Biting my lip, I tentatively pull out a flowy mini dress with thin spaghetti straps and lay it across the bed.My mom is probably the most naturally alluring woman I’ve ever known.A head-turner.A showstopper.She attracts and entices without effort.And my father worships the ground she walks on.
I’ve envied her confidence, her magnetism.Wondered what it’s like to have that…thing.Thatthingthat makes men salivate.To walk into a room and make them pause mid-breath.To have a glow so dazzling it forces others to shrink back.
But earlier, when Stefano Castello looked at me…touched me…held me fully under his focus and told me he was addicted, it made me feel like I have athingof my own.A glow of my own.
Foolish, I know.Especially since he’s as smooth a liar as I am.
Still, sweet lies or not, they’ve left me with enough confidence towantto put this dress on.
To feel sexy.
Forhim.
Fighting back a smile, I head into the bathroom and find a luxury spa basket with my name on it, packed with toiletries.
Oh, this abduction wasn’t spontaneous.Heplannedit.Quite confidently.And timed it perfectly with his irascible brother conveniently out of town for the weekend.
Why, though?And why here?What on earth is he up to?
I take a long shower and wash my hair, then work in some mousse from the spa kit to keep it wavy.After moisturizing and getting dressed, I head downstairs.
Stefano’s in the living room, on the phone, his tone sharp and irritable as he rips into someone for being “incompetent.”
Yeah…better to avoid him for now.I slip out back instead.
Across the sprawling yard sits a beautiful guest house.On the porch swing, a middle-aged couple lounges with coffee mugs in hand, watching the torrential downpour of rain.From what I know, the Grenadian family of four—they have two sons—lives there in exchange for maintaining the house and property.
I tilt my head up at the darkened sky.It looks enraged, blasting down tears of fury.Someone’s clearly pissed off up there.
After a few long breaths of this much-needed, much-appreciated rain, I head back inside and make my way to the kitchen.
The pantry is fully stocked, the fridge overflowing.Several neatly stacked containers sit waiting on the marble island.I pop the lid on one and smile appreciatively at the delectable assortment of homemade pastries that greet me.This has Cora written all over it.
I’m polishing off a mascarpone puff pastry when Stefano strides into the kitchen.Despite all the growling he was doing on the phone minutes ago, he’s wearing a small smile now, an unusual brightness in his eyes.
“Figured I’d find you in here,” he says.“Just follow the food.”
He’s changed into black lounge pants and house loafers, but his bare chest and distractingly perfect Adonis belt are still very much on display.
I dust the corners of my mouth and finish chewing before speaking.“A rack of clothes, a basket of toiletries, containers of food… How long do you plan on keeping me here?”
He picks a pastry from the container.“Just for the weekend.”
“Lorenzo wants me to check in with him every hour—”
“Don’t tell him you’re here.”
That makes me hike a brow at him.“Is there something going on that I should know about?”
“You’re good at lying, yeah?”His tone is casual, conversational, not accusing.“Do that when you check in.”
His gaze roams across my face, slow and deliberate, glinting with something I can’t quite name.“Want to feel something?”
Huh?“What?”
He moves the breakfast stool that’s separating us.“What happens when I look at you.”
“I don’t under—”
