“It’s because of the last nine years that I need Brunelli’s endorsement to help my standing with the other families.”
“And what about Grace?”
“I told you, she doesn’t want me.”
“No, you told me you’d behaved inappropriately in a restaurant— I’m still shocked about that, by the way.” His mocking grin said the opposite. “Did Grace decide to walk out during or after you touched her inappropriately?”
“You’re deliberately trying to embarrass me,” Matteo muttered.
The other man chuckled. “You did it, so live with it!”
“After,” he mumbled.
Bryce nodded. “Which means she’s doubly embarrassed. Which now means you need to get on your knees and grovel. A lot. A bunch of flowers in your hand while you do it might help.”
“Are you giving my brother advice on how to apologize to a woman?” Bella teased as she entered the kitchen.
Bryce grinned. “You’re home early, love.” He curved his arm for Bella to step into, the two of them kissing long and deeply.
“I missed you,” Bella murmured huskily.
“I missed you too.”
“Would the two of you like me to leave?” Matteo drawled.
“No,” Bella objected.
“Yes,” Bryce said at the same time. “I can’t be too bad at this romance thing. I managed to hook you, didn’t I?” He grinned at Bella.
She chuckled. “I think that was more luck than judgment.” She turned to Matteo. “Am I right in thinking you have someone in your life? I know.” She brightened excitedly. “You can bring her to the wedding,” she suggested before Matteo could answer.
“Yeah, because inviting a woman you just met to a family wedding isn’t in the least premature,” Bryce derided. “No pressure at all.” He chuckled when Bella punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Just saying.”
“Well, don’t.” She turned back to Matteo. “Think about it, hmm?”
Matteo thought of little else but Grace on the drive back to his estate. Luca and Antonio followed in their black SUV. They had made their displeasure clear regarding his refusing to take them with him on his date with Grace on Friday evening. As a result, they had insisted on accompanying him out to lunch yesterday and again to Bella and Bryce’s tonight.
Matteo couldn’t exactly blame them after the way he’d been completely isolated for nine years, but those years of having his every move scrutinized or decided for him meant Matteo now enjoyed the freedom of being able to do whatever the hell he pleased. Which he accepted wasn’t always sensible when he was visibly known to be the head of the Zalotti organization. Admittedly, there was no longer any danger from the Russians, but the Romanians and other criminal gangs fast rising in the city were always looking for ways to advance their own organization. Taking out the head of the London Italian Mafia would certainly do that.
Yet another reason, to add to all the others, why Matteo shouldn’t even be thinking about trying to see Grace again.
“Don’t look now, but there seems to be a bouquet of yellow roses walking down the shop!”
“What?” Grace frowned her irritation as she looked up from where she was once again marking books off the list before placing them on the shelves.
Carla nodded toward the front of the store. “I’m guessing there’s at least fifty roses in that bouquet.”
Grace followed her gaze. She would have said twice that amount.
The long legs in tailored trousers she could see striding purposefully toward them beneath the bouquet looked all too familiar.
She’d had a horrible weekend, despite trying to keep busy.
Saturday was spent working in the bookstore, and Saturday evening, she had belatedly done her weekly food shopping. Sunday was laundry and housework day. Being back at work yesterday should have eased some of her tension, but instead, the time had dragged. Today wasn’t turning out to be much better.
Because none of those things had stopped her from thinking about Matteo Zalotti and their intimacy on Friday evening.
An intimacy that still made her blush.
Bad enough that Matteo had touched her in that way. Worse—ten times worse!—that she had responded so quickly and wantonly.
If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the caress of those long and sure fingers against her clit, stroking, pressing, until she had no longer been able to hold back her release.
In the same way she couldn’t deny the heat that now gathered between her thighs just from thinking of that intimacy.
And now Matteo—because she had no doubt it was him behind that huge bouquet of yellow roses—had the nerve to think he could just turn up here, the flowers obviously meant as an apology, and she would forgive and forget what had happened.
How could Grace forgive something she had allowed to happen?
She could have denied Matteo intimate access. Could have stopped his caressing fingers with a few cutting words. She had no doubt Matteo would have listened to her. Instead, she had reveled in that intimacy until her climax had been inevitable.
Grace had had plenty of time to think since Friday evening, and she now accepted she was as much to blame for what happened as Matteo was.
Which still didn’t mean she wanted to see him again!
There were reasons, so many of them, why that shouldn’t happen.
“Take this and put the books on the shelves for me, would you?” She lifted and handed over the box to the avidly watching Carla. “I’ll take Mr. Zalotti to my office.”
“That’s Matteo Zalotti?” Carla’s eyes had widened. She looked horrified, obviously well aware, with her own Italian background, that Matteo was the most powerful Italian living in the city.
“I believe so, yes,” she confirmed softly. “Not now, Carla,” she cautioned as the huge display of roses and Matteo came to a halt several feet in front of them.
Carla was staring in his direction like a victim caught in the mesmerizing gaze of a snake about to strike. “But he’s—”
“I’m well aware of who and what he is,” Grace stated
