All the while, he found the little hidden side zipper of her dress and pulled it down her body until the garment ended up on the floor at the foot of the bed. “I have a secret,” she whispered.

  He shoved his pants and briefs down past his knees, then kicked them off. “Tell me.”

  She had to untie her tongue first. She’d seen beautiful men, but Drago had the finest architecture she’d ever come across. His shoulders were massive, and his wide chest met with thickly muscled abs. Her eyes trailed lower, and she found it hard to swallow.

  “Hard” being the operative word here. Sweet Jesus.

  Licking her lips, she watched his body tighten further and whispered, “I’ve had plans for you since the day I saw you lounging against the streetlamp in front of the hotel.”

  Her confession released something wild in him. His dark eyes narrowed and his finger
s flexed, then he was covering her from head to toe. His weight was delicious, and his heat only increased her craving. “You were checking out my shoes.”

  He took her mouth again, sweeping his tongue inside, sucking on her lower lip. Holding his weight partially on one arm, he ran his other large hand the length of her torso, then up and over her stomach until he gently cupped her breast. She had enough to fill his hand, and nothing had ever felt so damn good.

  Her fingers found their way through his hair, then down his cheeks to his sharp jaw. His stubble tickled the pads of her fingertips and set off her senses further. Everything burned. Her lungs, her skin, her need. She spread her legs, encouraging him to settle between them. She wanted to feel him against her. There.

  He pressed kisses against her mouth, then over her jaw, and said in a harsh whisper, “You’ve had plans? My plans would scare you straight back to America.”

  That got her attention. She loved a challenge. “Wanna bet, love?”

  Shoving up with all of her strength, she pushed him over, following with her body. He landed on his back with her straddling his hips. His length was hot and hard between her legs, and she slid up, then back down. Reaching behind her, she lightly grazed her nails over his sensitive balls.

  He opened his mouth, but she leaned forward and kissed him before he could speak. She ran her palms over his chest, stopping to circle the tight Tic-Tac nubs of his nipples. He growled low in his throat, and she did it again.

  “You’re playing with fire, Chase.”

  The response of his body empowered her, and she lowered her mouth for a taste. Exploring every inch of taut, tanned skin, she memorized him with her lips. He throbbed between her legs, making her want to go fast. But then he gripped her ass, digging his fingers deep, and the pleasure-pain of it all drove her crazy, making her want to linger.

  She found her way back to his mouth, tasting the deep berry of the evening’s wine on his tongue.

  He reared up against her with a growl. “Chase.”

  Rubbing back and forth, she grinned. She rather enjoyed seeing the Dragon squirm beneath her. A fire lit deep within her to torture him further. She pressed down hard against him.