His Ultimate Demand

‘You’re welcome,’ he replied coolly. ‘Now am I allowed to respond to that diatribe?’

‘No. I have to check on the chicken parmagiana. The last thing I want to do is jeopardise my chances by serving you burnt food.’ She rounded the bar and walked past him.

He grasped her wrist, easily imprisoning her.

Instantly, heat and electricity flooded through her. ‘Let me go!’

‘I haven’t been blowing hot and cold.’

‘You’ve certainly made avoiding me an art form.’

‘I was trying to save us both from making a mistake, tesoro.’

The realisation that she didn’t want that choice made for her sent a bolt of shock through her. Sheer self-preservation made her raise her chin. ‘Well, you needn’t have bothered. In fact you did me a favour back on your plane.’

His hand tightened. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. You reminded me that you’re not my type.’

His nostrils flared. ‘And how would you know what your type is considering your lack of experience?’

‘I don’t need experience to know playboys turn me off.’

His mouth flattened. ‘You didn’t seem turned off when you climaxed on top of me, then proceeded to writhe beneath me.’

The reminder made her pulse skitter. The hungry demand that hadn’t abated since then made her pull harder. He set her free and she retreated fast. ‘Maybe I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Whatever. You helped me refocus on the reason I’m here on your boat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on the main course.’

* * *

Narciso watched her go, furious that he’d allowed himself to be drawn into her orbit again.

The way he’d operated the last two days had been the best course.

So what if he’d climbed metaphoric walls while locked in his study? He’d sealed two deals and added to his billions, and he’d even managed to stop thinking about Ruby Trevelli for longer than five minutes.

But then his investigator had presented him with another opportunity to finish off Giacomo. And once again, Narciso had walked away, unable to halt the chain reaction inside that seemed to be scraping raw emotions he’d long ago suppressed; unable to stop his world hurtling towards a place he didn’t recognise.

That his first thought had been to seek out Ruby and share his confusion had propelled him in the opposite direction.

His reaction to her continued to baffle him. In the last two days, he’d expended serious brainpower talking himself out of tracking down the woman who kissed like a seductress but whose innocence his conscience battled with him against tainting.

Dio, when the hell had he even grown a conscience?

With a growl, he grabbed the last of the canapés and munched on it. Delicate flavours exploded on his tongue.

The past two days had shown him how talented Ruby was in the kitchen and behind the bar. Her skill was faultless and she’d risen to his every challenge. In that time, while he’d locked himself in his study to resist temptation, he’d also reviewed the TV show footage and seen why she’d won the contest.

Her skittishness every time the camera had focused on her had also been made apparent.

She hated being under the spotlight. And yet she’d forced herself to do it, just so she could take control of her life.

His admiration for her had grown as he’d watched the footage even as he’d cursed at the knowledge that she was burrowing deeper under his skin.

He looked up as she entered, a silver-topped casserole dish in her hand. The flourish and expertise with which she set the dish down spoke of her pride in her work. He waited until she served them both before he took the first bite.

His hand tightened around his fork. ‘Did you cook this for Simon?’

She visibly deflated. ‘You don’t like it.’

He didn’t just like it. He loved it. So much so he was suddenly jealous of her sharing it with anyone else. ‘I didn’t say that. Did you cook it for him?’

Slowly, she shook her head.

Relief poured through him. ‘Good.’

‘So, you like it?’ she asked again.

‘Sì, very much,’ he responded, his voice gruff.

The pleasure that lit up her face made his heart squeeze. He wanted to keep staring at her, bathe in her delight.

Dio, he was losing it.

He reached for the bottle to pour her a glass of chilled Chablis.

‘No, thanks,’ she said.

His hand tightened around the bottle. ‘You have nothing to fear by drinking around me, Ruby.’

She raised her head and he saw a mixture of anguish and sadness displayed in her eyes. In that moment, Narciso wanted to hunt down the parents who’d done this to her and deliver unforgettable punishment.

‘I know, but I’d like to keep a clear head, all the same.’

He set the wine aside and reached for the mineral water. ‘Well, getting blind drunk on my own is no fun, so I guess we’re teetotalling.’

She rolled her eyes and smiled, and his gut clenched hard.

‘We haven’t discussed wines yet. When we’re done meet me at the upper deck. And wear a swimsuit. The sun may have gone down but you’ll still boil out there in that dress.’

The tension in his body eased when she nodded.

After dinner, he made his way up to the deck. They could do this... They could have a conversation despite the spiked awareness of each other. Or the hunger that burned relentlessly through him—

Five minutes later, she mounted the stairs to the deck and his thoughts scattered.

Madre di Dio!

The body he could see beneath the sarong was spectacular. But he couldn’t see enough of it. And he wanted to, despite the off limits signs he’d mentally slapped on her.