Chapter 17
BYRON
My leg bounceswith the unwelcome ideas springing to mind. Fuck this. I stand and turn toward the sweeping staircase. Giana stands on the third step, frozen.
Our eyes meet, and her lips part.
She grips the rail before taking the next step.
I stride to meet her before she takes the final step. At this height, she can look me in the eye. Her hands fall over my shoulders as I bring her in for a tight embrace.
“Mr. Hendricks,” she whispers. Fuck. My dick reacts to her calling me that. She leans back and stares at me, her thoughts whirling behind those pretty brown eyes. “You’re full of surprises.”
I push flyaway strands away from her beautiful face. “This was a good surprise, I hope?”
She kisses me once. “Yes, it is.”
I kiss her hard, tasting her, and tighten my arms around her waist as she falls into me. All I want to do is scoop her into my arms and carry her up the stairs to her room.
“Mi scusi, signore.”Excuse me, sir.The concierge stands to our side with my bags. “Quale stanza?” What room?
Giana speaks in Italian to the concierge. The way she uses her hands as she speaks, one wouldn’t know she is American. I hear her mention her name, and the way Giana Monroe rolls off her tongue with an Italian accent hits me hard in the chest.
So fucking sexy.
She smiles at him, and he bows with a nod.
“Shall we?” She takes my hand, beaming her beautiful smile for me, and I take the first step by her side—the first of many steps I’ll take to be by her side this weekend.
Giana unlocks her door, and once inside, I flick it closed with my foot as I take her into my arms.
“I’ve missed you,” I say against her lips.
Her hands cup my face as if she never wants this kiss to end. We walk backward, our lips locked.
“I’ve missed you too. I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers, then pulls at my shirt. “I need this off.”
“With pleasure.” Giana sits on the bed, watching my hands as I unbutton my shirt. “What time are you expected in the studio?”
“Soon,” she says casually. Her eyes lower to my trousers. “Something just came up.” Her eyes meet mine with a hint of playfulness.
“Something?” I continue to strip for her. First, I undo my buckle, then I stall to bend and slide each foot out of my Amadeo Testoni shoes.
“Testoni?” Giana asks in a higher voice.
After learning of Giana’s love for Italy, I bought the fine Italian leather footwear. “Have I impressed you?”
Her gaze flicks over my face. “You’re full of surprises, Byron Hendricks.”
I unzip my trousers and slowly push them down my thighs, watching her expression as I do.
Giana licks her lips. “Wait.” She springs from the bed and peers up into my eyes. “Allow me,” she purrs.
Her delicate finger slides under the band of my underwear, our gazes still locked. I see the yearning in her eyes, matching the lust pumping to every inch of my body. She slowly slides the elastic down until my erection bounces free. Her gaze lowers. Giana falls to her knees and takes my cock in her hands, assessing the thickness. Her lashes flutter. She looks fucking perfect from here. Her lips part as she takes me in, and all the blood leaves my brain, heading south. In seconds, I’m heady, and the fatigue from the trip is lost as excitement rips through my bloodstream.
Christ.
Her lips suck, and her tongue swirls as she tastes me all the way to the base.
Fuck.
I grip her hair, rolling a handful around my hands. I’m unable to keep my thrusts in sync with her mouth. This woman is everything to me, and my body knows it, emotion and passion ripping through every inch of my body.
“I’m going to come,” I murmur through the delicious haze clouding my thoughts. Her mouth pumps my dick at a speed where I’m struggling to focus on anything except the pleasure. “Giana…” I breathe out hard, then inhale deeply, and she takes me deeper into her throat, faster, with more pressure from those perfect lips.
Eyes shut, I imagine her standing naked before me, touching her rounded breasts, fingers spread, her hand gliding down her stomach toward her pussy.
“Yes,” I murmur. In my vision, her fingers slide inside, and I lose every coherent thought as I find my release. The orgasm rips through my core, overtaking every thought as I empty into her pretty mouth. She releases my dick, which is still hard, and wipes her mouth. Her brown eyes look sexier than ever.
“Thank you for coming, Byron.”
Best fucking pun I’ve ever heard.
I fall to my knees, resting my forehead against hers. “My pleasure.” The words come out hoarse as I catch my breath. I soon find the energy to stand and carry her to the bed, as I initially intended when we entered the room.
I kiss her mouth. My hand finds her breast, and I trail my lips down her perfect neck.
“Byron,” she whispers. “As much as I want to stay here with you, I have a hair and makeup appointment.” I caress her nipple with my tongue. “I was on my way when I received the message from reception,” she says, sounding breathless.
“Cancel it. You’re already perfect.”
She giggles. “We can finish this later.” She takes my face in her hands and guides my lips to hers. “I’m so glad you came.”
I grin at the pun.
“So am I.”
Two hourslater and no sign of Giana. After showering, I sit on the balcony and watch the streets come to life. Church bells sound in the distance, and the tangy, sweet scent of basil, tomatoes, cheese, and pizza cooking in wood-fired ovens fills the air.
As I wait, I listen to an Italian app to give myself more than the basics of the language, kicking myself for only studying French, German, and Spanish in college. Closing the ivory and pink curtains of the balcony, I plop onto the lounge opposite the bed. The room is ivory, dusky pink, and jade, with splashes of red. The framed painting behind the bed spans wall-to-wall, a tropical setting where a river enters the sea, emphasizing the green rainforest. The huts and the boats on the river highlight the softer tones in the room. I feel like I’m inside one of Giana’s paintings. A blue-green ocean and the green foliage complement the jade throw over white bedsheets and the carpet. The carpet is enough to send one crossed-eyed—ivory diamonds with pink and red centers and a jade background. The couch has stripes of ivory, jade, and pink. My eyes go back to the painting, to the people with bare bums waving to the boats on the lagoon from grass huts. The uplifting color draws you into a beautiful landscape with the simplicity of life.
I dream of it yet cannot imagine it.
My knee bounces.
It’s been over twenty-four hours since I sweated in a gym. Since I touched a ball.
What was I thinking, coming to a foreign country where I can get high just sitting in the hotel room staring at the décor, with barely enough room to do pushups?
I’m out of my comfort zone. My thoughts shift to Giana’s boss declining a plus-one to the ball, and I’ll be damned if her sleazy ex gets a chance to touch her again.
I need a drink.
I head out of Giana’s room to the elevator and hit the button. A man and woman come to stand with me. After a few words, I hear Giana’s name and do my best not to turn around. The doors open, and we enter the elevator. I go to the back while they stand in the front.
Fuck me.
It’s Isabella and her dickwad nephew, Dante.
My hands ball into a fist.
Words are spoken fast, and while I don’t understand most of it, I hear Giana’s name, and it pisses me off. He has curly, dark hair and my height. His trousers, shoes, and crisp pale-pink shirt scream designer. Isabella’s hair is styled to perfection, not one strand out of place. I recognize her floral dress—it’s one of Giana’s designs, and her shoes and handbag match. Between her eau de parfum and his aftershave, I’m doing my best not to inhale his fucking scent, but it’s one I will remember, and I’ll never wear the same.
The elevator stops at level two.
“Excuse me.” Pushing between them, I advance toward the bar, ready to down a bottle of whiskey. I don’t turn to give them a chance to see my face before the doors close when I’m already twenty yards away.
I don’t trust the bastard.
As I stride through the doors to the bar, a few heads turn my way. I keep moving and find a stool, ignoring the hum of a foreign language. The mirrored wall behind the bar is lined with some of the finest wine on the planet.
The bartender, I assume, asks me for my order.
“Blanton’s. Double, on the rocks.” I pause. “Doppio.”
“Sì.”He pours the whiskey on ice and slides the glass to me. “American?”
“Sì,”I repeat.
“East or West Coast?”
“West. Los Angeles.”
“Ah. Are you charging to your room, signore?”
“No.” I pull out my card, ready to pay. There is a quarter of the bottle remaining. “I’ll pay for the rest if you could leave it here.”
“Certainly, signore. What brings you to Rome?”
“A story similar to others.” He slides the glass to me, and I take a sip, relish the burn as the liquid slides down my throat. “A girl who owns my heart.”
He watches me for a moment. “Does this girl know you’re here?” he asks in broken English.
I peer into my glass. “She does.”
“Then why the sad eyes with such a handsome face?”
I choke. I should be flattered.
“There’s an ex trying to win her back.” Win. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate losing, so I need a game plan to make sure I don’t fucking lose. “What’s the most romantic thing to do in Rome?”
He considers my question. “Serenade her beneath her balcony.”
I cough and inhale my whiskey. “Sing?” I choke out, wiping my mouth. “I don’t want to scare her, or anyone, for that matter.”
“Sì.”He wipes his hands with a towel. “Walk with her, always holding her hand. Buy her flowers along the way. Take her to dinner and pay for a private violinist.”
Giana has lived here, so tourist places are out. “Do you recommend any specific restaurants?”
“Sì.”He pauses and glances over my shoulder. His lips part as though he is transfixed by something. I swivel on the stool just as a gentle hand lands on my shoulder.
“I thought I would find you here,” Giana says in a soft voice. “Whiskey?” Her brows pull together. “You know we’re in Italy, right?”
I lean in and kiss those lips, pulling back to admire my girl. Her hair is swept off her shoulders and pinned on her head with a loose curl here and there. Her makeup is perfect, her brown eyes capturing my attention as well as the attention of every other person nearby.
“You look stunning.” I kiss her again and, with an arm around her waist, pull her close to me.
She flutters her long lashes and lowers her gaze. “Thank you.”
She doesn’t believe it?“Giana, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I can’t take my eyes off you.”
“Stop it.” She leans on my shoulder playfully and smiles at the bartender. “How many has he had?”
“One glass, signora. He does not lie.” He looks at me. “Bellissima.”
“She is beautiful,” I agree with him and kiss her forehead.
“As much as I would love to stay and chat, I need to dress. Isabella and Dante are waiting for me. The limo will be here soon.”
“Is there a ticket for me?”
Giana tilts her head. “I’m sorry, Byron. But as soon as the formality is over, I’ll leave. I don’t need to eat. I’ll come straight back. I’d love to take you to see my villa, but it’s almost a five-hour drive from here…” She pauses. “So please don’t drink any more if you intend to drive.”
Nothing would please me more than to get her far away from Dante.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I haven’t even asked when you’re leaving?”
“Monday. Three in the morning.” I take her hand. “I don’t need to sleep between now and then.” Thank fuck I have a first-class seat on the return flight. I turn to the bartender. “Can I take this?”
He hands me the lid to the bottle. “Godetevi tutto.” He flashes a smile at Giana.
“Lo farò,”she says and beams her killer smile at him. She takes the bottle and places it in her handbag.
“Grazie,”I tell him, and slide off the stool, taking Giana’s hand as we head toward the elevator. “What did you say to him?”
“He said for you to enjoy it all, and I said he will.” She bumps her hip with mine. “If you’d finished the bottle, you might have ruined my plans for us.” The elevator doors close.
Us.
“I’m sorry I have to rush away,” she says. “I’ll throw some things in a bag when we’re upstairs. I’ll call you after the formalities, and when you arrive, I’ll come out, and we can go on a road trip tonight.” Her voice is filled with excitement for just one night to share with me where she has lived for the years she was missing from my life.
“Throw what you need on the bed. I’ve plenty of time to sort out a suitcase, although…” I kiss her on the lips before the doors open, “… you won’t need to wear a damn thing.”
She giggles against my lips. “Byron. We need to eat. I want to show you some of my favorite places, and we can’t do that naked.”
The doors open, and Giana quickens her pace toward her room. She opens the door and heads to the cupboard, throwing multiple pieces of clothing and a bathing suit on the bed. She then strips, and fuck, I wish we had more time. She changes into a navy thong and removes her bra. What the fuck?
Giana steps into a navy gown.
Strapless.
Large, white magnolias cling to her every curve from her chest to her toes. She holds the dress to her breasts. “Could you zip me up?”
I zip up her dress, watching her golden skin disappear beneath the fabric. She adjusts her breasts to fit under the material with enough flesh protruding over the top in perfect molds.
I cannot take my eyes off her.
“Do you have to leave now?”
She runs a palm over her long, bare neck. “Byron,” she whispers.
I clear my throat. “Go and have fun. Kill it, Gigi. You deserve this. My dick will get over it.”
She laughs. “Just a few more hours, I promise.” She sprays perfume on her pulse points. “Can you arrange our plans for tomorrow night?”
“It will be my pleasure.”
She slips on her heels, grabs her purse, reaches up and kisses me, then rushes out the door.
I have twenty-four hours to make this romantic. Before packing up our belongings, I google florists close to the venue. While I have a list of things to do before we meet up—securing a rental car should be a priority, not freaking florists—I’ll go crazy waiting, knowing Dante will not be able to keep his eyes off Giana.
I stare at the bottle of Blanton’s. Fucking hell.