Chapter 20
Allegra
TONIGHT WAS THE best date I’d ever been on, and it hadn’t even been a date.
I slipped into bed at midnight, smiling like an idiot as thoughts of Matteo filled my head.
He was so thoughtful. He could calm me in the middle of the storm that had become my life.
And God, the way he looked. That last thought lingered.
In the past, the hotter the guy, the faster his rating had seemed to drop once I got to know him and spotted all the red flags.
But Matteo? The more time I spent with him, the higher his rating grew.
After taking this trip, he was at least a fourteen, possibly higher if he kept on smiling at me the way he had all evening.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was him. Either way, I suddenly wanted him to know exactly what he did to me.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand, thumb hovering for a few seconds before typing.
Allegra: I think you’re pretty amazing. I’m going to bed smiling on the eve of what might turn out to be one of the worst days of my life. Thank you for coming here with me.
The reply came almost instantly.
Matteo: I think you’re pretty amazing, too. And I love your smile.
That made my already-big grin grow wider.
Rather than text back, I decided to take a selfie of me beaming to show him I wasn’t kidding.
I held my phone out, tilted it down for a good angle, and snapped a photo of me lying in bed.
Only when I checked the picture, I realized the camera had caught a lot more than I’d intended.
Yes, I was smiling, but I was also wearing a black slip nightgown, the top of which was lace and showed a lot of cleavage.
I hadn’t been going for sexy, but damn, it was.
I bit my lip, debating whether I should take another. Then the wine, or maybe the adrenaline, pushed me. Screw it. Send.
My heart raced as I watched the status go from Delivered to Read. The dots on the screen started to bounce around, then stopped and started twice before an incoming text arrived.
Matteo: You’re gorgeous. And that photo just made its way into my private folder.
A shiver ran down my spine.
Allegra: And what exactly are the photos in your private folder used for?
Matteo: I think you know the answer to that.
My thighs pressed together thinking of Matteo pleasuring himself to my picture. I hadn’t intended this conversation to go this way, but now that it had…
Allegra: I think it’s only fair that I have a picture for my private folder, then.
This time a response didn’t come right away. After a minute or two, I thought maybe I’d taken things too far. But then my phone chimed, a photo lit up my screen, and my breath caught.
Oh. My. God.
Matteo was sprawled across his bed, sheet slung low on his hips.
His muscular chest was bare, and his beautiful Italian skin was golden and smooth except for the sexy happy trail that led down to where it was covered.
One arm was bent behind his head, showing off the cut of his biceps, and his gaze was on me, even through the photo.
And God, the sinful smirk on his lips made it impossible to look away.
After a few minutes of staring, I swallowed.
Allegra: I’m speechless, and that’s saying something. LOL. Wow. Just wow. I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep after seeing that. I’m a little riled up.
His near-instant response left no doubt that he’d been waiting for my text.
Matteo: For the record, my door is open if you ever want to come see it in person…
It was tempting. Beyond tempting. Every nerve in my body felt alive as I thought about slipping out of bed and going to Matteo’s room.
I could almost feel the heat of his skin and smell his familiar masculine scent.
But the fantasy was safer than the reality.
If I crossed that line, I wasn’t sure I could ever come back. So instead, I typed.
Allegra: Good night, Matteo.
***
When I woke the next morning, I was so freaked out and focused on my upcoming appointment that there was no room to feel uncomfortable about my sexy photo exchange with Matteo last night.
“Morning,” he said as he emerged from his bedroom.
I looked at my watch. “Did you sleep this late?”
He shook his head. “I had a little trouble falling asleep last night.”
I smiled, but it didn’t linger.
“Nervous?” Matteo walked over to the espresso maker.
“Who, me?” I held up my hands. “No. I always wake up with a knot in my stomach and my palms sweating like I’m on trial for murder.” I pulled at the top of my T-shirt. “And…I have bumps. Thankfully, I packed a bottle of calamine lotion, anticipating that I might be a wreck.”
“How can I help?”
“I could use some of my grandmother’s sparkles right now. Any chance you have those?”
“Sparkles?”
“When I was a little girl, I was sometimes afraid at night when I’d first come to stay with her.
It was so quiet here compared to New York, and I heard every little creak of the old house and the wind blowing outside.
Nonna would always check on me a half hour or so after I went to bed, and if she found me awake, she would come into the room and tell me to sit up so she could sprinkle a bit of sparkles on my hair. She said sparkles made women stronger.”
Matteo’s lips curved. “That sounds like Sophia.”
“When I came to Tuscany after my grandfather died, I remember Nonna had sparkles in her hair for the funeral. She said she’d needed a little extra strength that day.”
Matteo pushed the buttons to start his espresso brewing, then walked over to rub my shoulders. My entire body was one big ball of tension, and my head immediately lolled forward, a low sigh slipping out.
“God, that feels good.”
He kneaded my achy muscles until his coffee finished brewing. When he went to get it, I stretched my neck left and right, feeling like I’d gotten some range of motion back. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He sipped his espresso. “What time is your appointment?”
“Ten thirty.”
“Have you decided if you’re going to tell her who you are?”
I shook my head. “Not yet, but I do need to decide what kind of a business I’m pretending to start here in Italy. That’s what the consult is for. I was thinking I’d tell her I’m starting a winery.”
Matteo smiled. “A winery, huh?”
“I don’t want to say I’m an attorney. I’m probably being paranoid, but I look like my father, and on the off chance she knows what I do, I figured I shouldn’t make it any easier to guess who I am.”
“What if she asks you about the business operations?”
“I thought of that. I’m going to say that I own some land, I’m partnering with an experienced winemaker, and I’m going to run the business end of things—like keeping the books and doing marketing and advertising. So it won’t seem strange if I don’t know what types of grapes make different wines.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“If you don’t mind dropping me off, I’d appreciate it. I think I’m too nervous to drive.”
He nodded. “I was planning on it. And I wait for you outside, in case you need me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It will make me feel better.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Matteo.”
***
“Buongiorno.” The woman behind the desk smiled.
My heart thumped. “Buongiorno. My name is Al—” Jeez, I’d already almost messed up. “Cassie Norman. My name is Cassie, and I have an appointment with Camilla Bianchi at ten thirty.”
“Ah. I get to practice my Inglese today?”
“Yes, sorry. My Italian is a bit rusty.”
“No problemo. It is fun. You like some caffé?” She gestured to a seating area that had a coffee station.
But I was already jumpy, so I didn’t think any more caffeine was a smart idea. “I’m good. Thank you.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I tell Signorina Bianchi that you are here. Please, you have a seat?”
It was strange to have someone else called by that name.
I looked around the office while I waited.
It was modern and clean, but nothing like the fancy firm I’d worked at.
Though if I were here as a legitimate client, I would probably prefer walking into a law firm like this.
It wasn’t ostentatious or intimidating, and I would’ve bet money that the hourly rates were a lot more reasonable.
A few minutes later, the receptionist called, “Signorina Norman.”
I jumped, and she smiled and waved.
“Come. I will take you back now.”
I followed the receptionist down a long hallway.
She walked briskly, each click of her heels making my heart beat faster.
I lagged behind, seriously considering turning around and bolting for the exit.
At the end of the hall, we made a right, and then she stopped in front of a closed door and said something I couldn’t hear over the loud sound of blood swishing in my ears.
I held my breath as she lifted her hand and knocked, then pushed the door open. Completely unaware that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the receptionist held her hand out for me to enter the office.
Oh God. This is it.
Every instinct screamed to get the hell out of there, yet somehow, I forced one foot in front of the other, terrified, but I was too far into this to go back now.
The woman behind the desk stood as I stepped in, and my stomach dropped. She looked older than I’d expected, older than her twenty-seven years. Her dark hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail, and a stylish navy-blue suit hugged her shoulders.
“Buongiorno.” She smiled and came around her desk, extending her hand. “Ms. Norman?”
I couldn’t breathe. My palms were slick, and it felt like she could hear my heart pounding inside my chest. Yet somehow, I had the good sense to wipe my hand on my pants before putting it in hers. “Uh, hello.”
She gestured to the guest chairs. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
I had no idea how the hell I was going to sit down and act normal, but I managed to plant my ass on the seat. One step at a time.
Camilla opened her desk drawer and took out a legal pad and pen, setting both on the desk in front of her before folding her hands.
She smiled. “You speak Inglese. Are you British?”