Seducing the Italian Tycoon - MK Meredith - E-Book

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MK Meredith

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Beschreibung

International tycoon Drago De Luca is successful and sexy—and he knows it. But all the success in the world isn't going to save his beloved grandmother’s family inn. Without drastic measures, the savvy American heiress, Chase Huntington, and her new hotel will close his Nonna's inn for good. So, Drago convinces Chase she needs his help. What better way to make sure she leaves than to orchestrate it himself? But the time with Chase draws him to her passion, her love of his culture, and the way she looks in those Louis Vuitton heels.


Chase Huntington is determined to prove her worth as more than just an heiress by making sure the new Huntington hotel opens successfully. And her tall, dark, and very Italian new friend, Drago DeLuca just might be her ticket. But somewhere between falling for Drago's incredible Nonna, she falls head over Louis Vuitton for Drago and his magical city. She's finally found home. But when Drago’s true motive for spending so much time with her comes to light, it destroys everything she’s found in Ferrara. 

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Seitenzahl: 305

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

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Seducing the Italian Tycoon

International Temptation Series

MK Meredith

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2018 by MK Meredith. All rights reserved,

including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

MK Meredith

P.O. Box 1724

Ashburn, VA 20146

Visit my website at www.mkmeredith.com.

Edited by Kate Brauning

Cover design by Kari March Designs

ISBN: 978-1-7358869-1-6

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition August 2018

Praise for Seducing Italian Tycoon

“Seducing the Italian Tycoon was the book that made me order in pizza and ignore the laundry.”

~ USA Today Bestselling Author Robin Covington

“A scorching hot read you don't want to miss!”

~ Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

“Seducing The Tycoon was a sexy, fun, swoonworthy story. I am very excited to see what MK Meredith writes next.”

~ JoJo the Bookaholic

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Also by MK Meredith

Introduction

Hello!

I am so thrilled to share my happy ever afters with you, and I hope you love this book! If you haven’t yet, enjoy your introduction to the wonderful town of Cape Van Buren with One Jingle or TwoFREE on all retailers. Once you fall in love with Alora and Nate (they’re irresistible, LOL!), you won’t want to leave.

Which makes me so excited to also offer you the opportunity to meet Blayne and Jamie! Just sign up to my mailing list at the end of this book, and I’ll send Honor on the Cape to your email for download to your favorite reading device!

BTW . . . all of my series are inter-connected.

Hugs, loves, & peanut butter!

MK

To my big brothers, Tommy, Todd, and Billy Kauffman.

I would have never made it without you.

Our little team was my one constant growing up. I’m forever grateful.

LYMTYLM…NN

Chapter 1

Chase Huntington smoothed her hands over her Herve Leger bandage dress, taking her time to admire the tasty morsel leaning against a light pole at the end of the cobblestoned block. Perfect. He was exactly what she needed to make this business trip fun: a hot, sex-on-a-stick Italian who looked like he knew how to handle his biscotti.

He glanced up, interest in his eyes, and she held his gaze as her body acknowledged him in a wash of goose bumps. He was taller than many of the Italian men she’d seen, and her glance ran the length of him to check his shoe size. It couldn’t be helped. And she wasn’t disappointed.

Her cell buzzed, and she broke away from the visual temptation, swiping the screen and accepting the call. “Hello, Mr. Huntington.”

Her cheeky tone drew a laugh from her father, making her grin.

“So far, so good?” he asked.

“Of course. I’m about to head in. Though, by the way, I still haven’t been able to get ahold of the director.”

As her father grumbled about reliability and work ethic, a woman brushed past and Chase smiled in apology. The lady dipped her head in return, sophisticated and graceful, just like Ferrara itself. These beautiful people were right up her alley. If she couldn’t be back in Malibu finally starting her life like she wanted, she might as well live it up while she was here. A plan her best friend Addi would pop a cork for, then share the bottle to the last drop for—as a best friend should.

“Chase, are you listening to me?”

Pulling in a breath, she directed her attention back to her family’s newest international addition, mere weeks away from celebrating its grand opening as a boutique hotel. “Absolutely,” she told her father. “I’ll contact you as soon as I have news.”

He paused. “I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here, Coconut.”

The long-overused nickname left her shaking her head with a smile. “Only everything I want in the world.” She checked the time. “Okay, I need to go. I’ll call you later. And don’t worry.”

Disconnecting the call to his disbelieving chuckle, she tilted her head back to see all the way to the hotel’s roof. With her hands on her hips and a broad stance, she felt invincible, though the centuries-old building rose above her as if in challenge, showing off its lost-in-time architecture and intricately detailed waterspouts made of stone humanlike faces.

“I can’t tell if you were checking me out, or the new hotel.” The deep voice and Italian accent slid over her skin like velvet.

She had to lift her chin to meet his eyes, and her heart hammered in her chest. This trip was definitely looking up, in an over-six-feet-tall, dark-and-handsome kind of way. She grinned. “Oh, I think you know exactly, but clever opening.”

His wide mouth quirked up. “And here I thought your perusal of my footwear was opening enough. Size twelve, by the way. Quite adequate, if I do say so myself.”

Heat rushed to her hairline. Size twelve would do just fine. “I’m sure I have no interest in the size of your…shoes.” And she didn’t. As a matter of fact, she’d be completely satisfied to see his shoes discarded, along with his pants— because damn was this guy made to walk around naked. “Are all Italians this concerned with their footwear?”

He considered her question as if she’d asked about the local political climate. “Only when it appears said footwear may make or break his chances at extending the conversation into dinner.”

Dinner, breakfast, possibly lunch. She was all about meeting her three-meal-a-day requirements, but he didn’t need to know that. Not quite yet, anyway. She looked over his strong brow, and the breeze ruffled the dark hair at his temple. With a casual glance toward the hotel, she tucked her hands behind her back to keep from seeing how the strands would feel against her fingertips.

“Well?” He raised a brow playfully.

Another grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. She liked a man who wasn’t afraid to close the deal. “Lunch, at the very least.” She stepped up on the first stair leading into the hotel. The additional height brought her to eye level with her new friend, and her stomach dipped a bit as if she’d crested the top hill of a roller coaster ride. “But I’ve got some work to do first.” She nodded toward the doors. “You know where to find me.”

Turning back to the stairs, she grabbed the railing and paused to pull in a breath as her already rapidly beating heart kicked into overdrive. This hotel was her one shot, her one opening to prove that she belonged on the Huntington payroll—that she was valuable beyond just having the family name.

She could do this.

And the sooner the better.

The Huntington House, a boutique hotel right in the middle of this beautiful old-world city, would host its first guests in three weeks. And if she could pull off the grand opening without a hitch, it would prove to the board she was the best possible candidate for a director of hotel operations position back in Malibu—a job she wanted so badly she could feel it to her Jimmy Choo-clad toes. The applicants would be interviewed in one month, which meant this grand opening was her only chance to show everyone she actually deserved her dream job. Not because she was the boss’s daughter, but because she was more than capable of kicking ass and taking names when it came to running a hotel.

She had a little less than a month to prepare. Three weeks. Twenty-one days. Already less than five hundred hours. She could break it down to the minute, but she didn’t have the time.

So what if she’d been sent to a country she’d never been to before, where she didn’t even speak the language? Thank God they’d at least set up a translator, because her fluency in Japanese and German weren’t going to be any help here. Now was the moment she wished she’d studied Spanish or French. But those were her father’s forte, a small detail her mother had waved off as if insignificant. “We’d send your father, but he’s been so ill. He simply can’t make the trip.”

So now she had a hotel to launch. She squared her shoulders and brushed her hands against each other. Piece. Of. Cake.

With one last glance at her sexy Italian with the bedroom eyes and chiseled jaw, she entered her hotel through the large wooden double doors.

And stepped straight into hell.

Chase came to an abrupt stop and took in the scene before her. Plush sitting chairs were randomly placed throughout the lobby like a handful of jacks dropped by a toddler. Lamps, still in their packaging, lined the check-in counter. Potted plants, artwork, and decorative pillows by local designers sat in piles on the floor.

On. The. Floor.

What the hell was going on?

As she looked from the two well-coiffed women arguing behind the counter to the group of handsome gents having a heated discussion in the elevator alcove, a persistent pounding set up shop at the base of her skull.

She approached the women at the desk. “Excuse me.” Neither looked her way.

“Excuse me,” she said. This time with a bit more force.

The women went silent and turned their heads in unison. Identically dressed, dark hair swept up in French twists, deep red lipstick.

Chase placed her hand on the counter. “What is going

on here?”

They looked at each other and then at Chase. The one on the right spoke. “Che cosa?”

“What?” Chase shook her head. A commotion from behind caught her attention, and she spun around. The gentlemen from the elevator alcove walked up to her, all speaking in Italian at once.

She threw up her hands. “Please. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

One of the gentlemen slapped another on the shoulder and gestured toward Chase as he spoke. All the men laughed.

Well, hell, this was not the start she was hoping for. Where was the director of hotel operations? She bit the inside of her cheek. Everything should be set up and ready to go. All she was supposed to do was prepare for the grand opening, and make sure the ambiance of Huntington House melded old-world Ferrara and upscale, white-glove customer service, following the vision set by her and her father. But the director was nowhere to be seen, and the place looked like a hurricane had come through.

“Gentlemen, please. Where is the director, Signor Donati?”

They all shook their heads, speaking over one another with accompanying hand gestures. She didn’t need to know Italian to understand Donati was nowhere to be found, and they weren’t happy with the new American interloper.

“Okay, okay. One at a time. Please.” She pulled in a breath. “Does anyone here speak English?”

It didn’t take a translator to figure out what “stupido Americano” meant.

The pounding in her skull revved up as their voices and her to-do list grew louder and longer. The staff wasn’t bilingual? At the very least the concierge and customer service should be. Who the hell hired these people? And where the hell was Donati?

The desire to fire everyone on the spot was strong, but she dug her nails into her palms instead. Three weeks left meant no time to interview, hire, and train all new staff that met Huntington House standards. But they didn’t need to know that.

Raising her voice to be heard over the commotion, she placed her hands on her hips. “It looks like the first thing I need to do is find new staff.”

The two women inhaled sharply as the men continued to argue. Chase eyed the two ladies through narrowed slits. They understood English just fine.

“Oh come now, that’s no way to start off as the new kid in town, is it? Perhaps I might be of some assistance.” A miracle came in the form of a familiar voice that skimmed down her spine for a second time that day. Her glance at his shoes was nothing more than a reflex.

Immediate silence followed.

“You’re my translator?” Chase looked over the heads of her motley crew and took in her tall, dark, and handsome she’d been sparring with only minutes ago. She could look at this man all day, but right now she needed his voice. “Thank God.”

“No, thank Drago.” He flashed a devastating grin, then extended his hand. As she slid her much smaller one into his firm grip, she couldn’t help but feel like she were shaking hands with the devil.

Because there was no way God would ever make a man this sexy on purpose.

At five feet nine inches plus four-inch heels, Chase normally met at eye level if not towered over most people— but this guy still looked down his straight and narrow nose at her with an intense dark gaze and a hint of a smile. The kind of smile that curled her toes and set off warning bells at the same time. He was still playful, but with an undercurrent of something dangerous.

She gave a mental shake of her head, chastising herself. “Drago De Luca…at your service.”

She frowned. “You could have told me outside you were my translator. Playing me as the fool will never help extend lunch into dinner.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her a moment. “Lucky for me, you already agreed.”

“Did I?” She most certainly had not. Especially now that she knew he worked for the hotel.

“But you’re mistaken, in any case. I’m not your translator. No Italian, I take it?” His voice was rich and deep, gliding over the English words with an accent she felt more than heard.

The warmth from his hand seared all the way up to her shoulder. She let him go and tried to drop her hand to her side, but he’d closed his fingers more firmly over hers before she could slip free.

She glanced down at their hands, then back to him. “Barely anything beyond ‘ciao.’ I’m Chase Huntington. I was expecting my director of hotel operations to be here. He was supposed to be my translator. Or so I thought.” She tried to pull her hand free again, but Drago continued to hold it. “My hand, love?” Her intrigue quickly dissipated.

With the two of them playing tug-of-war and the staff all standing around looking to Signor De Luca instead of her, she needed to regain control. Now.

She opened her mouth just as Drago released her. He put his palm up, gaining the attention of the group behind the counter. “Ottenere questa lobby in ordine ora. E non farti vedere ancora arte sul pavimento.”

A few of the men cast their gazes over to the pile of pictures and pillows, then to Chase. She had no idea what he’d said, but with only a few words, the men rearranged the furniture while the women focused on the artwork. The pounding at the base of her skull eased a bit.

One man, the loudest of the bunch, paused to say something. But one sharp glance from Drago had the man snapping his mouth closed and dropping his gaze to his feet.

That was interesting.

Chase studied her new friend. He stood in a way that took up space. When he spoke, her staff took action. Which would be impressive if he was supposed to be the one in charge. But she was the person responsible for this hotel, with no time to waste in completing the design concept. Three weeks was barely long enough to execute a grand opening, much less finish the renovations the director had apparently skipped out on.

She took a few brisk steps to the counter and laid her purse on the edge. Then, turning back to her sexy-in-shining-armor, she placed her hands on her hips. Sizing up people had become one of her superpowers over the years. The ability had developed when she discovered everyone was a stranger until they found out her last name was Huntington, and then they suddenly wanted to be best friends. And right now her superpower was telling her this guy was used to being listened to, wouldn’t deal with anyone’s shit, and knew the area.

She’d never been one for being indecisive, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for what she wanted. And what she wanted was this opening to be a success. “I have a lot of work to do and a very short time to do it in, and apparently the director is gone, so…” She clapped her hands together. “Want a job?”

His jaw clenched a few times as he looked her over. Her tailored dress became too tight under his gaze, and her first “to-do” moved to second place as getting out of her dress moved to first. She resisted the need to fan her face. And shot him a suspicious look. Damn. Apparently he had a superpower, too.

That wolfish grin flashed across his face again. “I already have a job.”

“What do you do?”

“Business.”

She studied him, then tried another tactic. “You’re from the area?”

The corner of his mouth threatened to curve up, but he settled it in a thin line. “Born and raised, but I left a long time ago. My grandmother owns Casa di Nonna.”

“So you’re familiar with the hotel business as well? That’s perfect. You can see then why it’s so important I hit the ground running.”

His brows pulled up, but he didn’t answer.

“How long are you in town?” She rocked back and forth on her heels. Every second that ticked by was another lost.

“Around a month.”

“What will it take to extend a helping hand? I’ll make it worth your while.”

He stepped toward her. “I like the way you negotiate.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head with a quiet chuckle. “Our accountant will make it worth your while.” Enough of this. “Look, you’re in town, you know the people, and I need a translator in order to make the impossible possible, not today, not tomorrow, but yesterday.” The offer was ballsy and the man hardly looked like he needed a second job, but he’d already shown how effective he’d be. Taking note of the lobby, she shuddered to think of the state of the guest rooms, and the impossibility of her situation tightened the muscles in her neck.

“I’d heard the American was in town, but no one had mentioned how straightforward she was. I like it.” His mouth definitely curved into a devilish grin now.

“I don’t have the time to scour Ferrara for a translator, so if you’re open to it, love…” She held her breath. If he agreed, she could at least get started with her new plan since it seemed the director had jumped ship.

He tapped his fingers on the registration counter. “Fine. You’ll need all the help you can get. Not everyone’s enamored with the idea of an American hotel in Ferrara. It’s a tight-knit, loyal community.”

Swift relief rushed through her, and she squeezed her nails into her palms to keep from performing a double fist pump. The quicker Ferrara got to know her, the sooner they’d be open to helping her, and the better she’d be able to launch this grand opening before hightailing it back to her palm trees and salty breezes.

Returning his grin with one of her own, she nodded.

He froze, staring at her intently, but she stepped back to the counter and grabbed her phone. She opened a memo app, then looked up at him, waiting.

Something flashed in his eyes, but he casually walked to her side, stealing her air. She tilted her head, finger poised over the screen keyboard. “What’s your schedule like? I’ll plan my needs around you.”

He licked his lips, then chuckled. “Music to my ears: efficient, right to the point. I can respect that.”

God. That accent. Her toes curled in her Louis Vuittons.

Glancing past her to the open space of the lobby, he seemed to consider his options, then focused back on her. “Give me your number, and I’ll text you the times.”

She tried to resist the way her knees wanted to buckle in relief. “Thank you.”

He winked. “Let’s wait and see if you still feel that way in a few days. I never promised to be easy to work with.”

But the warmth in his eyes made promises she wanted him to keep, and she sucked in a breath. Get a hold of yourself, woman.

“If we’re going to work together, you have to get me up to speed. We need to sit down and talk.” He tapped the top of her phone.

She bit her lip. Of course he was right. And being a local businessman, he could probably answer many of the questions she had already listed in her memo app. “Agreed. Do you know where we can find some good biscotti?”

Chapter 2

Oh, he knew where she could get a good biscotti all right. In fact, there was nothing he wanted more than to show this tall, lithe American exactly how good. But Drago pushed down his baser instincts. Now was not the time. First he needed to set his plan of running his new friend out of the country in motion, or at the very least making sure she changed the grand opening date of Huntington House. His family’s inn depended on it.

It was a shame, though. A no-expectations, no-commitment night under the sheets, on top of the sheets, and maybe on the floor with her was exactly what he needed to blow off some steam.

“I know the best place,” he answered Chase. “Follow me. Though, since you’re in Ferrara, you should really try panpepato.”

“Pan pep what?” Her gloss-slicked lips pulled up in a grin. He liked the shape of her mouth with its upturned corners. It looked like she was always smiling a bit.

“It’s a dense chocolate and almond cake. Nothing like it.” His nonna made the best, and the inn was known as the place to get it.

Tucking her small bag under her arm, she moaned. “Sounds divine. I have a huge sweet tooth. So, yes to the biscotti and the pan pep—”

“Panpepato.”

“I’ll let you say it.” She winked.

He liked her playful side as much as he disdained her spoiled side. She was forward and confident and not afraid to say what she wanted. Must be easy to have that kind of bravery, since she’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, instead of having to scrape and fight her way to the top.

They made their way toward the front of the hotel, and he called out a few instructions to Chase’s staff. Finish setting up the lobby, but cooperation ends there—unless he was with her. A few nods and grunts confirmed his instructions. She wouldn’t succeed with her grand opening, but he’d make sure it looked like she could with him by her side.

He and Chase slipped through the large entrance doors to the sidewalk outside.

She turned to him, and her short black hair glinted in the sunlight. She reminded him of the American cartoon character Betty Boop, but tall and willowy. Her large eyes assessed him, then with a slight dip of her chin she said, “I do appreciate your help. And I’ll take you up on all the desserts.”

He shifted from one foot to the other as his slacks lost the roominess the relaxed fit had promised.

She lifted a hand. “But since I basically bullied you into helping me, it’s my treat.”

Oh no, the treat was all his. He was on a mission to save his grandmother’s inn, and he couldn’t do that if someone else was helping Chase. This “job” had been his plan from the beginning. The best way to work undercover was to be invited, and the best place to hide was in the open. But he’d let her think she was in control. For now.

“If you insist.”

She nodded. “I do, love.” Moving through the front doors, she asked, “Do you have work today?”

If she only knew. “All the time.” I’m working right now. “But I make my schedule. The nice thing about being the boss.” He winked.

She grinned. “Of course you’re the boss. Now, then. You promised me the best biscotti in town and chocolate cake like nothing I’ve ever had. That’s a tall order.”

Those damn eyes. He wanted to see that expression from over her shoulder again and again, but on her hands and knees and with a lot fewer people around. “I always deliver.”

What the hell was it with her? Americans didn’t normally do it for him. His taste ran more along the lines of a delightful Swedish woman, or maybe a Parisian woman, any time, any place, and preferably on a beach.

That was his goal, anyway. If all went as planned, he’d be prepared to start cutting back hours and moving forward with travel by the end of the year. His portfolio was bursting at the seams as it was, now that he owned over seventy-five companies. He wasn’t known as the Dragon in the European corporate world for nothing. He devoured small companies like dragons did fair maidens. No guilt, no shame; simply business. And he was the best. At thirty-three, he’d been to more countries than most people would visit in a lifetime, and he owned more companies than most people owned socks. Going slow and taking it easy was not his way of doing things.

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his slacks, he stepped up beside her. “This way.”

As they walked along the brick road, he breathed in his Ferrara. He loved this town, the community, the lifestyle. People really knew how to live here. His city was full of Renaissance charm, and he never stopped discovering something new around every corner. It made his time away more difficult than he’d imagined, but necessary nonetheless.

Chase texted furiously on her cell, and he couldn’t help the frown that pulled at his mouth. She was missing his home city. Typical. The town where she was intent on setting up shop wasn’t really important to her at all. Her nose was so far into her phone, he was surprised she hadn’t walked into a bicyclist already.

This was the exact reason he couldn’t let an American hotel’s opening affect his grandmother’s inn. Americans didn’t believe in tradition, didn’t respect history, and certainly wouldn’t do justice to the needs of Ferrara.

Not to mention Huntington House would put his grandmother out of business entirely. Casa di Nonna had to open this month or not at all—and everything had been coming along just fine until he’d heard the Americans had planned their opening for the exact same week. Overshadowed by Huntington House’s publicity and fanfare, his grandmother’s reopening would barely be visible, and she couldn’t afford to sit around until her client base noticed her again.

The inn had been in the family so far back they’d lost count. A better grandson would have seen the problems a long time ago, but he’d been too busy with his own life to notice his grandmother’s. And when he’d tried to simply give her the money to keep the inn afloat, she’d refused. “It’s your business sense and time I want, Drago,” she’d insisted. “Nothing else.”

And time was the one thing he couldn’t give her, at least not more than a few weeks a year. His wanderlust and his job wouldn’t allow it.

He cracked his neck from one side to the other. This was his chance to make up for all of that. “Here we are.”

Chase snapped her head up and dropped her phone in her bag. “What? Ohhhh.” She breathed the word, and he liked the sound of it. “This is beautiful.”

His favorite coffee and pastry bar graced the corner of a quaint little intersection boasting old-world cobblestones and lush hanging plants. The sign hung above a door that stayed open during mild weather and beckoned travelers inside during the cold.

As they made their way to a tall bistro table in the sitting area outside, she closed her eyes and breathed in the aroma of fresh-baked pastries. He pulled out a chair and held it while she slid up on the seat. “I’ll go put in our order.”

She nodded and pulled her phone out again. “Grazie.”

“Chase.”

Glancing up, she paused.

“Ferrara is a beautiful town. You should really see it someday.”

Her brow furrowed, then she shook her head, replying to an email or text in a flurry of her long, delicate fingers.

He supposed he should be grateful. Her dismissal of his city made his job easier.

Inside the bar, he ordered two house specialty biscotti and two caffès from the tall counter.

“Signor De Luca, how nice to see you again.”

Drago kissed the weathered cheeks of Signora Accosi. The tendrils escaping her thick salt-and-pepper braid brushed his cheek while a hint of cinnamon tickled his nose.

“You remind me so much of your father,” she said, then cast her eyes down to her hands and bit her lip as if she’d been caught swearing at the cathedral.

Everyone had always told him how much like his father he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the man, though he received a call every few months. The only real memory he did have was of his father walking away from him with a briefcase in his hand and a fedora atop his head. Which was why Drago didn’t do commitment. He’d never do that to a kid, and with his genetics, the only way to ensure that was to steer clear of having a family entirely.

He held her by the shoulders kindly. “I have a favor to ask you. I shouldn’t, but it’s for Nonna.”

The bakery owner’s eyes twinkled. “Anything for you, my boy.”

“I’m determined to make sure Huntington House can’t open on schedule, so Casa di Nonna has enough time to get back on its feet again.”

“Good,” Signora Accosi said. “What can I do?”

He pointed out the crosshatched windows. “See the beautiful woman sitting outside? She’s the American setting up the new hotel. We need to make sure she doesn’t want to stay, so they’ll have to reschedule the opening.”

“She looks like a sweet woman.”

Drago nodded, taking in the tanned, smooth skin of Chase’s calf as she casually swung her crossed leg back and forth. “I think she may be. But we don’t have room for sweet, not when Nonna’s inn is at stake.”

“I don’t know, my boy. What does Nonna think?”

“She doesn’t know because she’d never agree. But this is the only way to save the inn, otherwise I wouldn’t ask.”

Signora Accosi’s sweet smile still held a punch, and he kissed her forehead. The town would do anything for his grandmother. He was counting on it. Grabbing the order, he headed back out to Chase.

One business at a time, he’d make sure Ferrara ran her out all on its own.

As he approached the table, Chase threw him a brilliant smile, white teeth in a perfect row framed by luscious lips. Her skin reminded him of caffè con panna but with extra cream. His fingers itched to touch it, to see if it felt as soft as it looked.

Goddamn. He cleared his throat.

“Biscotti now, panpepato later. You are about to die and go to heaven.” He placed the sweet, crisp biscotti in front of her along with her caffè, then took the chair across from her.

“The best in Ferrara?” she asked.

His grin stretched across his face slowly. “Second-best.”

“You promised the best.”

Every muscle in his body tightened at the tone in her voice. He didn’t know her well enough to be sure if she was aware of the breathy note when she spoke sometimes, but damn if every fiber in his body wasn’t.

“Soon.” And he meant it. He might need to run her off and cancel her grand opening, but if she was up for it, he’d be damned if he didn’t have a taste first.

Lifting the cookie from her plate, she wrapped her lips around one end and sank her teeth through with a crunch. “Oh. My. God.” Chewing, she rolled her eyes back in a fake O face, then washed the cookie down with a tentative sip of her caffè.

He sipped from his own cup, settled by the strong bite of espresso. “As your translator, I’ll be able to show you all the best places in Ferrara. You’re going to need the information for your concierge. Huntington House plans to cater to a high-end clientele, right?”

She nodded. “Research has already been done.”

“Research. Due diligence. Sure. I guarantee your research techs missed half of the best places.”

Narrowing her eyes, she sat straighter in her chair. “Love, I’ll have you know we have the best people in the business. Huntingtons don’t cut corners.”

He mirrored her position. “Maybe not, but if they aren’t from Ferrara, they don’t know. And tell me, do you call everyone ‘love’?”

One quick dip of her chin confirmed his statement. “A habit I formed living abroad and haven’t been able to break, so I quit trying. Did you feel important for a second?” She winked to soften the blow.

He laughed. “You can make me feel more important by letting me help you with the opening beyond translating.” Which would make his job a hell of a lot easier.

“I appreciate the offer, but I learned a long time ago to depend on myself. This is my baby. I just need to make sure I understand what it needs.” Something flickered in her gaze, but she blinked a few times and it was gone.

God, she was a tough one. But that was fine. He loved nothing more than a good challenge. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not with more than my pastry selection and knowing your native language.” She threw him a look, then continued. “That can’t surprise you. I doubt you trust many people yourself.”

She was no dummy, which left his pants tightening again. Che cazzo.

“I don’t trust anyone.” And he meant it. Save for his grandmother, he couldn’t name one person in his life who actually followed through on their promises.

“Well, Signor De Luca, that’s one thing we have in common, then. So you can understand why I’ll go through my business for any other help I need. I have limited time to get a lot of work done.”

“And you’re used to getting your way.”

She quirked a perfectly shaped black brow. “And you aren’t?”

“I’ve worked my fingers to the bone and earned that expectation.”

Every muscle in her body stilled, and she stared at him. “Oh. I see. And I haven’t, is that it?”

He shoved his frustration down with the last bite of his cookie. Baiting her wouldn’t help at all. His knee ached to bounce and his fingers itched to tap, but experience taught him to control his body’s reactions. Slowly releasing a breath, he simply gave her a smile. People who knew the Dragon didn’t tell him no, but she didn’t know him. So he’d forgive her transgression. File it as on par for the American-heiress stereotype.

It didn’t matter anyway. Business was business, and he always won. In truth, he’d have been disappointed if she’d handed anything over to him. He couldn’t respect anyone that ignorant.

She carefully brushed a few crumbs from her dress and stood. “Speaking of time, we’ll have to cut this conversation short. Thank you.” She looked around the outdoor space, her glance bouncing from bicycle to bicycle, then to the hanging plants along the windows of the bakery. “I will put this place on the list.”

Adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, he watched her march down the main street of Ferrara toward the Huntington House. Her heart-shaped ass popped from side to side with each step. Cazzo.