Resisting The Sicilian Playboy. Amanda Cinelli
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my choice of occupation.’
‘And what does my choice of occupation say about me, I wonder?’
She twisted her lips. ‘I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to say.’
‘You know, not very many women can make me feel as if I’m under scrutiny. And yet it’s as though everything I say or do offends you.’
‘I’m not offended by you. I’m quite aware of the fact that your impulses are the only reason I’m sitting here.’ She shrugged.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that’s the only reason...’ He let his voice deepen slightly as he leaned forward and met her eyes. Dark blonde eyelashes lowered for one split second and her pupils dilated, leaving only a rim of steel grey around them.
That one reflex was enough to tell him what he’d come here to find out. No matter how indifferent she claimed to be, she most definitely was not unaffected by this intense chemistry between them.
‘You are here because I want you to be. I always get what I want.’
He smiled as her eyes darkened even more, but this time in anger. Oh, yes, she was just what he needed to break his little spell of restlessness. He would break down each of those polite little barriers one by one, until she couldn’t think straight any more.
She responded by throwing him her most polite smile. ‘I understand that you’re a powerful man, Leo, and that you grew up in a certain way. But sooner or later you will find that not everyone bends to your will. No matter how much you push.’
He ignored her comment about his privileged past. He was used to people’s ignorant presumptions. He most definitely had grown up a certain way—but not the way most people would expect.
He leaned across the table, raising one brow in challenge. ‘Are you sure about that? I’ve been known to be quite persuasive.’
‘Well, there’s something we have in common.’ She smiled, and for a second he caught a glimpse of the fire buried underneath all that ice. He was enjoying sitting here with her, enjoying their sparring. She was nothing like any woman who had sparked his interest before.
She stood up as the waiter approached with their items from the cloakroom. ‘I came here with one goal, Leo. And I never find myself off track—no matter how distracting the scenery.’
‘I would expect nothing less.’ He nodded in agreement.
She paused. ‘Good. Because I won’t be playing any more of your games. I’m a professional, and I like to get things done quickly.’
‘As do I, Dara,’ he purred.
Always the gentleman, he held out her coat, helping her to fit it comfortably around her shoulders. One errant finger lightly grazed the sensitive skin of her neck and he felt her shiver in response. Smiling, he eased back as she turned to face him.
‘Allora, I think we understand each other,’ he said, shrugging on his own coat quickly.
She continued to watch him with a mixture of accusation and reluctant awareness as they made their way outside into the chilly autumn afternoon. He stopped when his chauffeur approached them, opening the door of the limo with polite efficiency.
‘My driver will take you to the club. My team will be at your command.’
Leo fought the urge to slide in beside her on the seat. She felt every ounce of this tension between them—he had seen it in her eyes. She wanted him, but she wouldn’t let herself have what she wanted. That was a lesson that only came after prolonged temptation. He would show her just what it meant to lose control—but first he’d have to take her out of that comfort zone of hers.
DARA STOOD ON the lower floor of the club and made a final sweep of her surroundings. Leo’s team had been very responsive to her advice—in fact they’d seemed almost relieved to have the responsibility taken from their shoulders. None of them had seemed particularly overjoyed to be planning such a high-profile event. Maybe Leo was right: they were jaded by success and lacked any motivation to strive further.
Well, that suited her just fine. Being in close proximity to such high-profile guests was a networking dream come true. She would make a few new contacts, get her own event contract signed, and then fly straight home to set about planning the wedding of her career. Finally her strict business plan was yielding the kind of results she had dreamed of when she’d left her life in Dublin behind.
Unconsciously she chewed on her bottom lip, trying to supress the memories that her mind conjured up every time she thought of her past life. The well-meaning glances filled with pity...the hushed conversations. She would forever be known as poor Dara Devlin back home—it had been the main reason she left it all behind. It would have been impossible to forge a new life in a place filled with such painful memories.
She remembered sitting in the hospital, her dream of ever having a child having just been taken away from her. Only to find herself watching her fiancé coldly walk away from her for the last time.
No. She shook off the thoughts before they could take hold. She had done enough wallowing in the weeks before she had decided to move to Italy. Her life was good now. She should thank Daniel, really. He had set her free to focus on what she really loved. Her career gave her more satisfaction than family life ever could have. She was happy now—she truly was—and now she had the chance to really make a name for herself.
Portia Palmer was the biggest movie star Ireland had produced in the past ten years, and she had chosen Dara to plan her huge weekend wedding. She liked to think that the actress had somehow heard a glowing report from one of her happy clients. But sadly it most likely had more to do with Dara being the only Irish planner on the island. Miss Palmer was all about patriotism and her Celtic heritage.
But that was fine with Dara. Publicity was publicity, and if she hoped for her name to gain status it couldn’t hurt to have a world-famous Hollywood star in her little black book.
Now, after seeing tonight’s guest list, she felt butterflies flapping around in her stomach with nerves and anticipation. Leo hadn’t been lying when he’d said he had high-profile guests. One quick flip through the hostess’s list had revealed several notable European politicians, at least three racing drivers, a world-renowned fashion designer and the entire cast of the Luscious Lingerie catalogue. People like that could open more than doors for her in her career. They could knock down walls.
The snooty hostess from the night before suddenly appeared by her side. Dara closed the list with a snap, trying not to look guilty.
‘Signor Valente has instructed me to give you this.’ The woman sniffed, holding out a small business card. She seemed quite unimpressed to be running such lowly errands for her employer.
Dara took the card with muttered thanks. It was plain black, with the single line of an address printed on the front. Nothing to indicate what kind of business it was.
‘Am I supposed to go there?’ she asked quickly as the hostess began to walk away. ‘Did he not tell you anything else?’
The woman turned back and shrugged one shoulder, thoroughly bored with the conversation. ‘I am told to give you this and make sure you go to the address.’
The event was less than two hours away, so Dara wasted no time in grabbing her things and taking the sleek chauffeur-driven town car that Leo had provided. Whatever this errand was, she needed to get back to her hotel soon if she stood a chance of looking half decent.
The car came to a smooth stop on one of the most upmarket streets in Milan. Giants of Italian fashion stood shoulder to shoulder here, with shopfronts that screamed luxury. But the address on the black card led her down a narrow alleyway to a door of exactly the same deep, nondescript black.
Her hand was hovering uncertainly