beyond her
shoulders. He wondered if she was as pleasant face to face as she
was from the backside.
Either she heard his thoughts or felt his
presence, because she turned and looked him directly in the
eye.
Shock, then suspicion, covered her strikingly
delicate features. And she rewarded his sly smile with a frown. The
beauty before him didn’t belong in Silvio Negali’s office. And it
wasn’t her dusky brown skin or the letter opener she wielded in her
right hand. There was something about her that felt foreign and out
of place with thievery. Maybe it was the challenge he read in her
fearless posture. Nonetheless, she had his undivided
attention.
What a tasty morsel she was. The intensity and
purpose of her stare was a bit overwhelming on the face of someone
so feminine and dainty. A pair of soulful brown irises ringed with
dark lush lashes, smoldered with defiance. She tightened her small
fist around the gleaming, sharply pointed letter opener, as one
would wield a weapon. She looked to be in her early or
mid-twenties. Lorenzo’s gaze was seduced by her presence,
fragrance, and beauty to lower. Drawn now to her bow shaped,
rose-pink lips, determined chin, and then down her slender throat
where it lingered on her jutting breasts, narrow waist, and heart-
shaped hips.
She cleared her throat.
He forced his gaze up. To do so took the
strength of Hercules. She had childbearing hips and thighs any man
would love to climb between. All of this sex appeal at once was a
bit confusing, because he typically wasn’t aroused so easily by a
woman wearing so much clothing. Besides, he liked dresses and low
cut blouses. He wanted to see a woman’s thighs and watch the way
her ass moved under a skirt. He was a bit old- fashioned this way.
Fabiana had been an angel in stilettos. This dark beauty was the
total opposite.
All the blood pumping through the chambers of
his heart rushed to his groin. Fuck, did he have an
erection? Lorenzo got a hold of himself. Minutes ticked by and
neither of them spoke. He had a problem finding his voice. She was
tense, as if she was waiting for him to strike.
Was she a thief? God, he hoped so. It’s been
quite some time since he came across one with the balls to grift a
lawyer employed by the Camorra. Her lashes swept down, and she too
gave him a critical inspection. Did he pass the test?
As if to answer his silent question, she
placed the letter opener down on the desk and smiled.
“ Buongiorno. Come sí
chiami?” The softest feminine voice escaped her. It had a
lyrical seductive appeal. Lorenzo was rendered speechless. She
looked American, though her Italian was as smooth as cream. The
left corner of her full lips curled into a mocking smile. “I said
hello. What is your name? Don’t you speak Italian?”
Silvio Negali walked into the office. He
stopped abruptly at the sight of the woman. “What are you doing
here? We don’t have an appointment.”
The woman ignored him and extended her hand.
“ Mi chiamo Marietta Capriccio. Piacere. ”
“ Lorenzo Battaglia,” he replied,
and accepted her hand. Damn. She really did smell as sexy as she
looked. He stared up into her eyes and his lips brushed her
knuckles. “You speak Italian well,” he said purposefully, in
English.
“ I’m half Sicilian.” She arched a
single brow with a playful smirk. Was she flirting with
him?
Silvio cleared his throat. “ Signora Marietta, like I’ve said to you before, I can’t represent you. It’s
absurd for you to even ask. I can only refer you to legal friends
of mine to help your cause. I represent the Capriccios.”
“ And I am a Capriccio.” She pulled
her hand away. Lorenzo hadn’t realized he still held it. What was
sly and amusing about her smirk earlier was lethal now as she
glared at Silvio. “Caruso knew it, and so do you. Capriccio blood
runs in my veins under this dark skin that turns all of you to
stone when I enter the room.”
“ Please, Signora …”
“ Enough of the fake
shoulders. He wondered if she was as pleasant face to face as she
was from the backside.
Either she heard his thoughts or felt his
presence, because she turned and looked him directly in the
eye.
Shock, then suspicion, covered her strikingly
delicate features. And she rewarded his sly smile with a frown. The
beauty before him didn’t belong in Silvio Negali’s office. And it
wasn’t her dusky brown skin or the letter opener she wielded in her
right hand. There was something about her that felt foreign and out
of place with thievery. Maybe it was the challenge he read in her
fearless posture. Nonetheless, she had his undivided
attention.
What a tasty morsel she was. The intensity and
purpose of her stare was a bit overwhelming on the face of someone
so feminine and dainty. A pair of soulful brown irises ringed with
dark lush lashes, smoldered with defiance. She tightened her small
fist around the gleaming, sharply pointed letter opener, as one
would wield a weapon. She looked to be in her early or
mid-twenties. Lorenzo’s gaze was seduced by her presence,
fragrance, and beauty to lower. Drawn now to her bow shaped,
rose-pink lips, determined chin, and then down her slender throat
where it lingered on her jutting breasts, narrow waist, and heart-
shaped hips.
She cleared her throat.
He forced his gaze up. To do so took the
strength of Hercules. She had childbearing hips and thighs any man
would love to climb between. All of this sex appeal at once was a
bit confusing, because he typically wasn’t aroused so easily by a
woman wearing so much clothing. Besides, he liked dresses and low
cut blouses. He wanted to see a woman’s thighs and watch the way
her ass moved under a skirt. He was a bit old- fashioned this way.
Fabiana had been an angel in stilettos. This dark beauty was the
total opposite.
All the blood pumping through the chambers of
his heart rushed to his groin. Fuck, did he have an
erection? Lorenzo got a hold of himself. Minutes ticked by and
neither of them spoke. He had a problem finding his voice. She was
tense, as if she was waiting for him to strike.
Was she a thief? God, he hoped so. It’s been
quite some time since he came across one with the balls to grift a
lawyer employed by the Camorra. Her lashes swept down, and she too
gave him a critical inspection. Did he pass the test?
As if to answer his silent question, she
placed the letter opener down on the desk and smiled.
“ Buongiorno. Come sí
chiami?” The softest feminine voice escaped her. It had a
lyrical seductive appeal. Lorenzo was rendered speechless. She
looked American, though her Italian was as smooth as cream. The
left corner of her full lips curled into a mocking smile. “I said
hello. What is your name? Don’t you speak Italian?”
Silvio Negali walked into the office. He
stopped abruptly at the sight of the woman. “What are you doing
here? We don’t have an appointment.”
The woman ignored him and extended her hand.
“ Mi chiamo Marietta Capriccio. Piacere. ”
“ Lorenzo Battaglia,” he replied,
and accepted her hand. Damn. She really did smell as sexy as she
looked. He stared up into her eyes and his lips brushed her
knuckles. “You speak Italian well,” he said purposefully, in
English.
“ I’m half Sicilian.” She arched a
single brow with a playful smirk. Was she flirting with
him?
Silvio cleared his throat. “ Signora Marietta, like I’ve said to you before, I can’t represent you. It’s
absurd for you to even ask. I can only refer you to legal friends
of mine to help your cause. I represent the Capriccios.”
“ And I am a Capriccio.” She pulled
her hand away. Lorenzo hadn’t realized he still held it. What was
sly and amusing about her smirk earlier was lethal now as she
glared at Silvio. “Caruso knew it, and so do you. Capriccio blood
runs in my veins under this dark skin that turns all of you to
stone when I enter the room.”
“ Please, Signora …”
“ Enough of the fake
Similar Books
