Resisting The Sicilian Playboy. Amanda Cinelli
with her proposal for the castle. She smiled as she thought of his arrogant confidence. Sometimes even sharks needed to be taught a lesson.
* * *
Dara’s hotel wasn’t particularly fancy, but for such short notice it was good value and it didn’t have bugs in the beds. That was good enough for her.
She decided to take the stairs down to the lobby to use up some of the nervous energy she had accumulated since leaving the club last night. After lying awake since dawn, staring into the distance, she had sprung out of bed and begun typing some ideas she’d had for the event tonight. They were good ideas—maybe some were even great—but that didn’t mean they would be heard. After getting dressed and pacing the room for an hour, she’d decided against it.
Whatever Leo Valente’s plan was for her this evening, she doubted it had anything to do with her organisation skills. It was up to her to convince him to contract Castello Bellamo out to her by not giving him a chance to ignore her logic.
She decided that she might as well see the sights while she mentally tortured herself. Whatever it was that he had in store for her, she was going to give it her all.
The lobby of the hotel had a small tourist kiosk. She approached the guide behind the counter and asked for some basic tools to see the main sights of Milan in a few short hours. The girl quickly began gathering various maps and brochures for her to plan her journey. She would need tickets for the trams, she announced, and headed through a small door behind the desk.
Dara picked up an Italian tabloid magazine and began carelessly flipping through the pages while she waited. Her hands stopped on an image of a familiar tall, dark Sicilian nightclub owner on a page entitled ‘The Lonely Hearts Club’.
Dara almost laughed at the thought of Leo Valente being lonely. The man had women falling at his feet wherever he went. In this particular candid shot he was pictured bare-chested, sitting by a pool, and the look on his face was one of absolute boredom rather than lovesickness. The small bubble printed next to his head indicated that ‘poor Leo’ was tired of a life of supermodel flings and was ready to settle down. ‘Is there a lioness brave enough to tame him?’ the final line wondered.
She turned to the next page, refusing to look at him. A lion indeed—that suited him much better than a shark. She had read somewhere before that lions liked to play with their food before they ate it. If ever there was an apt description for Leo Valente, that was it.
Her mind flashed back to the way he had looked at her last night, and she ignored the shiver of awareness that coursed through her. Sure, he was an attractive man—she could hardly deny that. But she had spent the past five years ignoring countless attractive men and she wouldn’t be stopping now. Her career plan didn’t leave time for men, and she was quite happy to keep it that way.
‘Brushing up on current events, Dara?’
She snapped up her head in surprise, only to be pinned by a familiar smirking emerald gaze.
Leo raised a brow in silent question. ‘My “lonely heart” is apparently worthy of your attention this morning... I didn’t take you as the type to read gossip.’
Dara looked down and realised she was still holding the trashy magazine. ‘I don’t.’ She said it a little too quickly. ‘I’m just browsing while I wait for some travel information.’
She shoved the offending publication hastily back into the stand, straightening up to push an errant tendril of hair behind her ear.
He seemed taller and more imposing than he had the night before, if that was even possible. Dark jeans and a brown leather jacket accentuated the rough casual air that seemed to surround him wherever he went.
How had he known she was staying here? She didn’t remember mentioning the name of her hotel to him. And besides, his event wasn’t scheduled for another eight hours. Was he here to tell her he had decided not to give her a chance after all? Last night she had been lucky. She had caught him off guard, piqued his interest. Maybe he had woken up this morning and realised that this was one impulse he could erase.
She reflected on her black skinny jeans and warm woollen sweater, wishing she had worn something more professional. She had decided to be sensible today, choosing flat patent pumps for her plan of walking around the city. Now, as he stood in front of her, she felt short for the first time in her life. She was tall at five foot eight—especially by Italian standards. But she barely reached his chin.
Just then the kiosk attendant returned from behind the counter and placed a small tram card on the counter next to her bundle of maps and brochures.
‘She doesn’t need these any more.’ Leo pushed the items back towards the attendant with a polite nod. The poor girl was clearly starstruck, with her head bobbing up and down and two bright pink spots on either cheek.
Dara groaned. Was that what she had looked like last night? She needed to remind herself to think sad thoughts when her painfully pale Irish skin decided to play up.
‘I was planning to use those.’ She reached towards the documents on the counter. She didn’t care who he was—she wasn’t going to let him hijack her day on another of his whims.
‘The last time I checked you were mine for today.’ His eyes glittered as he leaned casually on the counter. ‘Like you said last night, Dara, I’m an impulsive man. If you want to work with me so badly, you need to learn to live by my rules. If I decide to take you to lunch, you drop your plans.’
Dara felt a shiver run down the back of her neck. This was ridiculous. He was practically ordering her to obey. She tried to think of a witty retort—something to wipe away that confident lift of his brow. Nothing came. She was here to audition for a role, and therefore she had to play his game. If that meant dropping her plans at his request, then so be it.
‘Consider them dropped.’ She fitted her bag under her arm and tilted her chin in what she hoped was a confident expression. ‘I’m entirely at your disposal.’
One corner of his mouth tilted upwards, ‘Congratulations. You just passed the first test. But I don’t intend to dispose of you, Dara—not just yet.’
* * *
Leo had never thought he would get such satisfaction in seeing a woman eat. The rooftop trattoria was a little gem he liked to visit when he was in Milan, but he couldn’t remember ever being so transfixed by a female companion before. She ate so carefully, spinning each forkful of spaghetti until it was wound tight before sliding it into her mouth. She refused to speak with a full mouth, and looked positively horrified when he did so without thought.
She had chosen spaghetti with fresh mixed seafood after enquiring about the specialities. She hadn’t asked for a menu, and had graciously accepted the waiter’s recommendations for a mixed appetiser platter they could share. The silver-haired Tuscan had positively beamed with delight at her accent when she spoke. Such a polite blonde foreigner with a clear Sicilian dialect—she was quite the novelty.
He took a sip of his sparkling water, watching as she placed the last forkful into her mouth. She had been eating so delicately he had hardly noticed that she had demolished the entire dish.
‘Food is another passion of yours, I see.’ He smiled.
She dabbed the napkin lightly at her mouth. ‘Since I moved here—definitely.’
He followed the neat little movement of her hands as she placed her fork across the plate. The waiter promptly came and cleared the table, offering them an array of desserts which they both politely declined.
She sighed and sat back unselfconsciously in her seat, satisfied by the large meal. He imagined that might be how she looked after other types of satisfaction, and his stomach clenched at the thought.
Distracting himself, he stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘A woman who likes to eat is a rarity in my world.’
She turned her head to look out of the window, across the dull Milanese skyline. ‘The women in your