Faith’s heart thumped in slow motion. “Next week? Is it ready so soon?”
Excitement danced in his eyes while her stomach twisted in fear. “It is.”
And Renzo would be flying around a track at speeds approaching, perhaps exceeding, two hundred miles per hour. With a leg that could cramp at any moment and render him incapable of controlling the motorcycle.
Faith didn’t want to think about the consequences of that scenario. Instead, she threw herself into her work once they reached Renzo’s home office. They worked for a couple of hours, and then Renzo pushed back from his desk and told her to go get some rest.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Your eyes keep closing. You can hardly keep them open.”
It was true, but he’d shown no signs of being tired and so she’d kept on working. “It’s called blinking,” she said stubbornly.
Renzo laughed. “Indeed.” He got to his feet and stretched. “Nevertheless, go to your room and blink there. I am going to do the same. Come, I will show you where you are staying.”
Faith followed him up the wide marble staircase that sat imposingly at the center of the house. She could hardly keep from gawking as they’d walked through the villa. It was lovely, with marble floors, Oriental rugs, old oil paintings and tapestries on the walls, and vases of flowers filling every surface. There were antiques mixed with modern furnishings, giving it all an eclectic and lush feeling.
It was as sumptuous as the Stein’s penthouse, and yet it was more livable. The kind of place where you could actually put your feet on a table and not be too worried that you were mistaking some sort of modern art piece for a footstool.
Renzo led her down a long hallway with tall doors that opened to bedrooms filled with light. The last one was hers, he told her, and she stepped into the room, certain he’d made a mistake. This was the kind of room you gave to guests, not employees. There was a huge tester bed covered in white linen, antique wardrobes for her clothing, a delicate writing desk by a window, and silk chairs and a couch where she could lounge in the evenings. There was even a television, and three sets of tall windows, which opened onto a balcony with a table and chairs.
Perfect for morning coffee, she thought.
“Do you approve?” he asked as she stood with her back to him and gaped. It was like something out of a travel fairy tale—the kind of thing you dreamed of when you read about Tuscany and imagined yourself living there.
Faith turned to him. “It’s lovely, Renzo. Thank you.”
“I am glad you are pleased.” He came over and put his hands on her shoulders, skimmed them down her arms. “I am across the hall, cara, should you require anything.”
Faith bit the inside of her lip. “I—I’m sure I’ll be fine. But thank you.”
His smile was wickedly sensual. “Nevertheless,” he said as he bent and kissed her on both cheeks while a tidal wave of flame rolled through her, “I am there.”
The party, it turned out, was being held in a villa nearby. Faith slept for a couple of hours, and then dressed in a figure-skimming red cocktail dress with a halter top that kept her modest and a pair of silver strappy heels that made her feel like a princess. She’d asked Renzo why she needed to go along earlier when they were working, and he’d looked at her with that gorgeous broody look he got and told her she was going because he’d realized after the Stein’s party that she was good repellant.
“Repellant?” she’d asked, certain her puzzled frown must have amused him.
“Female repellant,” he’d deadpanned before going on to explain that he did not need the distractions of women in his life right now.
“And what am I?” Faith murmured as she studied herself in the mirror. Especially when she considered the way he’d told her that he was across the hall if she needed anything.
Anything, he’d stressed. Faith shivered as she remembered the feel of his lips on her cheeks, the imprint of his fingers on her arms.
Renzo D’Angeli was a very confusing man, she decided. And very sexy, a little voice added.
Faith ran the brush through her hair one last time. She didn’t look half-bad, though she still wasn’t in the same league as the Katie Palmers of the world. Her hair was smooth and golden, hanging down her back in a lustrous fall, and her eyes really stood out with the addition of eye shadow, liner and mascara.
It was her in the mirror, and not her. Her as she’d never been, she amended. She hadn’t been allowed to wear makeup when she was growing up, and she’d never been allowed to do anything with her hair other than leave it long. As the daughter of a preacher, she’d been required to be as plain and circumspect as possible.
Until the day she hadn’t been.
Faith turned away from the mirror and grabbed her wrap and tiny purse. Then she hurried downstairs to meet Renzo. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, the butler came forward to greet her in impeccable English.
“Signorina,” he began, “Signore D’Angeli had business to attend to in town. He asked me to let you know that he would meet you at the party.”
“Grazie,” Faith replied, her heart sinking.
She wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going alone, but she went outside to get into the waiting car. The ride didn’t last long, but since it was dark she didn’t see anything along the way, until they arrived at a grand villa with lights spilling out of the windows and people mingling on the grounds and inside the house.
Faith exited the car and stood with her purse clutched to her body like a shield while the chauffeur drove away. Her pulse was tripping along recklessly and she took deep breaths, telling herself not to freak out. There was no sign of a photographer anyhow, was there? Perhaps arriving alone was a good thing, since Renzo was the main attraction for paparazzi. If she just stayed in the background, she would be fine.
“Buona notte,” a voice said before a man strolled toward her from the garden.
“H-hello,” she said as he stepped into the light. If Renzo was the most handsome man on the planet, then this man was surely second. He was tall, broad and lean—and she knew who he was. She’d seen his picture in the same motorcycle magazines in which she’d seen Renzo’s.
“Ah, English,” he said. “You are American, no?”
Faith swallowed. “Yes.”
The man held out his hand. “Niccolo Gavretti. But you can call me Nico.”
“I know who you are,” Faith said as she accepted his handshake. “I’m Faith Black.”
Nico’s handsome face split in a grin. “Ah, Faith, I have heard of you. Renzo’s prized secretary, yes?” His dark gaze slid down her body. “I see why he keeps you hidden away in America. Bella.”
Faith extracted her hand when he tried to hold it for longer than necessary. “No one keeps me hidden. I’ve only worked for Mr. D’Angeli for six months.”
Nico didn’t stop smiling. “Better and better,” he said. “And yet I am glad you are here now.”
“I don’t see why you should be,” she said. He was incredibly handsome, but he didn’t make her heart throb the way Renzo did. He was, like Renzo, a player of the worst sort. Women flowed in and out of his bed like water from a faucet.
He laughed. “You are a beautiful woman. Why should I not be? Unless, of course, you are spoken for already?”
Faith felt herself reddening, though she knew he was only flattering her because it was as second nature to him as breathing. “If you will excuse me, I need to find my boss.”
“I will take you to him,” Nico said, offering his arm. “You will never find him in this crush without help.”
Faith hesitated. It was true the place was overrun with elegantly dressed people. And she spoke no Italian. She’d found a man who spoke English, and who knew Renzo. But she seemed to remember reading that Nico and Renzo were rivals on the track. And she knew for a fact that Renzo was determined to bring out his latest production bike before Gavretti Manufacturing could unveil theirs.
“Afraid of what Renzo wi
ll say?” Nico asked.
Faith lifted her chin. “No, of course not.”
“Then come with me, bella, and we will find him.”
Renzo arrived at the party later than he’d thought he would. But he’d gotten a call from one of his investors and he’d needed to go into Florence for a meeting. He’d fully intended to be back by the time Faith left, but he was nearly an hour late. She would, no doubt, be furious with him. He’d sent her into this gathering alone when he should have gone back for her and to hell with the time.
Now, he stood at the edge of the glittering crowd congregating in the garden and scanned it for a sighting of her. He knew she was here because Ennio had still been out front with the car when he’d arrived. Since Renzo had driven his own car, he’d sent Ennio home and then come to look for Faith. He’d tried calling her mobile phone, but she was not answering.
The hostess smiled when she saw him. “Renzo, darling, we’re so glad you’ve returned to Italia,” Filomena Mazzaro said. “How is the new motorbike coming along?”
Renzo didn’t feel like talking to anyone until he found Faith, but he chatted for a moment before asking if Filomena had seen her. Filomena’s brows drew together. “I don’t remember greeting her, no. But I am sure she is here, darling. We have so many people tonight.”
Renzo excused himself after a few more moments and continued the search. He should have asked Faith what she was planning to wear tonight, but how well would that have worked? She was a woman, and no doubt had changed her dress at least three times before deciding.
He drew up short when he spotted Niccolo Gavretti. He’d known Gavretti would be here, but he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with the man tonight.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have to. Gavretti was standing with a blonde in a red dress, and he seemed engrossed in her. He had his hand on her shoulder as he smiled down at her. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her, but she took a step to the side the moment his head dipped. Renzo laughed to himself. He couldn’t see the blonde’s face because the instant she’d stepped aside, a light had shone straight into his eyes, silhouetting her form.
She was, of course, voluptuous. He could tell that much. She had full, lush breasts and a nipped-in waist that flared out again in generous hips. Her legs were long and lovely, her feet encased in delicate shoes with glittery silver straps. Everything a woman ought to be, he decided. Gavretti had excellent taste, as he well knew from the days when they used to prowl the bars of Florence together, drinking and having a good time.
The blonde might be gorgeous, but Renzo wasn’t interested in her. He had to find Faith. He started to walk past the two of them, but the woman cried out as he did so.
The voice was painfully familiar. Renzo stiffened as if he’d been struck by lightning. Slowly, he turned. The voluptuous blonde stared back at him, her green eyes wide, her lips red and luscious and kissable.
Kissable. Maldedizone.
Faith sashayed over to him while Gavretti smirked. The bastard.
“I’ve been looking for you, Faith,” Renzo said calmly. He was proud of himself for how calm he sounded. How reasonable.
She was beautiful. Utterly gorgeous, and he was a fool for allowing her to come alone.
“I’ve been looking for you, too,” she said. “Nico was helping me.”
Renzo’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a smile. He’d seen how Gavretti was helping her. The hard bite of acid flooded his throat as he thought of Gavretti’s hand on her—of his attempt to kiss her. Kiss his Faith. It wasn’t the first time Gavretti had tried to take something from Renzo that did not belong to him. “Was he? How wonderfully chivalrous of him.”
Renzo slipped an arm around her lush form, anchored her to him. She gasped, the smallest intake of breath, and his body responded, tightening, hardening. He wanted her beneath him, making those noises while he took her to heaven and back. While he got her out of his system so he could concentrate again.
Because he’d been thinking of little else but getting her naked since this afternoon, when she’d transformed before his eyes. He should have known better. He’d already been attracted to her, inexplicably perhaps, but now? Now he wanted to mark her as his and kill any man who dared to touch her.
Gavretti’s eyes narrowed as his gaze slipped back and forth between them. “If I had known she was yours, Renzo—”
“She is,” he stated with finality.
He could feel Faith stiffening in outrage. Because she did not yet realize the truth. “Renzo, I am not—”
He cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers, silencing her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FAITH was furious. She sat in Renzo’s sports car, her arms folded over her breasts and her head turned toward the window, seething. Renzo shifted smoothly, the engine revving into the night as the car raced along the Tuscan roads toward his villa.
How dared he? First, Niccolo Gavretti had thought he could have his way with her, and then Renzo had come along—hot, furious and broody as hell—and the standoff had begun. It wasn’t about her—it was about who was in control, about who got what he wanted.
Renzo had kissed her in front of all those people while cameras flashed and caught the moment forever. Her heart did a long slide into the bottom of her stomach. It had only been a matter of time before she was photographed with Renzo, so she could hardly be surprised about it.
And yet the panic that clawed into her now wouldn’t go away. She’d done nothing wrong. Not now, and not eight years ago. But she dreaded the attention if that old photograph was brought to light. The shame and helpless rage.
What angered her most about tonight was that Renzo hadn’t kissed her because he’d wanted to, but because he’d wanted to prove something to Nico. He’d been marking her as his, but only because he knew it would irritate the other man.
The moment he’d let her go, she’d turned on her heel and marched for the door. It was the calmest, most rational response she’d been capable of, since staying there would have necessitated her slapping the both of them.
Renzo hadn’t argued when she’d told him she wanted to go. He’d simply led the way to his car and roared out of the driveway without saying another word.
Now, the car ate up the roadway until Faith’s heart began to beat hard for a different reason. “Renzo, you’re scaring me. This isn’t the track.”
He swore, but the car throttled back to a more-reasonable speed. His hands flexed on the wheel, and his handsome face was harsh in the lights from the dash. He looked furious, which only fueled her anger.
“I don’t know why you’re angry,” she said. “I’m not the one who embarrassed you by kissing you in front of all those people.”
He shot her a disbelieving glance. “You’re embarrassed? Over what?”
She turned toward him, arms still crossed, her heart racing. It was merely a game to him, while to her it could mean being the subject of public scrutiny again. “I realize that you may think you’re God’s gift—heaven knows enough women have told you so—but not everyone wants their private life put on display for the world to see. Not only that, but we have no private life! You did it just to prove a point to Nico.”
His eyes flashed. “Do not call that man Nico,” he growled. “He only wanted to use you so he could get to me.”
Another spike of anger launched her blood pressure into the danger zone. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid, Renzo. Two of Italy’s most famous bachelors fighting over me? I hardly think so. I just happened to be the bone that both dogs decided they wanted to control tonight. If there had been a juicy steak nearby, they’d have fought over that instead.”
Renzo swore again. And then he jerked the car off the road and onto a narrow dirt track she hadn’t seen before he turned. The car jolted to a stop and then he unsnapped her seat belt and reached for her before she knew what he was planning.
He crushed her mouth beneath his, his fingers sliding into her hair, his tongue demanding
entrance. She opened to him, too shocked by the onslaught to protest. She should be angry. She should push him away. She should do anything but let him kiss her as if he were a dying man and she the last hope he had for salvation.
But, shockingly, she was turned on. Her body was on fire. Her nerve endings were zinging with sparks and her sex ached for his possession. She was throbbing, aching, melting—needing things she’d never needed before.
His tongue delved deep, demanding that she meet him, that she give him everything.
She did.
He slid one hand up her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. Part of her wanted to clamp her legs together, to tell him no, but that was her father talking. Her damned childhood talking.
She was a woman, and she was capable of wanting a man, of choosing the man who would be her first. It wasn’t wrong or ugly to feel this way. It was a revelation.
A glorious, exciting, shattering revelation.
Renzo’s fingers spread along her hip, shaped her as she tried to get closer to him. When his hand slid over her panties, she had to force herself to keep breathing. She did not know what he would do, but she found herself hoping he would touch her. Dying for him to touch her.
And frightened, too.
And then he slid one finger across the thin silk, and then down … down over the damp heat of her. The groan that emanated from his throat vibrated into her. Thrilled her.
His finger stroked over her again, eliciting a moan. Every thought in her head flew out the window. All she wanted was to feel more of this delicious sensation, this wicked pleasure. He kissed her hard, and she shuddered and arched against his hand, wanting the barrier gone, wanting to feel everything.
She wanted more. More.
He skimmed his mouth down her throat, leaving a trail of hot kisses as the temperature in the car spiked. Faith closed her eyes, gasping at the sensual onslaught.
“I want you, Faith. I want you. It has nothing to do with Gavretti, nothing to do with anyone but you. I want to take you to my bed and spend the night lost in your body. I’ve been imagining all the things I want to do to you for the past week. All the ways in which I want to explore you.”
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