Chapter 1
Mia
Staring into my Tom Collins, I mix the slightly yellow liquid around with my straw and let out a sigh. The loud sound of laughter breaks me from my thoughts and has me turning my head in its direction.
Great! Frat boys and their frat boy ways. The very last thing I wanted to encounter tonight.
Rolling my eyes, I pick up my drink and swivel around in the opposite direction of the group of irritating,but damn it if I hate to admit, very good-looking Italian boys to my left.
Whatever they are going on and on about in their native tongue can’t be any good, as the one language that does bypass all barriers is the laughter of boys being boys - instead of the men they should be acting like instead.
“Cia bellezza, posso offrirti da bere?”I hear someone say next to me. Entirely believing they are speaking to someone else, I pay no attention and take another sip of my now slightly warm night cap in this tiny hotel bar and wonder why I ever left my room in the first place.
But the man at my left continues.“Se non vuoi bere, posso darti qualco’altro per bagnarti I appetito?”
This time, I can’t help but turn to see just who this individual is speaking to and I am shocked to find him staring back into my eyes intent on me answering his last two questions.
“Excuse me?” I ask, dumbfounded and slightly disturbed that he would continue pestering a woman who obviously doesn’t seem like she wants to be bothered at all. I look past him and see his frat friends staring at the two of us and smiling.
The Rat Pack, no doubt, but as my irritation grows, I find my eyes focus on the group more diligently for the first time tonight and suddenly realize they are not as young as I thought. Closer to my age in fact, and possibly even a little older. Someone in the back quickly catches my attention as our eyes lock and all the breath in my body leaves me.
Dirty blond hair, dark blue eyes, tall, a gorgeous smile and dressed to kill.Must be gay.There is no way a man like that could walk this earth and be straight. Not anymore at least.
He gives me a sheepish look, that totally throws me and doesn’t fit his demeanor at all, and then turns his attention back to the man at my side. The man who is still standing too close and wanting me to answer him when I have no clue in hell what he is saying.
A stern glare graces the gorgeous man’s features and I wonder just what he might be thinking. If they are friends, then why the hateful look? Maybe they are lovers and I am the brunt of their joke. Regardless, there is a whole lot about this country I haven’t got the first clue about.
The man at my side speaks again.“Ah, un americano….”and then proceeds to continue in his native tongue, making me lost and my anger skyrocket.
That does it, I set down my glass and straighten my stance just as I see his drop-dead gorgeous friend start to make his way over from behind his fellow laughing idiots. He starts stalking towards us and God, just his mere presence takes my breath away. I stop what I am doing and forget my train of thought as I watch all six-foot-five of him come closer.
His fit upper body strains his nice dress shirt. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. His once tied tie hangs loose around his neck and I watch as he shoves his large hands in his pockets and looks towards the floor as he comes up behind his friend.
“Is this gentleman bothering you, Miss?” He says in his sexy as hell Italian accent.
I came here not wanting attention. I only wanted one drink, maybe two, to wipe away the sting of everything that still haunts me. I planned to wallow in my loneliness without any distractions. That is, until sexy, tall, brooding, muscles for days Italian dream just knocked me off my feet leaving me no free breath to take in order to try and formulate a coherent response.
My mouth hangs open and I suddenly realize how stupid I must look. Shaking my head, I finally close my gaping mouth and wide eyes. When I open them, they lock with his dark slate blue ones and I realize I am screwed as the feeling inside to be closer to him suddenly begins to overtake me.
“No, I uh….” He stares at me for a beat before flashing me a panty dropping grin which does only one thing, make my insides quake uncontrollably with the need to know more about the gorgeous stranger. “I mean, yes! But nothing I can’t handle.” I say, finally finding my voice before silently kicking myself because I know I just gave him an excuse to walk away, and hell if I want him to take it. At least not yet, that is.
He turns to his friend and says something in Italian. The prick from earlier gets irritated and starts to fight back. Voices raise and the wannabe frat boy throws his hands up in the air. I back up slightly at the flying gesture and bump my hip against the bar top. Without breaking composure, the gorgeous stranger reaches out and steadies me in my heels, flashing me a heart throbbing smile, before he goes back to his conversation without any hesitation.
I can’t help but notice he doesn’t pull his hand away from my side and butterflies dance in my belly as his touch warms my skin. His friend’s eyes glance at where he holds me, and I can’t deny that if it was his friend’s hands on me, I wouldn’t have let them stay this long. But there is something about the way this man holds me. Something about the feel of his skin on mine that makes me stay connected with him, if only for a few moments longer.
Eventually, guy number one gets the hint and backs off. But not before yelling something in Italian that makes the man holding my side laugh before turning and looking at me. His friend has now made his way back to their group and I am left alone with an Italian God that looks like he was perfectly carved out just for me.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, as he comes a step closer and brushes up against me, his hand still firmly placed on my hip in a dominating, possessive way, that would make me slap him if he were anyone else. But as it is, I long for them to roam, caress my every curve, and take me places I have never been before.
I find myself falling into him and not wanting to come back as I look in his eyes and get lost in their beautiful blue hue. He brushes my golden hair over my shoulder and traces his fingertips down my arm slowly. My skin prickles from the sensation and I close my eyes needing to try and find a way to turn off how this man is making me feel.
Possessed with a desire all to foreign to me, but heaven help me one I know I need and want to explore.
Opening my eyes finally, I stare back at him and smile. “I don’t even know your name. Why would I let you buy me a drink?” I say, trying to find my only last hope in not letting any part of my heart get involved when my head knows better.
He grins. “Leonardo.”
My heart swells and quickens suddenly at his response. The sexy man also has a sexy Italian name. Well fuck me, I am a goner. He takes a step closer until he is caging me, he reluctantly releases his grip on my hip and places both of his large hands on either side of me, resting them on the bar top. I glance to my right momentarily and almost groan at how large, how massive, how fucking sexy his hand looks next to me before catching the glimmer of his cufflink in the light.
