Sicilian's Bride For A Price. Tara Pammi

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       CHAPTER TWO

      OF COURSE THE infuriating man couldn’t simply text her the name of the hotel when he’d ordered her to dress appropriately, Ali thought, as the black Mercedes weaved through the heavy traffic, leaving the bustle of the city behind.

      But having known Dante since the age of twelve, Ali had made a guess.

      Dante was a man who expected, no, demanded the best of everything in life. He had a reputation for being a perfectionist with his employees but then no one complained because he rewarded hard work and ambition. God, she’d really gone looking for reasons to hate him back then.

      The luxury Mercedes pulled smoothly into the courtyard of the latest on-trend, five-star resort that had been renovated last year to look like it could proudly belong in any posh European city, with the boat-filled canals of the Chao Phraya river offering a lovely view. The seafood at the restaurant was to die for, Mak had informed her, and he’d heard it from one of his many connections in high places.

      Okay, so the worst thing that could come of this meeting was that she could walk away having had a delicious dinner at a lovely restaurant. And to prove to Dante that she could fake class and poise with the best of them.

      She smoothed her hand over her stomach as she stepped out of the car and was pleased with the light pink sheath dress that she’d chosen to calm the butterflies. In the guise of studying the hotel’s striking exterior, she took a moment to study herself in the reflection of the glass facade.

      Her long hair, freshly washed and blow-dried to within an inch of its life, fell to her waist like a dark silky curtain, her only jewelry a thin gold chain with a tiny diamond disappearing into the low V-neck of her dress. The linen dress was a cheap knockoff of a designer brand she couldn’t afford on her erratic income. But she looked like a million bucks, the fabric clinging to every dip and rise of her toned body as if it were custom designed for her.

      The light pink was set off perfectly against her dusky skin and she’d let Kiki do her makeup—smoky eyes, gold bronzer and pale pink lip gloss. Tonight, she would be the sophisticated, poised Ali her mother had raised her to be, even if it killed her.

      Another glance at the financial papers of her mother’s charity hadn’t changed reality. Other than a huge influx of cash, there was nothing anyone could do to save it. So, if Dante had something that could help, Ali would listen. She would treat this as a meeting with a professional.

      Her beige pumps click-clacked on the gleaming cream marble floor as she walked up to the entrance to the restaurant. Soft yellow light fell from contemporary chrome fixtures. Beige walls and cream leather chairs gave the restaurant an utterly decadent, romantic atmosphere. Her belly swooped as Ali caught sight of Dante’s bent head, the thick jet-black hair glittering in the lights.

      Gripping her clutch tighter, Ali looked around. Every other table was empty. She checked her knockoff watch and saw it was only seven in the evening, nowhere near closing time.

      The setting was far too intimate, far too private. Just far too much a scene plucked right out of her adolescent fantasies. But before she could turn tail and run out of the restaurant, that jet-black gaze caught her.

      The mockery in those eyes made Ali straighten her shoulders and put one foot in front of the other.

      He stood up when she reached their booth—a cocoon of privacy in an already silent restaurant. He’d exchanged the white shirt for a slate-gray one that made his eyes pop. With his jaw freshly shaved, thick dark hair slicked back half-wet, he was so...no, handsome was a lukewarm word for Dante’s fierce masculinity.

      The scent of his aftershave, with an aqua note to it, was subtle, but combined with the warmth of his skin, it sank into Ali’s pores. Every cell in her body came alive.

      “Where is everybody?”

      “Everybody?” he said, standing far too close for her sanity.

      Ali sat down with a plop, hand smoothing over her stomach. “Yes, people. Other Homo sapiens. Who might want to partake of the delicious food I’ve heard they serve here.”

      There was no mockery now when he looked down at her.

      Heat swarming her cheeks, Ali ran her fingers through her hair. “What?”

      His gaze swept over her face, her hair, the low V-neckline, but went no farther down. A shiver clamped her spine. “You clean up nice.”

      “Oh.” The one syllable hung in the air, and she looked away, pretending to smooth her dress, putting her clutch down.

      He took his sweet time sitting down, not opposite her, but on the side of the table, to her left. Ali shifted her knees away to the far right.

      “If you scoot any farther down, you’ll fall off the seat. Why are you so jumpy?”

      Ali stilled, clasped her restless fingers in her lap. “I’m not.”

      “No? Really?”

      His accent got thicker any time he got a little emotional. It was one of the tells Ali had picked up a long time ago. Pulling herself together, she met his gaze. Did he really have no idea what being near him did to her equilibrium? Did he really not feel the charge in the air around them, the pulse of undercurrents in every word, every look...? God, how was it that she was the only one who felt so much?

      Not that she wanted Dante to be attracted to her. Her shoulders shook as a shiver of another kind traveled down her spine.

      “If you’re jumpy around me, it means СКАЧАТЬ