Seduced by the Italian Tycoon: From the first moment they met, she was powerless to resist him

by Clare Connelly

  “No, idiot. It’s European Universal. E.U. What else would it stand for?”

  Now Emily did have to cover her smile with a small clearing of her throat. “Prawn toast?” She asked sweetly, not quite able to meet the eyes of the very young, very glamorous woman espousing her rather wrong understanding of foreign policy.

  Emily weaved her way back to the kitchen and replaced the tray. “How you going, kiddo?” The French chef asked, smiling for the first time all evening.

  “Fine,” she said with a shrug. And she was. It was certainly not as horrifying as she’d imagined it might be, in any event.

  “Good. They’re happy? With the food?”

  “Oh, yes, absolutely..”

  “Good.” He winked at her and loaded up another tray. “Crab cakes now with a spring onion dip.”

  “Oh, yum, they smell so good.”

  “You want to try one?”

  Emily shook her head. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop at just one. Now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure when she’d last eaten. She’d been busy all day, run off her feet in fact. She’d only had an hour at home to get ready for work, and that hadn’t included dinner.

  “Go on, I won’t tell.”

  She grinned. “I don’t want to get green stuff in my teeth.”

  “Okay,” he pulled a small plastic box off the top of the bench. “I’ll save you some things for afterwards.”

  “Oh,” Emily’s cheeks flushed pink. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s no trouble.” He insisted. “We always make more than they need.”

  She bit down on her lip. “If you’re sure…”

  “Of course.”

  Emboldened by the chef’s kindness, she lingered a moment. “What is this party for, anyway?”

  “It’s a charity fundraiser for the children’s hospital in Kensington.”

  “Really?” Emily’s expression showed her surprise.

  “It doesn’t seem like it?”

  Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “Not really.”

  “What does it seem like?”

  “A lot of very attractive, expensive people talking about nothing.”

  The chef laughed. “You don’t approve.”

  “Oh, no, no.” She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “It cost four hundred quid just to get in the door.”

  Emily almost dropped the tray. “Four hundred … pounds?”

  The chef laughed. “Hardly even small change to this group.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She thought of the bill in her handbag. It was only a fraction of that amount and she was going to lose sleep over how to pay it. How the other half lived, she thought with a small frown. “I’d better take these out.”

  “We’ll be pausing service soon. There’s a speech and then we’ll switch to dessert.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. “Thanks for making this so easy for me.”

  “You’re a natural.”

  She looked down at the delicious crab cakes and was suddenly glad that the chef had put some aside for her. They did look delicious. She gravitated to a couple first, and then on to another group. A very tall, reed thin blonde woman was at the centre. She had lips that looked surgically enhanced and a body to die for. There was another woman beside her, and then a man with glasses and a pale pink tie. Emily’s eyes drifted past him, to the fourth man in the group, and she had to suck in a deep breath to stop from visibly reacting.

  Because the fourth member of their ensemble was the most handsome man she’d ever seen in real life. Or on the screen.

  He was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in the flesh. Like a movie star come to life, but so much better.

  A beautiful dark grey suit hugged his muscular frame - all six and a half foot of it. His skin was dark brown. His cheekbones were slashed out of stone, and his eyes glimmered like black diamonds in his face. His lips were wide, his mouth intelligently curved. His chin, square and strong, had a brush of stubble across it.

  Emily had never been in love. She’d never even kissed a boy, unless you counted the incredibly inept experimenting she and a friend had engaged in during her sixteenth birthday party. She’d never been in love, but Emily had read a lot of books on the subject, and she was pretty darn sure that the way her heart was hammering in her chest had something to do with love at first sight.

  The very idea made her blood simmer and her cheeks heat unbearably. Her big blue eyes didn’t dare meet his. She focussed instead on the blonde in the centre of the group. “Crab cake?” She murmured quietly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the very beautiful man as possible.

  “Are they paleo?” The slim blonde enquired, as though anything else would be an offense.

  Emily shook her head. “Paleo?” She frowned. What the heck was paleo?

  “Yes. Pay-Lee-Oh.” The woman’s tone was scathing, and she tilted her beautiful face at the handsome man with a look of sarcastic derision.

  “I’m sorry, I’m not …” Mortified, Emily shook her head. “I don’t know. I can find out for you.”

  “Forget about it.” The blonde turned to her attention to another friend. “What kind of person doesn’t know about paleo?”

  What kind of person indeed, Sabato thought, a spark of curiosity driving him to look more closely at this woman. She was small and slight, with shining auburn hair, bright blue eyes and a perfect rose bud mouth.

  Definitely not his usual type.

  Definitely fascinating.

  Emily stood on the fringe of the group for a second and then realised she’d been dismissed. She moved to turn away when he stalled her. “I’ll have one.” He shifted his body, turning his back to the group, effectively blocking Emily off from the rest of the room.

  Up close, she could see so much more detail in his face. He wasn’t just big and muscular, he was warrior-like. Strong and powerful looking. He smelled of the ocean. Salty and masculine, warm and intense. He was sending her into awareness overdrive; every fibre of her being was pulsating at a strange frequency.

  She lifted the tray a little higher, holding it almost as a barrier between them.

  Sabato stared at the woman long and hard. Surrounded by actresses, models and heiresses, this waitress was singularly unique. It wasn’t just her looks, though she was very pretty. A true English Rose, with her shining hair, fair skin and oceanic blue eyes. Even her lips were a testament to that fragrant bloom, being soft and pink, with a natural fullness to them. His eyes held hers, and he felt something click inside of his chest. Desire, unmistakable, warmed his blood. Not just the hint of attraction, but a full-blown need that he knew himself to be incapable of ignoring.

  “Are they good?” He asked, his voice deep and accented.

  He had a cleft in his chin, as though an angel had pressed a thumb to it at the moment of his birth. He had a dimple too, concealed beneath his stubble, but Emily had seen it when he’d smiled earlier. It wasn’t fair that one man should have so many things in his favour. Tall, handsome, mysterious … he was, quite simply, extraordinary. “Good?” She was smiling at him. She could feel her mouth arching upwards, and she didn’t seem able to stop.

  He grinned back, and nodded towards the platter. “The crab cakes.”

  “Oh!” She blinked, her blue eyes like saucers in her face. “I’m sure they’re delicious.” She seemed to remember herself. To recognise that she was at work, and that he was a guest. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards a little. Just far enough to put some crucial distance between them.

  If the man noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. He stayed exactly where he was. “Well then, if you are sure.” Oh, that accent. Like something out of a dream, so deep and husky; it sent spirals of wonder through her body and soul.

  He reached forward and lifted a small savoury from the platter. He didn’t eat it though. His eyes seemed to be searching hers, as if looking for something that he didn’t immediately understand.

&n
bsp; Emily’s stomach churned. What was she doing? Standing there, staring at the most handsome man she’d ever seen, just because he was filling her very inexperienced mind with all sorts of fantasies? She shook her head, to try to clear them away, and smiled tightly. “Excuse me.”

  “And if I won’t?” He murmured darkly, wanting to warm her cheeks and bring the fire back into her eyes.

  “I’m sorry?” She scanned his face, her heart thumping in her chest.

  “If I won’t excuse you?”

  Emily pulled her fleshy lower lip between her teeth. A small line formed between her eyebrows, and out of nowhere, she wondered if hers were too thick, or too thin. She’d never paid much attention to them – except to pluck an errant hair from time to time. “Then you’ll have to keep eating fish cakes,” she pointed out, lifting the tray a little higher.

  “What is your name?” His eyes dropped to her apron, and Emily’s heart turned over at the direction of his gaze. He was looking at the name embroidered on the material, but it was so close to the gentle swell of her chest that she felt her stomach roll. “ Agnes.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to correct him when something stilled her. It was a surreal moment. A fairy tale moment happening to someone else. Of all the women in the room, this handsome man was speaking to her. Flirting with her. But why?

  A frown puckered at her lips again, and Emily’s mouth momentarily forgot that she was generally shy and reserved. “Do you make a habit of hitting on waitresses?”

  It was so absurd that Sabato laughed. The rich, husky sound drew Emily’s focus back to his face. “No.”

  She swallowed, chastened, and looked nervously towards the kitchen. “I should be getting back …”

  Sabato had been hunting once in his life. He had deplored it. A man drawn to power in life had been revolted by exerting such dominance over weak beasts. Of preying on them from afar, and felling them with a far superior weapon than his own strength alone. Talking to this woman brought those sensations flooding back. Her inexperience was obvious, and yet he was exerting every skill at his disposal to keep her with him. Perhaps then, it was she who wielded the power, for he found himself unable to ignore the churn of desire she invoked.

  “If I promise to eat every last thing on that tray, will you come with me?”

  “Come with you?”

  He leaned closer, and she caught a hint of his cologne. Her pulse raced; her veins were a torrent of raging lava. Closer still, until his lips were almost touching her cheek. “Yes.”

  Emily stepped backwards, her eyes flitting around the room. “Please, don’t do that. You’ll get me in trouble.”

  His laugh sent shivers of warmth down her spine.

  “What’s funny about that? I don’t want to get fired!”

  He appeared to sober, but there was still a mocking spark in his eyes. “I won’t let that happen.”

  Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “All the same, I’d better get back to work.”

  “Keeping guests happy is your job, is it not? So consider yourself working.”

  Emily felt as though she was caught in this man’s magnetic force. He was the sun and she was a tiny little planet, simply rotating about him. Her head was spinning and her toes were tingling.

  Sabato took advantage of her brief hesitation and put a hand lightly against the small of her back. At the instant of contact, something hot seared along his arm, all the way to his gut. He compressed his lips.

  Yes, he was hunting all right, but the stakes were so much higher than tracking a boar across his father’s Tuscan property.

  “Where are we going?” Emily seemed to remember herself when they were at the fringe of the room.

  Sabato didn’t reply. He didn’t want to say anything that might cause her to take fright. He pushed a door onto the balcony open, holding it for her with a growing sense of impatience.

  Emily sucked in a deep breath and took a step outside. The night was warm, the sky glowing with the hues of dusk. “It’s as though a toddler has created the palette,” she murmured, staring at the oranges and pinks with the same sense of wonderment that the bookends of the day always seemed to inspire in her.

  “Excuse me?” Sabato queried, easing the glass door closed and leading her a little way down the length of the area. Away from the party. Away from prying eyes. His English was excellent, but he couldn’t be sure he’d understood what she’d said, for it made little sense to a man such as him.

  Emily spun around, positioning the tray between them. “The colours. They’re so beautiful. So harmonious. The most beautiful gradient in the world; wouldn’t you agree?”

  Sabato ignored the food. His eyes lifted to the view beyond them. “How fortunate to enjoy something you get to see every day.”

  “Twice a day sometimes,” she agreed with a small smile. “Dawn is just as stunning.”

  Sabato raised his brows. “Do you make a habit of being up early enough to appreciate it?”

  Her eyes lifted to his and she felt as though she’d taken a step off the edge of the balcony. She was free falling. “Not a habit. An effort.”

  He looked at her enquiringly, waiting for her to expand.

  “I always see the day start. Mind you, that’s easier in winter.”

  Fascinating. “Why?”

  Emily expelled a slow breath. “The sun rises later.” She swallowed. “I should go back in.”

  He couldn’t help it. The hunt, so pleasurable, so captivating… He ran his finger down her cheek, pausing just at the edge of her delectable pink lips. “Should you?”

  Emily’s body was quivering. His touch was both innocent and incendiary. She stepped a little to the side, just far enough to break the contact. “What are you doing?” She asked quietly, unable to meet his eyes.

  “I should have thought that would be quite obvious. Am I not being clear?” His eyes raked her face, devouring her with concentration. “I want you.”

  Is that what this was? The way her whole body felt ready to burst into flames and her breath was burning in her chest. “No, you don’t.” Her denial was soft and unconvincing.

  Sabato laughed, and this time it was a low, quiet rumble, that came from deep in his chest. “Do you think not?”

  “No.” Her tongue darted out and traced the outline of her lips. “I don’t know why you’re saying it, but it can’t be true.”

  Sabato lifted his hands and took the platter from her. She was so confused by the things he was saying, and the way her body was responding, that she let him. “Tell me, cara, why would I lie to you?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice just a throaty husk. “But I know that someone like you doesn’t look at someone like me.”

  “Someone like you?” He murmured, placing the tray on a nearby table without moving away from her. “Someone beautiful and sweet and interesting and enigmatic? You do not think that is a lethal combination?”

  “No.” she couldn’t let his words sink in. They didn’t make any sense. “Look at you. And look at the women in there!” She shook her head slowly. “I’m nothing like them.”

  “Precisely.” His smile was slow and darkly dangerous. “I have been watching you all night.”

  “You haven’t,” she denied on instinct, but her stomach was in knots and her body was leaning closer to his, driven by an ancient instinct she was powerless to deny.

  “Yes. All night. I have seen the way your lips,” and he lifted a finger and traced their fullness now, “curl with disdain as you listen to the vapid mutterings of these women. I have seen the way men stare at you, and you seem not to notice. The way you glide across the floor as though you are a ballerina and this is your stage. I have seen, and I have watched, and I have waited and I have wanted.”

  Emily’s heart turned over in her chest. He smelled so good; strong and masculine, clean and edible. “I’m at work.” Her voice was thick. “I have to get back inside.” She didn’t want to go anywhere. Her feet were digging
roots into the ground.

  Sabato’s eyes narrowed. “Will you meet me later?”

  His meaning was unmistakable and it was enough to pierce the fog of sensual confusion that was wrapping around her. She shook her head, nervousness and coyness making her drop her gaze from his. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Don’t you?” His tone was mocking. Teasing. He understood her desire and he wasn’t letting her ignore it.

  “I’m not … what you seem to think.”

  “And what do I think you are?” Sabato prompted, pressing his body forward, so that they were separated by only a hint of the balmy evening air.

  Emily swallowed; her throat was lined with sandpaper and her blood was gushing through her veins so loudly she could hear it drumming in her ears. Honesty was Emily’s first instinct in any situation; she employed it now. “That I’m someone who could handle you.” She bit down on her lower lip and her teeth gleaned in the moonlight. “That I’m someone who maybe makes a habit of doing what you’re, um, suggesting.”

  He laughed, her innocence sweetly endearing and terrifyingly sexy. “Believe me, if I thought that, you have done an excellent job of showing me otherwise.”

  “Meaning what, exactly? That I’m unsophisticated?”

  “Yes.” His eyes flared. “Precisely. And it only makes me want you more.”

  “You must stop saying that,” Emily groaned, lifting her hands to his chest to put some space between them. But his heart was beating beneath her palms now, and his skin was warm through the fabric of his shirt. “Please.”

  “Please?” He teased in his deep voice. “Music to my ears.” And wilfully misunderstanding her, he lowered his head, intending only to brush his lips against hers. But the moment his mouth connected, she parted her lips and moaned, her fingers curled into his shirt and she pressed her hips forward, so that she was intimately connected with his arousal.

  He deepened the kiss, lost to the magic of the moment they were creating; self control be damned, he wanted her in a way that was hauntingly unique. His tongue invaded her soft warmth, and his hands curved around her back. His legs were powerful on either side of her.