Taught by the Tycoon

by Shelli Stevens

  Odd choice of words. He was used to making deals every day of his life, but he didn’t see keeping an intimate relationship with Rachel as a deal.

  “You will stay with me tonight?”

  Her lips parted slightly. “At your penthouse in Manhattan?”

  “Sí.”

  “I should get clothes, prepare things for the work week.” Her protests were feeble, ending on a moan when he kissed the side of her neck. “But I suppose I could retrieve those tomorrow after work.”

  “Tomorrow is an excellent idea. And anything that cannot wait can be laundered by my housekeeper before morning.” He cupped her breast, stroking the already tight nipple.

  “Don’t you let your staff sleep?” Her words nearly ran together, thick with arousal.

  He loved that about her. How easily her body woke to his touch. How she always seemed to want him when he wanted her. They were well-matched sexually.

  In many ways really. He snuffed out the little voice of romanticism in his head.

  “They are paid to be available to me whenever I need them.”

  She watched him through hooded eyes, not stopping him as he began to unfasten her blouse.

  “Nothing is off limits to you,” she murmured. “You can have anything or anyone you want. When you want.”

  He didn’t deny it as he pulled one silky bra cup off her breast. “And right now I want you, Dolcezza.”

  When he drew her nipple into his mouth, she sighed and delved her fingers into his hair, holding his head to her.

  “You have me,” she whispered, and then no more words were spoken as he moved to kneel on the floor in front of her. He pushed her skirt to her waist and tugged her panties to the side.

  He set out to drown the memory of Maria’s words under a sea of passion, taking her with his mouth the way she’d done to him yesterday.

  There were no more protests. No more angry accusations. There were only her cries of pleasure as she rocked against his mouth.

  Mine.

  The word resounded in his head as he brought her to climax. She came undone, sobbing and clutching him. And he stayed with her, enjoying her release almost as much as the taste of her on his tongue.

  Moments later he had her limp body cradled in his lap in the plush leather chair on the plane.

  Her head rested over his heart and her fingers traced up and down his biceps. A surge of protectiveness mingled with the possessiveness. Dio, but he wanted to live in this moment forever.

  She didn’t move, seemed almost to be asleep in his arms, but then came her drowsy, nearly inaudible words that changed everything.

  “I love you.”

  Monday morning was like a big glass of ice water to the face. The magical week in Italy quickly seemed like a hazy dream.

  Rachel was kept on her toes and moving nonstop, barely having time to think about anything outside of her job at Mantovani.

  Which was a little awkward, being that she spent most of her time running in and out of Damiano’s office. Taking his calls and scheduling his meetings.

  It kept her distracted enough that she didn’t dwell on the whispers and stares from other employees in the company. The way people would stop talking when she approached. The throats that would clear and the gazes that would avert.

  She and Damiano were a hot topic, and she hated herself for not preparing for that setting upon her return.

  Damiano seemed oblivious, then again he rarely left his office and when he did, it was to stride briskly down the posh halls of the building and out the door to his waiting Rolls Royce for a lunch meeting.

  By the end of the day, her nerves were a little frayed and she wanted more than anything to go home. Her home. Not Damiano’s amazing penthouse, but her little Brooklyn apartment. She was overdosing a little on his luxury lifestyle.

  When she entered Damiano’s office, he was just finished up with a phone call.

  He arched a brow at her and gave her that lazy smile that made her heart dance a little. “You look tired. Is the time change an adjustment?”

  “It always is for a day or two, but I’ll be fine.” She bit her lip. “I want to go home to my place tonight.”

  His smile faded and his brows furrowed. “You need time alone?”

  She hesitated. The idea of being away from him actually made her stomach sink, but she needed normalcy too.

  “Not necessarily alone time, I just need...a change.”

  “I see.” But clearly he didn’t, because his frown didn’t ease.

  “You could come with me,” she suggested impulsively.

  “Come with you where exactly?”

  “To my apartment. Stay with me tonight.” She sat down in the chair across from him and crossed one leg over another. “We always do your type of thing, with the expensive, exclusive restaurants and chauffeured cars. Come see how the other half lives. Other half being me.”

  His frown deepened. “I suppose I could do that.”

  “You absolutely could. You keep a bag with spare clothes in your office.” She knew because she was the one who always ensured it was packed and left here.

  Too often he would not go home for the night, for any multitude of reasons. He’d snag a room at the closest five star hotel and call it good.

  “All right. We’ll go to your apartment for the evening. I can have my driver pick us up—”

  “And we’ll be stuck in traffic for hours. I know you’ve lived in New York for nearly two decades now, but you still have so much to learn,” she teased. “We can take the subway and get there in half the time.”

  “Right. The subway.” His eyes flickered with a memory, and a bit of wonder crossed his face. “I used to be quite good at it when we were in school.”

  “You were. And I’ll get you back to pro status.” She stood up again and held out her hand. “Trust me. You’ll have fun tonight.”

  He eyed her hand for a moment before giving a wry smile and taking it.

  “I undoubtedly will.” Instead of letting her lead him from the room, though, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “With you it is a given.”

  Her pulse quickened with pleasure and she felt color steal into her cheeks. Every minute with him she swore she fell a little harder for him. On the plane ride home, when he’d taken her with his mouth, she’d climaxed so hard there’d been tears in her eyes.

  She couldn’t deny that she loved him, and had dreamt that she had told him as much. Which was about the closest she could ever get to uttering the words, because she knew they’d send her perfectly poised boss into a tizzy.

  He didn’t want love. He didn’t want commitment. And so she’d stay in this sexy, wonderful affair until her heart couldn’t take it any longer. Or Damiano grew tired of her. She suspected the latter would happen first.

  After swallowing hard, she tugged her hand back and gave him what she hoped was a carefree grin. “Shall we then?”

  Chapter 21

  Damiano did marvelous on the subway, figuring out how to get them to Greenwich Village for dinner, and seeming as curious and eager as any of the many tourists crowding the train.

  They exited the subway tunnels to the streets above. He caught her hand as they walked. “I’m amazed at how easy that was. How quick.”

  “I’m amazed you’re just now realizing traffic in Manhattan is terrible, and the subway would save you so much time.”

  He scowled, but it was more for show. “I’ve grown quite spoiled with being driven around. And it’s expected of me to arrive in some ridiculously overpriced luxury car with tinted windows.”

  She laughed. “Well buck the trend more often. It’s not like you’d be the first billionaire to ride the subway.”

  “You are a wise one.” He came to a stop in the middle of the street, forcing her to stumble to a halt beside him. “You’re an exceptional P.A. and quite possibly an even better lover.”

  She made a piqued noise to protest his statement, but he was already pressing a s
olid kiss on her mouth. And then it was immediately over and he was leading her through the streets with an uncharacteristically large grin on his face.

  “Which restaurant will we go to for dinner?” he queried. “One of your charming restaurants you’ve told me about?”

  Her heart skipped at his willingness to let loose and slum a little—so to speak—with her. “I think I know a few you would love.”

  “I’m in your capable hands, Dolcezza. Do with me what you will.”

  As she glanced up at him through her lashes, Rachel tried to remember the last time—if ever—she’d seen him so carefree. He was like an entirely different person.

  “We need to get you out of Manhattan more often. I think this is good for you.”

  “Agreed. How far is this place again?” he asked, when they’d been walking for several minutes.

  She glanced at him and hid a smile. “Not tired of walking already are you? I thought you ran everyday.”

  “Hmm, I do, but it’s on a treadmill.”

  “You should try running in Central park.”

  He brightened. “My treadmill is in front of a window that overlooks Central Park.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Not exactly the same thing. We’ll have to go running in the park together sometime.”

  His hand tightened around hers and he glanced down at her. “I think I’d like that very much.”

  The intimacy in his eyes and the honesty in his words had her stomach doing little flips and her pulse racing.

  “You would,” she promised, and then tore her gaze away before he saw too much in her eyes.

  Damiano turned his gaze back to the sidewalk they walked on and tried not to analyze why he felt so damn happy right now. So relaxed.

  Her hand in his grasp felt small and delicate. Everything about her seemed delicate, and she wasn’t a petite woman. But something in his heart had softened toward her when he’d heard her mutter that drowsy declaration of love.

  She hadn’t mentioned the L word again, and he now believed she’d been caught up in the moment. Probably hadn’t even realized she’d said it aloud.

  But there was a part of him, a completely impractical part of him, that had reveled in her whispered confession. Had wanted it to be true and not just meaningless pillow talk. Which was terrifying, because he didn’t want her love. Didn’t deserve it, because he couldn’t return it.

  “Here’s the restaurant just up ahead. Do you enjoy Caribbean food?”

  He pursed his lips and struggled to recall. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever had it.”

  “You’ve probably had it in some form. And I can promise that you’re going to love Miss Lily’s.”

  When he stepped into the interior of the restaurant, he had a moment of discomfort. He was used to elegance, dim settings and private booths; this place was the complete opposite. The vibrant, diner-style interior had a diamond-checkered floor and the tables were close together. There would be no intimate, candlelit booth here.

  “You doing okay?” Amusement laced her words as she tugged him over the threshold. “We may have to wait a few minutes for a table, but I swear to you it’ll be worth it.”

  When he sank his teeth into the first bite of jerk chicken a while later, he closed his eyes and let out a small moan in agreement.

  “Told you so.” She nudged his foot with her own under the table. “You’ve totally got your O face on and you’re not even having sex.”

  He nearly choked on the bite of food in his mouth as he shot quick glances around the restaurant. Fortunately everyone seemed to be deep in conversation.

  “Relax, there are some discussions going on around us that would have you blushing to the tips of your Italian toes.”

  “I don’t blush.”

  “I could make you blush.” She gave a slow grin and lifted her corn toward him. “Why don’t you nibble on my hot, moist corn?”

  “Is that supposed to make me blush or make me hungry?”

  “You decide.”

  He leaned forward anyway and took the bite she offered. The jerk mayo and coconut on it was a mix of taste sensations and he closed his eyes with another murmur of approval.

  “Okay,” he murmured, after he swallowed, “now that was amazing.”

  “Isn’t it?” She laughed and tugged the corn back. “See, I’ll never lead you astray. I knew you’d enjoy this place.”

  They ate their dinner with a conversation that never felt forced. Never dwindled. She made him laugh and occasionally he got a small one in return from her.

  While there was the underlying sexual tension, it was faint and lighter. Without urgency, because they both knew how the evening would ultimately end. In her bed, making love and enjoying every moment of it.

  After he paid for their dinner, they walked through the streets holding hands, enjoying the early June sunshine.

  She passed under a tree and the sunlight caught her face, bringing out the green in her hazel eyes, and his chest swelled with an emotion so completely unfamiliar to him.

  A mix of tenderness. Protectiveness. And a romanticism that might be native to his countrymen, but rarely him.

  She still chatted away, something about kayaking now, but her words became fuzzy and he could only hear the beating of his heart. Everything slowed down as her lashes fell and lifted in a blink that must’ve been a half second.

  Without realizing what he was doing, he slid as arm around her waist and pulled her into his arms, halting their leisurely stride.

  Her eyes widened when he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, but she didn’t do more than give a murmur of surprise when he lowered his mouth to hers in a slow, thorough kiss.

  Her arms slid up and around his neck as she kissed him back. She tasted of all the Caribbean spices they’d just eaten, with the sweetness of a woman that was all Rachel.

  Kissing a woman so blatantly, so publicly in the middle of New York City, was completely atypical of him. And that anarchic side of him embraced it. Embraced everything that had happened in the last week.

  When she finally pulled away and drew in a deep breath, her eyes were bright with need, but also with the very emotion she’d admitted to on the plane. There could be no doubting it now, no convincing himself it had been a fluke.

  Rachel looked and acted like a woman in love. As if he needed more proof, she slid her arms around his waist and tucked her head against his shoulder. Snuggling close.

  He wrapped his arms around her, even as his emotions slowly began to shut down.

  “I never wanted to feel this way about you.”

  Her words were soft, but certainly meant to be heard. She lifted her head to look at him, and he knew she waited for him to ask ‘which way’.

  His jaw flexed as bile rose in his throat. Anything but love. Maybe the lust he was so eager to write off earlier would’ve been better than this.

  Love was not an emotion he allowed himself. Not anymore. Not since he was eighteen and had believed himself in the throes of it.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead as his heart thudded faster in his chest.

  “I want you.” He gave her safe words. Non-committal words that had the reaction he’d hoped.

  Her breathing hitched and her hands slid up his back to his shoulders. Her breasts crushed against his chest.

  “Then we should catch the next train home,” she said softly, watching him from beneath her lashes. She stepped back and caught his hand. “Come on.”

  The next week passed by in a blur. They alternated between staying at her house and his condo. The compromise was a good balance and seemed to suit both of them well.

  But during the workday, Damiano couldn’t help but notice the looks and whispers in the halls of his corporation. The way gazes would dart from him to Rachel, and then away quickly.

  Rachel tried to ignore it, he could see, but a couple of times he’d seen the flicker of discomfort on her face. The embarrassment.

  By the seco
nd week back at the office she was beginning to show cracks around the edges. Sometimes she would become a bit testier, her replies to his requests or orders more clipped.

  His stomach was knotted throughout the day at the way she had to hold her head up high at the office and ignore the gossip. But out of the office, and in each others’ arms, things stayed as passionate and heavenly as ever. He could let himself forget that their relationship—or lack thereof—was somewhat scandalous.

  It was at work, midway through the day, when the call came in. Not to his cell, but to his private office line. He had no chance to brace for the caller and the conversation ahead.

  “She’ll never be respected in the job force again.” Theo’s words were frigid. “You lied to me, Damiano.”

  “Theo.” He closed his eyes, not even trying to smother the tsunami of guilt swelling through him.

  “Surely she’s become a joke around the Mantovani headquarters. Your little assistant slash whore. This is Rachel. My sister. And you had to go and make her one of your flavors of the week. Jesus, what if she falls in love with you? What if you got her pregnant?”

  The last two questions chilled Damiano the most, because one was likely true, and the other was entirely possible.

  “I’m sorry, Theo.” He struggled against the thickness in his throat. “Your sister is much more than a throwaway lover to me.”

  Theo let out a stream of curses, and finally demanded, “Do you love her?”

  He couldn’t answer that. Finally, Damiano just shook his head and muttered, “I will make things right.” And then hung up the phone.

  His fingers trembled as he pressed them against his temple, swallowing the rising unease in his gut. When he felt a bit calmer, he picked up the phone and made another call.

  What a relief to be done with work today.

  Rachel snuggled up against Damiano on the car ride back to his penthouse. They were heading to his place for the night, after spending two at her apartment.

  She bit back a sigh, trying not to let herself stress out about the complete disparities of her days and her nights. She was terribly self-conscious and uncomfortable at work, and so deliriously happy at night.