An Innocent To Tame The Italian. Tara Pammi

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      She looked up and panic threatened to overwhelm her again.

      A stranger in her apartment.

      Her sanctuary. Her only safe place from the cruel world outside. She had never even invited Vincenzo here.

      God, what a mess.

      She pushed a hand through her hair and tugged at it. Her scalp tingled, the pain dispersing the remnants of panic. She’d survived worse situations. She’d find a way out of this, too.

      First, she needed to protect herself from him. Needed to get him out of her home.

      From the trench coat he’d discarded to the crisp black suit, the cuff links at his wrists, which she’d guess to be platinum, all the way to the handmade black leather shoes he was tapping on her cheap linoleum floor—he was expensively dressed. She might not know all of Vincenzo’s background but he had expensive tastes.

      This man was no different.

      Even his jet-black haircut, carefully piled artistically at the top of his head, looked expensive, catering to the high cheekbones and forehead, sharpening those features even more. He was no mere IT officer or a hound sent to track her down.

      Even if she could get away from him, he or his higher-ups would come after her. Again. Neither could she be a fugitive for the rest of her life. And yet...the need to take control of the situation was overwhelming.

      Keeping her eyes on his lean frame lounging against the opposite wall, Nat pushed herself to her feet. Shuffling her feet, she slowly reached for the baseball bat she kept next to the bookshelf. One of the numerous things she’d been collecting to make the tiny apartment a home for Frankie.

      The wood felt solid in her hand as she lifted it.

      “Drop it, Ms. Crosetto,” he said in a mildly bored tone.

      She couldn’t. Not for the life of her.

      For a man who topped a couple of inches over six feet, he moved with a grace and economy she couldn’t believe. In two seconds, his lean frame was crowding her. A gasp fell from her mouth when his fingers wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to drop the bat. The thunk of it hitting the floor reverberated in the small space. With a firm grip, he pushed her arm behind her until her upper body arched toward him. Her skin tingled where he held her tightly, but not hurting her.

      Head falling back against the wall of his chest, she looked up at him.

      And the impact of the man beneath the expensive clothes hit her hard. Hit her in places she didn’t want to think about in front of him.

      Intelligence and something else glimmered in his gaze. Dark shadows hung under his penetrating gray eyes. His sharp nose had a small dent right in the middle. His mouth...wide, the bow of the upper lip carved, it was so...sexy.

      Awareness rushed in through her blood, settling into a warm throb in her lower belly. A shocking heaviness in her breasts.

      Her breaths became shallow. He stood so close that she could see the slight flare of his pupils, the harsh breath he pulled in before his fingers tightened on her wrist.

      She wouldn’t be surprised to discover he was one of those male models that seemed to have been born with the perfect bone structure. To whom everything in life came easy. Women at their feet and millions in their bank account.

      “Do not dig yourself a deeper hole, Ms. Crosetto.”

      The arrogance in his tone banished the airy lethargy in her limbs. “You’re in my home. You cornered me and intruded into my apartment. You—”

      He released her instantly. Stepped back, and Nat felt air rushing back into her lungs. “I mean you no harm. Not physically at least. Also, may I remind you that you invited me into your home. And I—” he cast a dismissive look around her living room, that upper lip turned up into a sneer “—expected to find you in something better than this hovel. Didn’t you get paid enough for the hacking job to upgrade from...this?”

      She rubbed the sensitive skin at her wrist, more to rid herself of the warmth he left behind than because of any hurt. And to stop herself from smacking the distaste off his curling mouth. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

      He sat back onto the couch, leaning his arms onto his long legs, every movement utterly masculine. And yet graceful. “How much did you get paid for taking down the firewalls at BCS?”

      “You’re mistaking me for someone else. I’m nothing but a low-level clerk at a cheap easy-loan company in Brooklyn.”

      He rubbed a long finger over his left temple. “No more lies, per favore.” His accent sent shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with fear.

      When he looked up at her, impatience swirled in his gaze. “Let’s cut through the innocent act. Now that I have your actual identity, it will take me no time at all to find your financials, every personal record, from your date of birth to how often you visit your ATM.”

      In a bare, few words that sent all her assumptions of him grounding into dust, he rattled off, step by step, the date and time to the exact second when she had bypassed his security measures and brought down the firewalls at BCS. And not as if he had learned it by rote.

      “So, you’re not just a pretty, rich boy?”

      He stilled, except for raising a brow on that gorgeous face. She could swear his eyes twinkled but then she didn’t trust herself right now. “A pretty, rich boy, huh? Remind me to tell my older brother that, sì? He’ll find it amusing.”

      Nat could only stare.

      “I don’t think you comprehend the trouble you’re in.”

      “I’m terrified at the trouble I’m in. You’ve no idea what...” She took a deep breath and pushed her shaking hands behind her. “But attacking even when you’re cornered is sometimes the only defense you’ve left in life.”

      Something like interest dawned in his eyes before he went on to outline how he’d tracked her signature to the cyber club, made contact with her. How he’d triangulated her physical location. How when he’d given her a small opening in the guise of his latest tech, she’d all but opened herself to him.

      Her foul curse rang like a gunshot.

      “It was clever. No, not clever. It was sheer genius. But you made a mistake. You—”

      “I came back a second time without masking my trail,” she finished, a knot of tension in her throat. He had her. Nicely trapped. Without doubt.

      “Yes, that. But you also shouldn’t have returned to the scene of your crime—that cyber club. Why did you?”

      She shrugged, refusing to give any more information. Like how every inch of her had been fascinated by his diabolical talent after he’d patched the tunnel she’d created. How she didn’t even really have the kind of technology on hand to pull off something like this, how even membership to the cyber club had been gained for her by Vincenzo.

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