When She Fell for the Billionaire

by Suzette de Borja

  Chapter 10

  By the time they surfaced from their passion-induced catnap, the yacht had dropped anchor near their destination. Sabrina looked delightfully mussed. She remained quiet though, stealing thoughtful glances at him while she opened her small carryall and brought out her hotel eco bag, stuffing a bottle of sunscreen and some odd and ends he didn’t know what to make of inside. She didn’t change into a bikini, grazie a Dio, or they wouldn’t have made it out of the suite. The image made him hard again, and he had to stop himself from slamming her against the wall and forgetting about the side trip he had promised.

  He would grant her an hour of sea glass hunting max, and then he would whisk her back to the yacht for a quick lunch.

  And then after that, he’d give her the grand tour.

  The Jacuzzi, the pool, the sauna, the salon with the new couch–oh, the places where they could have a go at it.

  Luca felt the clock ticking. By tomorrow morning he should have exorcised her out of his system. He should have had his fill of her, indulged in his gluttony to the point he’d be sick of her. Sick of how sweet her lips tasted, how hot and firm her nipples were as he rolled them in his tongue, how she smelled of the sea between her legs, and how tight and silky she hugged his now-straining erection.

  He flinched when he felt her hand touching his. Actual physical contact was the last thing he needed now. He cursed under his breath and willed his rapidly fraying control back. The look of hurt on her face as she misinterpreted his response as rejection gutted him. Jerk that he was, he didn’t correct it. He had to keep his distance. He wasn’t going to give Sabrina Connelly his heart, not when it would be joining the many others littered at her feet.

  From the yacht, it was just a five-minute drive to shore. Luca drove the speedboat himself to keep his hands on the steering wheel and his mind occupied.

  “It’s beautiful!” she cried above the roar of the engine, turning sparkling eyes on him, the wind whipping about her face as they approached the cove of blinding white sand and towering limestone cliffs. “The water is so clear I can see all the way down!”

  A few meters from the beach, he stopped the engine and clambered out. He held out his hand. She hesitated then took it. They trudged to the shore, the warm water slapping at their legs.

  The island was straight out of a postcard. The slab of giant rock formations was a crescent that hugged the beach. Here and there were olive trees tufting the peaks like the hair on a baby chick. Against a backdrop of clear blue skies, it looked like paradise.

  A paradise that had only two people on it.

  The beach appeared deserted. Sabrina frowned. Sea glass came from glassware that people had thrown into the sea as trash. The waves tumbled them and the sand smoothed their sharp edges and frosted their surfaces. Transforming a piece of unwanted refuse into a collectible item took decades. Good sea glass hunting ground was usually populated. Not uninhabited. Unless it had been before, she thought hopefully.

  “It’s named Isola Vetra.’” He shrugged out of his shirt and jammed it inside her eco bag. She had just been running her hands all over his firm, tanned pectorals in the yacht, but the sight had her clutching the strap of her bag tighter. She had to keep her hands to herself. Remember how he refused to touch you once you were out of bed? If you’re not sexing, then there’s no touching. “Glass Island,” he translated.

  “Because of the sea glass?”

  He was leading them to one end of the island, the nearest to the point where they had disembarked.

  “No. It was called Isola Vetra long before any sea glass was found here. When you find one, I’ll explain to you the origin of the name.”

  She scrunched her nose at him, but his sunglasses only showed her reflection. “No one lives here?”

  “Are you trying to trick me into revealing more than you need to know at this point?”

  “I hate mysteries. I hate it when people tell me ‘I’ve got something to tell you’ and then they leave you hanging because they can’t talk because someone might overhear or they’re rushing about. It ruins my day, thinking about what they were planning to tell me. ”

  “How did you survive Christmas?”

  Her nose scrunched deeper. “Christmas?”

  “Presents under the tree? Not opening them until Christmas day?”

  “We never had a tree.”

  He stopped short and faced her squarely. “You never had a tree?”

  She wished she could take it back. “No.”

  He pushed his shades up and now she was gazing into his eyes, which were really like the blue of the waters that beckoned you to dive into them. She couldn’t bear it if there was pity in them, so she rushed on. “It wasn’t practical. The apartment was tiny. There was no place to put it.”

  “Where did you put the presents?”

  “I didn’t have any. I meant any that had to be wrapped. My grandmother and mother always gave me money.” She was blabbering to stop him from jumping to the wrong conclusion. “My grandmother gave me money so I could buy what I wanted.”

  She didn’t tell him that often the money wasn’t enough to buy the latest toy she wanted, so she got something cheaper so her grandmother wouldn’t suspect.

  “Your mother died when you were young?”

  “Why would you think that?” Her tone was sharper than she had intended.

  “You said your grandmother raised you on her own.”

  He remembered what she had said yesterday. “She did raise me on her own. My mother,” she said, taking a deep breath, “she had to be with her family.”

  He remained silent and cursed the need she felt to fill it.

  “I have three half-siblings, so she had to stay with them. And her husband.” She ducked her head, pretending to inspect the sand so he would get the hint.

  He didn’t. “Why didn’t you live with her?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “And your father?”

  “I never knew him.”

  Blessedly, he remained quiet after that. Sabrina fished out her hat from her bag, plunked it on her head, and started combing the sand.

  “I’m going swimming,” he declared, looking a bit distracted.

  She just nodded, grateful he wasn’t hovering nearby. Sea glass hunting was best done alone. Usually she would consult a chart for the tide schedule since it was ideal to do one’s hunting during low tide but since she had no pre-knowledge of the area, she would just have to follow an end-to-end pattern to comb the shoreline. She started off for the edge of the shoreline, which was delineated by the bottom of a limestone formation, her back bent as she scanned the sand for treasure. The activity filled her with anticipation yet it made her also feel calm, a sort of moving meditation.

  The rhythmic sound of the crashing of the waves, the ebb and flow of sea water on her feet, the wind ruffling her clothes and hair–it had been balm to an introverted little girl growing up with an absent mother. She was lucky they lived near a beach. When she had found her first piece of sea glass–a green one–she had been hooked for life, adding pieces to her collection and storing it in a big jar. She had spent countless hours on the beach. The sea glass had saved her from utter loneliness.

  She didn’t know how long she had been looking, but her back began to ache. Straightening up, she saw Luca lounging on top of a boulder farther back from the shoreline. She walked up to him, her finds wrapped in a huge bandana.

  His hair was damp and sleek, plastered to his skull, throwing his elegant bone structure in relief. He rose slowly as she approached, his board shorts slung dangerously low on his hips, bits of sand clinging to his elegant bare feet.

  “Productive?”

  In answer, Sabrina opened the bandana and showed him the contents. There were about six pieces of quality sea glass, most of them in green and blue, but one was different. She picked it up between her thumb and forefinger. It was a spherical frosted white glass the size of a marble. Splashes of red and orange like mel
ted wax were swirled on one side.

  “I’ve never seen one like this,” she murmured.

  “But you’ve heard of them most likely.”

  She shot him a questioning look.

  “It’s Murano glass.”

  “I’ve heard of Murano glass.” The world-famous glass was made in Venice on the island of the same name. “How did it get here?”

  It never failed to amaze her how something people considered trash was made beautiful by time and nature. One of the exciting things about sea glass was trying to guess its origins. Most were from discarded bottles, some from broken dinnerware, others from boat lanterns. Since the island didn’t look to have any inhabitants, Sabrina was curious about its origins.

  “Long ago the factories for glassmaking were located in Venice. The republic of Venice was afraid of fire and decided to have all the glassmakers relocated to the island of Murano. They were made virtual prisoners. They couldn’t leave the island because the republic was afraid they’d reveal trade secrets to outsiders. Some managed to escape, and legend has it that they settled here on Isola Vetra. When the quality of their product didn’t meet their standards, they threw it out to the sea.”

  “You happen to know a lot of the legends around these parts.” She sat on the boulder he had been sitting on awhile ago. It felt good after all the bending.

  “As I’ve told you, I spent a lot of summers here.” He pointed to the boulder. “That’s my rock you’re sitting on, by the way.”

  Her eyebrow lifted at his playfully possessive tone. “Does it have your name on it?”

  “Right under your ass.”

  Sabrina shot him a look that he better not be playing her. True enough, his initials L.A. were carved on the stone.

  “I told you,” he said smugly. “My brothers and the Konstantinos boys used to fight over ownership of the strategic rocks. We used it as look-out for pirate ships.”

  Sabrina fought the envy she felt at his childhood. He had siblings and friends to have silly fights with. “It must have been wonderful.”

  “It was. We have remained close to the Konstantinos boys.” He speared her with an enigmatic look.

  Sabrina sensed that he was waiting for her to say something. She longed to know more about the Greek brothers but she held her tongue instead.

  “No one lives here?”

  “There were a few families who did when we spent summers here. They were the descendants of the glassmakers, but eventually the younger generation wanted a different life and moved to the mainland.”

  “It’s so peaceful here.”

  “You sound like you wouldn’t mind living here.”

  She stowed her finds inside her eco bag, making sure it was safe. “It would be heaven, for a few weeks at least, and then I’d go crazy without Wi-Fi. I sell my accessories online so it’s a necessity.”

  “I’ve seen them.” Her jaw went slack in surprise at this revelation. “They’re very beautiful and innovative.”

  “Th-thank you.”

  “We are always on the lookout for aspiring and talented designers. You might want to consider applying as one of our in-house accessory designers.”

  “I’m flattered.” And really, she was. The House of Argenti was known for feminine yet cutting edge designs. She knew Luca wouldn’t have offered it if he didn’t see something in her. After all, he already had the milk, so there was no need to buy the cow. It would be a big coup if she managed to land a job in the company, but Sabrina didn’t want anyone interfering with her vision, her designs. She wanted to be the one who made the calls.

  “But?”

  “I don’t want to answer to someone until I can afford not to. My business might be small, but I’m the boss.” Maybe she should have phrased that with a bit more diplomacy. No sense in burning bridges when she hadn’t even managed to build one yet.

  He stared at her for a few seconds. And a few more until Sabrina felt like jamming his sunglasses down on the bridge of his nose. Then his beautiful eyes crinkled at the corners and his lips pulled up in a grudging smile. For the first time, Sabrina saw a glimmer of respect in them.

  “Come,” he said, extending a hand. “It’s time we got back to the yacht. They have prepared lunch for us. Unless you want to have a swim first? You’re the boss,” he teased.

  “I’m good,” she countered, suppressing her grin.

  She hadn’t swum with her contacts on, and Sabrina had heard horror stories of people getting an eye infection after a swim, so she didn’t want to risk it. She took his hand and decided going back with him to the yacht involved a bigger risk. The more time she spent with Luca, the more she liked him. She could not forget the other compelling reason she was with him–meeting the Konstantinos.

  Chapter 11

  Lunch consisted of a selection of gourmet panini sandwiches, cold cuts, pasta salad, and a selection of wines, all laid out al fresco on the exterior of the second deck of the yacht.

  There was no staff to serve them. Luca didn’t want anyone hovering, witnessing the indecent haste by which they finished their meal.

  “I’ll give you the grand tour,” he said, pulling her to her feet. She smelled different, not the shampoo smell he had associated with her. “You smell like coconuts,” he murmured into the crook of her neck.

  She tilted her head back, giving him a wider angle to nuzzle her skin. “It’s the sunscreen.”

  “Everything smells good on you.”

  He felt her smile by the way the skin on her neck pulled and tightened. He wanted to taste her, run his tongue on that patch of skin…fuck!

  The bitterness grated on his tongue and he made an incoherent sound of disgust.

  “You licked the sunscreen off my neck.” The witch had the audacity to laugh at his predicament.

  “You’re laughing now,” he rumbled, “but you won’t be later when I’m done with you.” He tugged on her hand.

  “Where are you taking me?” she gasped as he flung them inside a stateroom, dragging her across the width of the carpeted floor.

  “In you go,” he said, opening the door of the bath at the end of the room. He made short work of her clothes, allowing her no chance to protest, and pushed her inside the glass enclosure. He turned on the handheld showerhead and squeezed a dollop of shower gel on his hand. “I’m going to wash off every last drop of that blasted sunscreen until every spot,” he touched a spot, “and every crevice,” he delved inside a crevice as she sputtered, “I don’t put sunscreen there,” “is squeaky clean.”

  She squeaked, then moaned then whimpered under his ministrations. Luca dropped the showerhead, chucked off his shirt, and flattened her against the tiled wall. Her arms snaked around his neck, her breasts slippery globes against his chest.

  He reached down between them to undo the button of his board shorts. It fell with a wet plop on the floor. He kicked them out of the way, bent, and grasped her thighs, the sight of her bare and wet making preliminaries impossible.

  Bare. Uncovered. Unprotected.

  Cazzo! He was about to take her without gloving up. He suddenly felt chilled by the way she made him forget about being responsible. He wrapped her legs tight against his waist, banged open the glass cubicle, and set her roughly on the marble countertop, knocking soap dispensers and lotion bottles in his search for a condom. Grazie a Dio! He grabbed all the available foil packets, hoisted her up against him, and fell to the huge bed, dumping the packets uncaringly on the surface.

  His fingers were shaking until finally he was ready. With one smooth thrust, he was inside her. This time it was fast and furious. As if they had to make up for hours that were lost on the beach. The bed thumped, and dimly he realized Chiara would have his head if he broke it days before the fundraising party.

  Her chest had that lovely flush that signaled she was near. With a throaty cry she came, and within seconds Luca spilled himself.

  He had promised her a grand tour, and he was one who kept his promises. After sufficient recovery
time, he pulled her out of bed, wrapped her in a bathrobe, and commenced with the tour. He did her in the gym and on that new couch in the salon. She reciprocated in the media room, speading herself enticingly on the conference desk They did it on the uppermost deck while she clutched the railing and he took her from behind.

  He was glad he had the foresight to disable all the security cameras when he boarded the yacht or else they would have given the crew quite a show.

  * * *

  “I don’t think I can stand anymore.” They had entered the library and Sabrina staggered to the nearest couch. Luca was striding to an alcove farther in the room, his back to her, so he didn’t see her wince when she sat down. Thank God. He’d asked repeatedly if she was okay. Glutton for him that she was, she refused to stop until Luca had called for a break.

  He turned to her, cradling a drink in his hand. “Would you care for some?” He was standing by the bar. “We have some non-alcoholic drinks, too.”

  Her stomach rumbled.“Maybe some water.”

  “I asked the chef to serve dinner in thirty minutes.” He bent and rummaged under the bar, then rose with a bottle of sparkling water in hand. “I’m starving.

  “Me too,” a little voice chirped.

  Both she and Luca whipped their heads around to find the speaker. Sabrina spotted her by the foot of a wall-mounted floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. A chubby-cheeked, curly-haired girl of about three sat there.

  “Principessa Alessa. Buon giorno!”

  “Buon giorno.” The toddler replied, getting on all fours to steady herself as she made to rise, her bottom sticking out in the air for a few seconds before she was fully upright. She looked around her and spied a book on the floor, one she was probably perusing before they interrupted her. She squatted, grabbed a corner, rose, and dragged the heavy book as she made her way to Luca, who had made himself comfortable beside her on the couch. He had deposited a bottle of water and a glass on the coffee table.