by Olivia Gates
Another woman would have been flattered out of her mind, with all sorts of ludicrous hopes soaring. Her response had been to stress what self-preservation dictated this should be—their first and last lunch together.
He’d given her an enigmatic look and let her statement stand. Either he agreed, or he’d let her say whatever she wanted because he knew he’d get his way in the end anyway.
Now she stole another glance at his sonnet-worthy profile as he negotiated a stretch of unruly traffic in downtown LA. Questions spun faster inside her mind.
What exactly was his way? What could he want with her? It couldn’t be her as a woman that he was after. Could it?
Okay, so she was pretty enough, in what people called an unusual way. She’d had lots of interest from good-looking and successful guys. It had been her who’d been uninterested. A romance, or even a hookup, with all promised upsides, hadn’t been worth the consequences she’d obsessively calculated.
But in comparison, any guy was a straggly tomcat to this majestic lion beside her. Whatever her attractions to men, she couldn’t be up to his standards, not when he waded among the rare beauties of the world and didn’t give even them the time of day.
That brought her back to her one plausible theory. That she entertained him like none had ever done, intrigued him because she hadn’t fallen at his feet, and was still challenging him with every breath. Even as she melted inside.
“We’re here.”
His deep drawl jerked her out of her musings as he brought the car to a smooth stop. He sprang from the low-slung car fluidly, then rushed around to help her out. Her exit from the car was nowhere as seamless as his, his boost compromising her balance more, landing her against his unyielding strength.
He steadied her, that disturbing intimacy flaring in his eyes, and every primal urge in her fiercely wished she could remain engulfed in his heat and dominance and security.
As her ingrained aloofness kicked in and she stepped away from his support, a valet rushed to take the car away. Assorted other men in formal suits—she counted six—descended from two cars and stood at varying distances, clearly his bodyguards.
Following the trajectory of her gaze, Antonio sighed as he guided her over the curb to wide marble stairs. “That’s my partner Richard being overprotective. He’s Black Castle Enterprises’ security specialist, and his men follow us every second, till we die. If it’s up to him, we never will.”
Something dreadful lurched inside her at the thought of such an indomitable being dying.
His gaze stilled on her face, as if he’d felt the intensity of her reaction and was probing her mind for its cause. “I hope it’s not bothering you.”
She blinked up at him as they ascended the stairs toward an ornately carved mahogany double door. “Why should it?”
“Because you’re out with a man who allegedly needs that much protection. Not a comforting thought, I’m sure.”
That was what he’d thought had dismayed her?
Not that she could fault his inaccuracy. She’d given him no reason to think she’d be disturbed at the thought of his death. But she was, jarringly so.
“When we try to make him lay off, Richard tells us we’re lucky he posts guards at that distance. It’s pointless arguing with him when his only alternative is 24/7 surveillance much closer up.”
“He has a good reason for his vigilance,” she murmured. “You’re too high-profile. You’re as recognizable as any Hollywood celebrity, and much more influential. There must be many people whose lives would be easier with you out of the way.”
She fought not to clutch his arm in reflex protection as two doormen opened the doors for them. She hoped he’d tell her that she watched too many action movies, that paranoid prophylactic measures were merely part of his partner’s job.
As if diagnosing her anxiety right this time, his gaze gentled. “As you so keenly observed before, I never make enemies. I also make sure it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep me around and healthy. I’m in no danger whatsoever.”
“Really?”
His smile broke out again, brightening her mood at once after the sharp dip it had taken. “Really.”
Believing him, she exhaled her pent-up breath. “But the valet is your man. You wouldn’t trust someone you haven’t picked and vetted yourself with that car of yours.”
His eyes glowed, though with what she couldn’t diagnose. Whatever it was, a girl could get addicted to it, could get lost in it, and be lost without it.
“That’s the mind I wanted working on my projects.”
“An hour ago you considered that that mind jumps to rash and unsubstantiated assumptions.”
“Only when it comes to my motives. We did agree I invert your thought process. How about you try to keep it upright from now on?”
“I don’t do it on purpose, you know. But I’ll try for the duration of lunch. Should be easier when I’m busy eating.”
He swept an arm forward to usher her inside. “Then by all means, let’s eat.”
The restaurant he’d chosen turned out to be a place she hadn’t known existed in the city she’d lived in for the past eight years. Inside a building she’d passed a hundred times before.
On the outside, it looked like any other upscale building in LA. On the inside, it made any other grand place she’d ever been inside look shabby. It wasn’t only the old-world, aristocratic luxury, but the very atmosphere radiated mystery and exclusivity. She kept expecting to see James Bond and his gallery of villains walking through the hyper-real setting.
But then, next to the god who led her deeper into his domain, every other larger-than-life character, real or fictional, would fade to nothing.
As they made their way deeper into what had to be a club of some sort, everyone in their path, each clearly hailing from a world of extreme breeding and wealth, exclaimed reverential greetings. Some actually bowed.
And she’d thought the Italian clan she belonged to by birth, who’d recently burst into her existence, was the epitome of elitism. But Antonio’s affluence, not to mention the awe he commanded, far surpassed the Accardis.
Not that wealth or power were of any interest to her. Her family’s or his. The only reason she was debating entering her father’s world was so she would have the family she’d never had. As for Antonio, the trappings of fame and fortune actually detracted from the far more impressive man cloaked in them.
With a hand on the small of her back, he led her into a ballroom-sized room with only one table for two in the center, exquisitely set in silk, silver and crystal. Her mind boggled at what it took to empty such a place and reserve it exclusively, at such short notice. If he didn’t keep it perpetually reserved for himself, that was.
He’d just sat down opposite her when her phone vibrated with a loud buzz in her purse. Still jangling from Antonio’s gossamer touches as he’d seated her, she almost jumped.
His hand rose in pure graciousness, permitting her to take the call, but his eyes remained fixed on her, letting her know he’d give her no privacy.
Getting the phone out, she fumbled it in unsteady hands, mumbled her chagrin at him, and herself, under her breath. It came out louder than she’d intended, since it elicited a blinding flash of his teeth.
She reeled in her runaway reactions, groaning as she saw the caller ID. Not the best time to talk to the other man who caused her emotional upheavals.
The moment she croaked a hello, her father’s voice burst into her ear. “Mia bella Lilianissima, how are you, tesoro?”
Lili winced. Her father’s over-the-top enthusiasm never ceased to jar her. It was weird he’d be so vocally eager after a lifetime of not even acknowledging her existence. It was even more unsettling after her mother’s detached treatment, and the fact that Lili had been raised to think her father and the w
hole Accardi clan had ice water running in their blue-blooded veins. Recently, everything had been one contradiction after the other.
She took a breath and steadied her voice before she spoke. “I’m fine, Alberto. How are you?”
“Tesoro, when will you start calling me Padre or Daddy?”
She licked her lips, Antonio’s vigilance intensifying her nervousness. “Maybe one day I can manage Father...”
“Then make that day today, tesoro. Per favore!”
“Uh, listen, Albe... Father...” She paused as her father celebrated her capitulation on the other end with another deluge of endearments. “I’d love to talk, really, but I’m at lunch with...an associate.” Antonio’s eyes glowed with something that made the electricity surging through her system spike. “I’ll call you when I get home. Or tomorrow. With our time difference it must be already very late for you.”
“I’m not in Venice, tesoro. I’m in New York City. Among the reasons I’m calling you is to tell you all the US-based Accardis are anxious to meet you. They’re holding a reception in your honor in our main ancestral home here.”
She almost blurted out a refusal. Not that she expected such an event to be unpleasant. So far every Accardi her father had introduced to her had been gracious and welcoming. Either her mother had falsely advertised the family in order to explain why they never had anything to do with them, or they were accommodating her father’s fervent desire to include her in their exclusive ranks. Up till now, though, she’d met the Accardis one or two at a time. The idea of meeting them en masse was enough to give her performance anxiety.
“Is this weekend good for you?”
“No.” The response came out far sharper than she’d intended. Biting her tongue, she tried again. “I...have work to do.”
“On the weekend?”
Her gaze again clashed with Antonio’s watchful one, then saw the satisfaction there. Her blood heated to the point where she felt steam rising off her body.
“Our lab has been taken over, and our new taskmaster has turned things upside down. I’m behind in my schedule because of his antics, and I have no idea when I’ll get caught up.”
Antonio’s grin became as wide as she’d ever seen it as he beckoned to a waiter bearing champagne chilling in an ice-filled antique silver bucket.
Narrowing her eyes, she moved to end the call. One turmoil-inducing man at a time was her limit.
“Please let them know I’m unavailable this weekend before they put any plans in motion. When I sort out my stuff here, we’ll discuss this further, okay?”
“Certamente, tesoro. Call me whenever it’s convenient for you. Don’t worry about the time difference or any other considerations. Wake me up, interrupt my meetings, anything at all. Talking to you is far more important than anything else. I have a lifetime of unmade calls I need to make up for.”
To that she grumbled something vague around the lump that suddenly filled her throat and ended the call.
As she put her phone away, struggling to swallow through the tightness, Antonio poured champagne in her crystal flute and handed it to her.
“Your father?”
She grimaced. “Rhetorical questions fall under my redundancy ban. My father was so loud you must have heard his every word. And you heard me call him Father.”
He also no doubt knew everything about her personal life, such as it was. Who her father was and that she’d grown up without him must have been the first things in the dossier he must have on her as he had on everyone in his employ. He probably knew the recent developments, too. He just wanted her to elaborate with her own version of details and updates.
At his unrepentant, probing stare, she sighed. “Yeah. My father. Long-absent and recently very much present. Therefore the extreme enthusiasm. He’ll cool off, eventually. But for now I’m the daughter he reconnected with, all grown-up minus the hassle of years of teething, tantrums and teenage angst.”
That still, strange expression on his face deepened before he exhaled. “This is another thing that proves we’re not two different species at all.”
“What? That I happen to have an Italian father, too?”
“And that you grew up without said father.”
“You...” Suddenly the lump was back in her throat. It was ridiculous, when she’d never really considered herself unfortunate, but imagining the boy Antonio had been growing up fatherless...hurt.
It was clear he wasn’t going to elaborate. Which was fine by her. Though curiosity burned inside her, she didn’t want to learn anything that would make her stupidly ache more on his behalf.
To assuage the pain she suffered now, she gulped a big mouthful of silky champagne. “That sort of barely puts us in the same genus.”
He toasted her with his flute. “At least it’s a step up the ladder toward us occupying the same evolutionary status.” Taking a sip, he put his glass down. “But we do share far more than that. We’re both doctors—”
“Who’ve trodden diametrically different paths, have opposing approaches, and reached incomparable results.”
Undeterred, he continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him in this volleying rhythm between them they seem to have perfected. “We’re both unyielding—”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m sitting here having lunch with you in this top secret hideout for billionaires and spies and not watching my sitcoms as I wanted.”
“And that’s why you made me bow to your demands without any of my own objectives realized in return.”
Her lips twisted. “So you say.”
“So it is. This round is all yours.” He beckoned to the maître d’ without taking his gaze off her, a new heat entering his eyes. “But don’t think you’re going to win every time.”
His warning made it sound as if their interactions would continue beyond this lunch, or her going back to work.
A thrill of disbelief, dread and expectation buzzed through her all during their ordering process.
As soon as the maître d’ left, Antonio sat forward, his eyes growing somber, worsening her condition. “There’s just one thing I’m confused about.”
She took another sip to relieve her drying mouth. “You get confused like mortals?”
His smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. “No, I don’t, actually. But you affect me in unprecedented ways. You confuse the hell out of me. Therefore my inability to understand how you would seek the father who abandoned you. I have firsthand knowledge of how you can do without anything or anyone. Not to mention how unforgiving you are.”
“You describe me like such a well-rounded sociopath.”
“I describe myself, too. More things we have in common.”
“Things of which I have a drop while you have an ocean.” She fell silent until the waiters placed soup in front of them and left. “But you’re right, as usual. I had no intention of seeking him out. I lived my life without him and his family, and I never wished to change that. It took him months of persistence after my mother’s death until I finally agreed to see him.”
That earlier strangeness returned, deeper now, as if that piece of information disturbed him. Which made no sense.
Suddenly famished, for food or other things, she sought the refuge of the soup and changed the subject.
For the rest of what turned out to be the most incredible meal she’d ever had, they talked about so many other things, never again broaching anything personal.
After lunch he insisted on taking her to another place for coffee. Another place where he was treated like a god, and where she almost felt it was sacrilegious for her to be. And again, the place had only them.
She finally had to comment. “You emptied the restaurant at your exclusive club, and this place, too, for only us, didn’t you?” He only nodded. “Why? Do you have something against eating in o
ther people’s presence?”
“I ate in yours quite successfully, as I recall.” He leaned back in his seat, regarding her with that intentness she’d come to expect but would never get used to. “I wanted you to relax without intrusions or distractions.”
“I am known for being around human beings without any adverse reactions.” She shook her head, picked up her cappuccino cup, the finest china she’d ever touched. “But you’re way stronger than I am. Apart from the evident ways.”
“Care to explain that statement?”
“You can stomach all this over-the-top luxury and sycophancy. I wouldn’t be able to, even on an occasional basis. It’s actually one of the reasons I’m so reluctant to get any deeper into my father’s life. Like you, he lives in a rarefied world where I can’t belong.”
* * *
Antonio stared at Liliana and again felt everything spinning even further out of his control.
He’d orchestrated that lunch to give her a taste of what it would be like to be with a man of his caliber. Though his money and power had no effect on her when her research hung in the balance, he’d thought when she was made their beneficiary on a personal level, it would be different.
But the more he immersed her in its benefits, the more repulsed she was by the evidence of his status. She’d made sideway remarks through the past hours, but now she’d come right out and said it. Being in such surroundings, getting the treatment only limitless wealth bought, disturbed, not dazzled, her.
Taking another sip of cappuccino, she shrugged. “To each his own, of course, but I don’t see why you need to exercise your power in such ways.”
He gritted his teeth on another unknown sensation. Chagrin. “Maybe I was trying to impress you.”
A not-too-delicate snort made her put down her cup before she spilled its contents. “You thought this would impress me? Have you met me?” She sat forward, her eyes wide and earnest. “You know what really impresses me? It’s that if you were stripped of all your financial assets right this second, with that brain of yours, filled with all your knowledge and experience, with those hands that perform miracles on a regular basis, your worth wouldn’t be affected. Anything you lost, you’d re-create, bigger and better, because luck and circumstances played no role when you first created it. So no, this—” she swept a hand around “—doesn’t impress me. If anything, all this glitter and bustle doesn’t become you, actually taints your true value. Without any of those trappings, it’s you on your own, your gifts and abilities, that’s invaluable.”
