Taught by the Tycoon

by Shelli Stevens

  He’d made love to more than one woman on this jet, but right now they all seemed completely insignificant. He couldn’t remember their faces or names. Right now there was only Rachel. More than anything he wanted to slide his hands back down to her ass, lift her, and carry her to the couch to make love to her.

  “In the end it’s simply sex, Damiano.” She eased off his lap and stepped away. Even though her words were blasé enough, there was a slight tremble in her hands that betrayed her.

  She might want to write this passion between them off as no big deal, or an everyday occurrence, but clearly she was as shaken by the intensity of it as he was.

  “Of course.” He gave a faint smile as she sat back in her seat across the aisle.

  He sensed they both knew that sex between them would be anything but simply sex. And by the end of the week he’d prove it to her.

  With that mental challenge now on his plate, he reached for his laptop and went back to work.

  Chapter 13

  It was already dark once they arrived in Milan. As they drove through the streets, Rachel watched the passing scenery with the usual fascination. One of her favorite places was the heart of the city—the Piazza del Duomo.

  She always made time to explore the breathtaking Milan Cathedral with its stained glass windows and impressive gothic architecture. Climbing to the top to see the views of the Alps was one of her favorite things in the world. Some day she hoped to convince Damiano to join her, but that would mean him ceasing to work for a bit.

  The city seemed to have that fast-paced, work-obsessed vibe though. Often it reminded her somewhat of New York. Though while it had the high rises and glamour, the city was a fascinating mix of old and new.

  Milan was the second largest city in Italy, a world center for fashion and not just the birthplace of Damiano Mantovani, but of Mantovani Luxury Goods.

  It started as a small store opened by Damiano’s father and had grown impressively once Damiano had taken over. The line of handbags and luggage made it one of the most sought-after status symbols to women all over the world.

  Damiano answered a call next to her, speaking softly in Italian. They sat in the back of a sleek Bentley, while a quiet chauffeur drove them to the home where Damiano’s mother lived in the heart of the city.

  She kept her attention on the sights outside, finding it much easier to be distracted by them than think about the insanity that had taken place on the plane.

  Somehow they’d both managed to act casual about it afterword, and continue on for the duration of the flight as if they hadn’t just had an incredibly sensual moment together.

  Unwittingly, her hands clenched in her lap as she watched the scooters with the helmetless riders whizzing by. Women walked around in sky-high heels, talking into cell phones. It didn’t matter that it was night, Milan wasn’t sleeping just yet.

  Damiano ended the call a moment later and glanced her way.

  “Are you tired?”

  There was no point in avoiding it any longer, so she turned to glance at him. “A little, I suppose. I’m still on New York time, but it’s been a long day.”

  “It has.”

  “You’ve warned your mother I’m coming on this trip, right?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Just a moment ago in fact.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Just now? What if she needs to make up an extra room—”

  “You will share my room.”

  His amused statement sucked the wind from her and she blinked in dismay. It made sense, of course, if they were posing as a couple. But they should’ve discussed it so she could’ve prepared herself for this.

  “You’re mother’s not really the old-fashioned type? Perhaps she would want us to have separate rooms?”

  “You’ve met her.” His lips twisted sardonically. “I’m sure she would very much like us to be in different rooms, but she knows me. She knows what I expect.”

  “And that’s me in your bed.” She swallowed hard. “Figuratively. I mean, literally too this week, just not in the sexual connotation.”

  His amusement grew visibly, even as his voice became silky. “Unless you change your mind, Dolcezza.”

  Her heart tripped even as she arched a brow at him. “I think you know my answer.”

  His gaze settled on her lips momentarily. “Actually, I believe I do.”

  It became hard to swallow with her tongue so thick in her mouth. He’d essentially just called her bluff and she kind of hated him for it. And kind of loved it.

  This little flirtatious stage was so dangerous between them. What if, heaven forbid, they slept together. Because he was right, she wanted to. But where could it possibly go from there? She’d wake up in the morning and Damiano would still be her boss.

  Maybe she’d gotten into deep hot water with what had happened in the past two days, but she wasn’t boiling yet. They hadn’t officially slept together. Had a hot make out session, yes, but not quite sex.

  The voice in her head whispered how lame her reasoning was right now.

  “Was she all right with me staying with you?”

  As he’d pointed out, she had indeed met his mother before. Christina Mantovani had always been very polite and nice in a distant sort of way. Now that Rachel was returning as Damiano’s faux lover, though, she couldn’t help but wonder if things might be a little different. She’d be staying in the woman’s home, and Rachel had never actually visited it.

  “She will be fine with it.”

  Uh oh. That wasn’t exactly promising. She didn’t have time to press it further though, because the Bentley arrived outside what must’ve been a seventeenth century building.

  “She lives here?”

  “Yes, her property is a condo in the building, located over all three stories. It’s quite large, I promise you.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  The driver exited the car and began to retrieve their luggage, but Damiano made no attempt to leave the Bentley.

  “Are you ready?” He touched her cheek, his gaze searching hers.

  “I think so.”

  “You must be convincing.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “This will help.” His head swooped down, blocking out the street lamps, before his lips crushed hers.

  The kiss was hard and fast. Claiming and giving her little choice but to submit to the sensual assault. Her head spun and she clutched his shirt, letting her tongue brush against his.

  She felt his hand in her hair, tugging her head back as he rained kisses on her chin and then neck, before back up and seeking her mouth once more.

  How many minutes passed, she couldn’t even have been sure. When he lifted his head and released her, she wasn’t even sure what city she was in anymore.

  The ability to think was slow in returning.

  “There.” He touched his thumb to her bottom lip. “You look perfect.”

  Dumbfounded, and struggling to string two thoughts together, Rachel watched him climb out of the car.

  She looked perfect? Hardly. She looked tousled and clearly like someone who’d just been thoroughly kissed. Which...was probably exactly what he’d hoped to achieve.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She was such a fool. Again she’d somehow assumed he just couldn’t keep his hands off her and had been overcome by passion.

  Hardly. He’d just been making her disheveled and ready to see his mother.

  Damiano opened her door a moment later and helped her from the car. The chauffeur and several other men who’d appeared were carrying their luggage in.

  As they entered the first floor of the condo, his arm around her waist, Rachel spotted Christina Mantovani speaking into her cell phone. The older woman sat on a modern, angular sofa that seemed more like an art piece than a couch, one that couldn’t possibly be comfortable.

  The moment she spotted Damiano, she ended the call and stood, rushing to greet them.

  Damiano released her to hug his
mother and they spoke in a flurry of Italian for at least a minute. Christina’s gaze shone with love and happiness as they conversed, and finally their discussion ceased and her attention slid to Rachel.

  While Christina’s smile remained bright, the sparkle of delight in the other woman’s eyes dimmed.

  “Miss Edmunds.” The older woman gave her a nod of acknowledgement. “I will switch to English, as you do not speak Italian.”

  So likely Damiano’s mother was not thrilled about Rachel and her son being a couple, as the first subtle blow had just been dealt. Rachel gave a slight smile.

  “No more than a few phrases, unfortunately. A pleasure to see you again, Ms. Mantovani.”

  Christina said nothing, but gave a slight smile. Not so subtle blow number two.

  Damiano returned to Rachel’s side, sliding an arm back around her waist. “Mama, we’re weary from traveling today. I will show Rachel to our room and we can speak later, sí?”

  “Sí.” With a small nod, Christina returned to the leather couch and to whatever she’d been doing on her cell phone.

  Once in their large, expensively decorated room, Rachel grimaced and turned to face Damiano as he closed the door.

  “Clearly your mother is thrilled we’re a couple.”

  Damiano crossed the floor to her, a slow, deliberate stride. Once in front of her, he reached out to grasp both of her hands and her heart skittered.

  “I’m not quite certain which lesson we’re on,” he admitted, “but your latest lesson is to remember this. There will be a chance you will not be deemed good enough by the mother of the man you date. Whether he’s a billionaire or a bartender.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “You should be kind, and gracious, but never let yourself be degraded.”

  His gaze settled on her mouth, as if he was considering kissing her again. But why? There was no audience now.

  “Stay true to who you are, Dolcezza, and she will come to adore you.”

  He made no move to lower his mouth to hers, but instead squeezed her hands. That may have disappointed her more than she cared to acknowledge.

  “Thank you, Damiano.” She offered a slight smile. “Even if that sounds a bit greeting-card like.”

  “Perhaps, but it is the truth.” He hesitated, seeming about to leave, but maybe wanting to say more. Finally he gave a brisk nod. “I must go visit with my mother. Please, make yourself comfortable. Sleep if you wish. I shall return later tonight.”

  And sleep where exactly? She didn’t ask, but instead turned to look around their large quarters. There was a couch, but the question was, would he take it?

  Chapter 14

  Damiano entered the first floor living room and took the seat across from his mother. Christina, who’d been typing into her phone, set it down a moment later and smiled.

  “I am so happy to see you home, Damiano. You should stay longer. You work too hard.”

  “It is my nature.” He leaned back in the chair and gave his mother a pointed glance. “You are not happy about Rachel.”

  With Rachel upstairs, they spoke their native Italian.

  His mom lifted one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “She is a nice enough person. And I had no problem with her when she was your employee.”

  “But you do as my lover?”

  “I am not convinced she is a good match for you. Maria is so much better suited.” His mother’s lower lip protruded into a pout that had made her past three husbands jump through hoops to please her.

  Damiano had never been swayed by the trick. “Why, mama?” Because Maria is Italian and Rachel is not? Surely such a thing is trivial, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

  Though he doubted any woman would ever be good enough for him in his mother’s eyes.

  “And does she have your heart?”

  His mother was just as masterful at calling a bluff as he was. While he didn’t intend to answer that question directly, he settled with, “I want no one but Rachel.”

  Which at the moment was completely true if they were discussing her being in his bed. Just now, he thought about her upstairs, maybe taking a shower, or maybe just crawling into the oversized bed with exhaustion.

  Dio, but it took everything in his power not to race up the marbled stairs to be with her. To make good on that promise he’d made to himself to prove her wrong about it being just sex.

  “I find it quite convenient that you reveal a serious lover to the world, just days before you return to Milan.” His mother stood from the sofa and walked to the sleek mini bar in the corner. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Thank you, no.”

  “What are your plans for tomorrow?” She mixed herself a drink and then took a sip.

  “A business lunch and then nothing particular.”

  “Good. You will bring Rachel to dinner to meet the family tomorrow night.”

  Merda. The amused glint in her eyes warned him she was up to something.

  He loved his mother, but sometimes he wondered if it was due to the biological connection mostly. An instinct that he was supposed to follow.

  But she was sharp, conniving, and often didn’t care who she had to step on or hurt to get what she wanted out of life. His chest tightened and anger brewed in his belly as he remembered being on the receiving end of that manipulation at one point. At the time he’d wanted to hate her, and still, sometimes, that long-buried rage bubbled to the surface.

  Christina Mantovani could’ve been a fierce businesswoman and put Damiano’s father to shame. Only she’d never had interest in the business side of money, only in spending said cash. She was happy being a beautiful Italian wife and arm candy to whoever her current husband might be.

  “Dinner will be lovely.” He walked to his mother, placed his hands on her shoulders, and kissed each cheek. “I must retire to bed, mama. It has been a long day.”

  The pout returned. “She controls you so much that you cannot leave her alone for even an hour?”

  “No woman will ever control me,” he murmured coolly. “As I have said, I’m tired.”

  Dio, why had he told his mother they would stay here? If Rachel succeeded in shifting his meetings, he would consider taking her to his house on the lake for the remainder of the week.

  The idea held appeal and had played in the back of his mind all day. Now he warmed to the idea even more. His intent to seduce Rachel would be a bit more awkward under his mother’s roof, but if he took her to the lake house it would be the perfect setting.

  “Go then.” His mother waved a hand of dismissal. “Dinner will be at seven tomorrow.”

  She was already halfway through her drink as he made his way back upstairs to Rachel.

  Would she be asleep? It was nearly eleven, and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  When he quietly opened the door to their bedroom, his gaze slid to the bed and found it empty. Movement in the corner of the room had him glancing to the right.

  She stood beside the couch, arranging a bed on it with blankets and a pillow. She wore long, plaid pajama bottoms and some kind of camisole on top.

  For the first time that he could remember, he noticed that her hair was down. It cascaded around her shoulders in long, dark, gorgeous waves.

  He balled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to stride over to her and sink his hands into the locks. To curl his fingers around the strands and pull her head back and seek her mouth with his again.

  Merda. What was she doing to him?

  She turned just then, as if sensing him, and her mouth rounded in an O. The side view of her body showed that the camisole clung to the small swell of her breasts and hugged her flat stomach.

  Desire slammed into him, racing his pulse and stirring the blood in his groin.

  She shifted her stance, hugging a pillow to her chest now. “You can have the bed, or course. I found a blanket in the closet and will make myself comfortable on the couch. I, um, stole a pillow though. I hope that’s okay.”


  “No.” He gave a terse shake of his head and advanced toward her. “It is not okay.”

  Her eyes widened and her cheeks filled with color. She thrust the pillow between them.

  “Sorry, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem, you can have it back.”

  He plucked the pillow from her hands and tossed it back onto the couch.

  “I don’t care about the pillow, Dolcezza.” He lifted her off the ground and into his arms a moment later.

  She made an alarmed gasp, even as her arms wove around his neck to cling to him for support.

  He carried her back to the king-sized bed and dropped her in the middle of it. But before she could scramble back up, he sat down on the edge and leaned over her, trapping her with his arms and placing his hands on either side of her. Her eyes were impossibly wide now.

  “I’m not sleeping with you.” Her words were unsteady, and he could see the furious beating of the pulse in her neck.

  Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to it and she trembled.

  “You think not?” He kissed the side of her mouth. “I want you, Rachel.”

  She let out a shuddering breath, her head turning so their lips almost brushed. But she whispered, “We can’t.”

  “We can.” He lowered his head the tiny distance to press his mouth against hers. “We will.”

  Her lashes drifted shut and she whimpered softly. He lifted his head to stare down at her for a moment. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moist and parted. Through the thin cotton of her blue camisole, he could see the thrust of her tightened nipples.

  Moving one hand upward, he cupped her breast and stroked the tip with his thumb. Her hips came off the bed and she cried out his name. His cock became granite hard and he drew in a sharp breath.

  Dio, but he’d carried her to the bed to leave her alone in it. He would take the couch tonight. But when he’d laid her down, he’d imagined her in the throes of pleasure.

  Now, seeing her like this, completely on the edge and unable to admit what she wanted, he knew couldn’t walk away just yet.

  He repositioned himself just slightly, and then lowered his head to take the fabric-covered nipple into his mouth.