Italian Daddy’s Girl (Daddy’s Girl #15)

Chapter 1

BELLA

“You’re up early, Kitty,” I say, holding my phone to my ear as the rickety bus drives through the rolling Italian countryside. It’s a sunshiny afternoon.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t hate me,” she replies. “So yeah, set my alarm for this godawful hour.”

“Family emergencies trump impromptu getaways. Chill—please. And take care of your mom. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Thanks for being so understanding,” she replies.

“Don’t even think about mentioning it again.”

We say goodbye. Then I lean my forehead against the glass. Let a smile spread over my face.

Am I nervous to be traveling alone? You bet I am.

I’m twenty-three and this is the first time I’ve gone on a solo adventure. But this place is an artist’s dream. The light dancing and shimmering as if tempting me to pick up a paintbrush. I think I’ll survive.

I’ve got no choice anyway. I promised Grandma.

The bus stops. We step down one by one, squinting through the bright light at the magnificent scenery and sucking in the sweet, fresh air.

The rolling hills are lined with neat rows of grapevines, workers moving between them.

Stone farmhouses and barns dotted around the hills.

Cypress trees and olive groves at every turn.

And right next to us, overlooking it all, is a big villa.

A man stands on the balcony. I bite down as a layer of sweat pearls on my skin. Not just because I’m a curvy girl in a tight-fitting dress.

The man wears a shirt open at the front. Sleeves rolled up, thick muscled forearms on display. The golden sun bounces in his silver hair. His eyes seem intense, broody, even with the distance between us.

The tourists—including me—gather below him without him even needing to speak. His presence commands it.

“Thank you all for coming,” he says. His husky tone does confusing and impossible things to me.

A shimmer moves up my spine. I fight the absolutely insane urge to press my legs together in response to the sudden flush of heat there.

His accent isn’t what I expected. Old-money American, New York. Sophisticated but without a hint of Italian.

“My name is Alessandro… Alex. I’ll be giving you the tour personally today.”

His eyes roam over the crowd of twenty. Then linger on me.

I bite my lip. Quickly release it. My overactive artist’s mind paints him in strokes of savage hugeness …

His muscles swelling out of his clothes.

His smirk is laced with lust and hunger, although that’s probably all in my head.

Time seems to stretch. His gaze doesn’t move from me. His eyes flit. Down. To my breasts. I don’t know whether to push them together in the sundress or to run away. A sudden shy urge to hide.

There’s something dangerous about him. Something exciting.

Dangerous and exciting?

Get it together, Bella.

“Let’s begin,” he growls, turning away. And we follow.

“This is my favorite area,” he says. His husky voice fills the cellar.

Up close, he’s even more magnetic. Makes me even more insane.

I continually assure myself I’m imagining the looks. The way his dark eyes move from the other tourists and linger on me. My nipples ache. Push against my bra like the garment was designed to give me pleasure. My underwear is wet. Uncomfortably so.

What’s happening to me?

“I like the coolness,” he says. “The darkness.” Again, his eyes move to me. “The privacy.”

My mind spirals. Privacy … with him.

I imagine him pushing me up against a barrel. His hand between my legs. Stroking those big fingers up and down my wet underwear.

You’re soaked for me. Good fucking girl.

I push the thought away—and it returns.

Try again. Fail again.

He walks to the bottom of the staircase. I move too fast. The other tourists are still lingering in the cellar. Not in a rush like me. Don’t need the fresh air as desperately as I do … as if it will clear my chaotic thoughts.

Alex arrives at the door at the same moment as me. I step aside. Try to be polite. He steps forward. Doesn’t care about being polite. Not that I want him to.

He leans forward, his manly scent moving around me. Through me. A smile barely touches his lips. “Are you enjoying the tour?”

“Yuh-yes,” I murmur.

“I’m glad. What’s been your favorite part so far? Wait.” His wolfish eyes glimmer. “It was the vines and the fields. I saw your eyes light up.”

“You noticed that?”

He nods like it’s just us. Like the other tourists aren’t gathering and waiting to get up the stairs.

I notice everything about you, stranger, his intense expression seems to say.

“You had an artist’s spark in your eyes,” he says. “Or are my instincts wrong?”

I lick my lips. He looks savage. Almost angry, like he thinks I’m trying to seduce him. Which is crazy because I’ve never seduced anyone. Definitely not a man like him. Over six foot, jawline that could cut glass without breaking it, hair that shines silver with his experience and maturity.

Muscles that could break my nails …

“No, you’re right,” I murmur.

More than a ghost of a smile now. Just. “Thought so. If you like, you can try your hand at painting it. If that wouldn’t be unacceptably forward?”

His tone is heavy with irony. As if nothing could be too forward with us.

“Uh, sure,” I say. Warmth sparks through me.

He read me without me needing to say a word. He wants to fulfill my desires …

My artistic desires. That’s all.

I look aside. At a group of five people waiting to get past us. Cameras on straps and selfie sticks, guidebooks in their hands. Confusion on their faces.

Do they know each other?

That’s the vibe they’re giving. It’s the only explanation for how close he’s standing.

He steps back, waves a hand up the stairs.

“After you …” he pauses.

It takes me a second to realize he’s asking my name.

“Oh … Bella,” I say, voice weak. Knees weaker. Nipples aching so badly I’m starting to wonder if the friction of my clothes is going to make my toes curl and an orgasm erupt in me right now.

“After you … Bella,” he says.

I walk up the stairs.

The whole way, I know Alex is watching me. I can feel his savage gaze on my ass.

So, sue me …

I move my hips from side to side. Something I never would’ve dreamed of just thirty minutes ago.

But a man like Alex wanting me—if that’s what’s going on here—makes me feel powerful.

And that’s one hell of a feeling.