Page 11 of Empire of Temptation

“That makes sense. I think my father’s side is from near Naples, but I’m not entirely sure.”

He didn’t say anything, merely drank his wine, but I could feel his eyes on me as I continued to eat. When I finished my pasta, he swapped out my empty plate with his untouched one. I frowned at him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“No, signorina. You eat it.” He waved his hand then poured himself more wine.

I wasn’t shy, not about food. If he didn’t want it, then the pasta was fair game. And it was too good to let it go to waste.

Digging in, I twirled another forkful. “Why are you in Paesano? Do you have family here?”

“I’m here for business.”

Now the suit made sense. “What kind of business?” I kept eating, trying to appear casual, like I wasn’t fishing for information when I totally was.

“Meetings.” He waved his hand again, the silver watch on his wrist gleaming in the soft overhead lighting. “Nothing exciting, I’m afraid.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I rented a house on the river.”

“Wow, that must be cool. There are some really nice houses up there. I suppose that’s better than staying at Anne’s Bed and Breakfast in town.”

“I prefer my privacy.”

Something about the way he said it, a low husky, suggestive tone, caused me to glance up at him. Our eyes met and I swore a little arc of heat jumped between us. My breath caught and I couldn’t look away from his intense dark stare. At this particular moment, he was watching me like I washisplate of delicious pasta. My mouth went dry and I could feel my pulse racing.

Was he hitting on me?

The idea seemed ludicrous. But that stare . . . it could melt ice from across the room.

Because I had zero chill, I blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m not going home with you tonight.”

Chapter Four

Luca

Valentina Montella was a fucking knockout.

Dark glossy hair swirled past her shoulders, and her tits filled out the white silk blouse she wore. A long pencil skirt and heels showcased her long legs. She had a wide mouth with plush lips, and flawless features that needed little to no makeup. This was the kind of woman you both wanted to show off in publicandnever let leave your bed.

I hadn’t expected it. Based on what I remember of Flavio Segreto, I assumed his daughter would be . . . less attractive than this.

And the way she looked at me? Curious. Interested. Most women in my country knew enough to recognize a dangerous man, but Valentina was letting me serve her wine and get her alone. Ma dai, these Americans. No sense. If she were my woman, a man like me wouldn’t get within five meters of her.

Did I want to take her home tonight? Fuck, yes.

But for many reasons, I couldn’t. So I needed to stop fantasizing about all the ways I’d like to defile this beautifulgirl.

“This is not why I stayed and made you dinner,” I said calmly.

“Oh.” She looked down and twirled another forkful of pasta.

“And you are too young for me,” I added. More for myself than for her, to be honest.

“Why, how old are you?”

“Too old.”

Thirty-eight, but a number meant nothing when it came to age. What mattered was life experience, and I’d lived a hundred years as Don Benetti. I was a murderer, a drug trafficker. The head of a criminal empire that stretched across Italia and Europe. The things I’ve done and seen would horrify most regular people. I didn’t want to answer to a wife, and I didn’t want to put anyone at risk. It was why I hadn’t married, why Iwouldn’tmarry.

---