Reckless Nights in Rome

  Chapter Three

  Nico refused to rise to the bait.

  Exhaustion nibbling at his temper made his tone hard as he opened the passenger door.

  "Get in."

  Bronte ignored him and purred low in her throat, which did strange things to his libido. Brushing snow from the bonnet with her fingertips, emerald eyes sparkled into his with a mix of challenge and ill humour.

  "Very shiny. Very smooth. You have the need for speed in all things, I hear."

  He wasn't in the mood for this. "You were not spanked enough as a child, were you?"

  She merely raised a brow. "So we've moved on from manhandling to physical violence have we?"

  Snow settled on the shoulders of her jacket and the wind whipped colour into those smooth cheeks as she shivered.

  Nico sent up a prayer for patience. "Get in."

  Someone listened, because she slid in without a murmur.

  He closed the door, stalked around to the driver's side and told himself to keep calm.

  As he clicked his seatbelt into place Bronte gave a little shimmy of her shoulders and another deep purr in her throat that had him catch his breath.

  "Hmm, it smells terribly expensive in here. If you bottled the scent of Bentley leather, you would make another fortune. Your many businesses must be doing well."

  He rolled his tongue over his bottom teeth. "You are trying to make me angry, Bronte, and I am wondering why."

  She merely crossed endless legs, making herself comfortable. Nico wondered what was wrong with him that he found the move incredibly sexy.

  "It's not a mystery. I don't like you."

  "You do not know me."

  "I don't like your type."

  "You judged me before you met me?"

  "Not fair, is it?" she stated, her eyes glittering with temper.

  Baffled, he stared at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

  Her nostrils flared and that chin lifted. "Bronte Ludlow is a spoilt prima donna who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Alexander is worried sick about her. It is one drama after another."

  At any other time her droll mimic of his accent might have been highly entertaining. The conversation was one he'd had with his architect and good friend on his Blackberry. With a frown, he remembered ducking into a cavernous loft space at Ludlow Hall to take the call in private.

  Bronte continued, "I was in a storeroom, packing personal possessions. I didn't see you, but I heard every word, Mr Ferranti."

  Nico remembered Alexander had been beside himself. "I was concerned about your brother, Bronte."

  She continued as if he hadn't spoken. "What particular drama were you referring to?"

  Nico couldn't really blame her for being angry, so he made a clean breast of it.

  "You had broken your engagement." He frowned into those beautiful eyes, green, feline and filled to the brim with utter loathing for him. "Apparently the man was a bastard."

  ?? ?"Yes, the world appears to be full of them."

  He received the message loud and clear, the little witch.

  With the flick of a wrist, he turned on the engine.

  "Ooh, it sounds like a grumpy tiger," she squealed in a high, girly voice. A low growl escaped from his throat and she grinned. "Yeah, exactly like that."

  He closed his eyes and sent up another prayer.

  ?

  As the Bentley cruised out of Ludlow Hall, Nico glanced at her as she stared moodily into the road ahead, lit by the car's powerful headlights.

  Her behaviour was a disgrace. Something about him appeared to bring out the bitch in her. His lips twitched as he observed her frown into the darkness.

  When he'd lifted her from the window and his hands spanned her waist, he'd recognised the stirring in his loins for what it was. Lust. God knew she would be a handful. The thought made him smile. It had been a long time since a woman had stirred his interest or presented such a challenge. These days he didn't need to work very hard to capture a woman and he wondered if that was why he was in the middle of a lengthy dry spell.

  The windscreen wipers batted fat snowflakes in a silent rhythm. Clearing his throat, he gave into temptation and smoothed her glossy pony tail.

  He caught her eye. "Stop worrying."

  "Excuse me?"

  A sizzle of awareness warmed his blood. Not many people used that tone with him and got away with it.

  He stroked her hair again. "You look as if I am going to eat you."

  He loved the way she narrowed her eyes and flared her nostrils.

  Staring determinedly into the road ahead, she told him, "Self-delusion is a curse, isn't it? You are not the centre of the known universe, Mr Ferranti. In fact, I do my level best not to think of you."

  He laughed; delighted to see it brought a reluctant twitch to her lips.

  ?"Why have we never met?" He kept his voice soft and the tone teasing.

  She flicked him a cool look. "Just my good luck, I suppose."

  The girl had courage, he'd give her that. "The kitten has sharp claws."

  His eyes were on the road and he swung the car into the entrance of her property.

  "I'm twenty-six years old, hardly a kitten, Mr Ferranti." Her arctic tone only whetted his appetite.

  He brought the car to a halt. Subtle night lights lit the grounds and entrance porch.

  He turned to her and absently toyed with her ponytail.

  It felt all soft and silky. "You do not look it. Your colouring is quite different from your brother."

  ?

  The look in Nico's eye reminded Bronte of a starving cat staring at a mouse hole.

  "I take after my mother." With a dark look, she flicked her hair out of his hand. Alexander's hair was a rich chestnut, although they shared eye colour and, Bronte thought as a sharp blade pierced her heart, the same mother. But this was neither the time nor the place to think of that.

  It appeared Nico Ferranti had a problem with respecting personal space too, she realised as he leaned towards her, his eyes keen on her face. "Yes, she was a beautiful woman, almost as beautiful as her daughter."

  The genuine regret in his voice brought a lump to Bronte's throat as he took her hand. Grief, still horribly fresh, coursed through her. She closed her eyes tight and fought for control.

  "I am sorry," Nico said, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "I did not mean to upset you. I understand you were close."

  Bronte opened her eyes and stared straight ahead into the night. The one thing she simply could not tolerate was pity.

  Nico gently squeezed her hand and she nodded, closing her eyes again to steady herself. There was no way she could permit this man to get under her skin. Again he was playing with her hair and she resisted the crazy urge to crawl into his lap, bury her face into his neck and stay there. As ever, she was allowing her emotions to rule instead of using her head. The only thing Nico Ferranti wanted was her home and she'd better not forget it.

  She turned and gave him a level look, not in the mood for games.

  "Flirting, Mr Ferranti? Let's stop tap dancing around the subject shall we?" And she caught the surprise in his eyes before he hooded his lids. He had amazing lashes she mused, long and thick.

  Cool now, his eyes met hers.

  He drew back to study her face.

  "Nico, it is my name, please use it." The tone made it a command rather than a request. Ah yes, the gloves were off Bronte realised, ignoring the increasing flutter of nerves in her stomach.

  Here was the real man.

  Bronte recognised raw male power when she saw it and the force of a strong will when she felt it. Nico would be a formidable adversary. Well, she was no pushover either. Exasperation with him made her tone hard.

  "The Dower House is not for sale, Mr Ferranti."

  She caught the quick flash in those eyes before his finger tipped up her chin. Her gasp of alarm narrowed his eyes, the finger traced the hectic pulse in her neck, and his smile reminded her forcibly of a gre
at white shark.

  For the first time, Bronte realised she may have overstepped the mark. Her throat tightened, saliva dried in her mouth as she pushed his hand away.

  "Everything and everyone has a price," he told her.

  Struck speechless by his arrogance, she stared at him. Was it not enough for him to turn her home into a hotel? Now he wanted the only link she had left to her family? Nico Ferranti, she decided, needed a major boot in the ass.

  Bronte rarely lost her temper, although you wouldn't know it by her lack of control this evening. A hot stinging sensation in her eyes along with the tight feeling in her chest warned her she was ready to blow.

  She made a fist and he gripped her wrist.

  "Let go of me." She spat the words and stared at him with wide eyes.

  Too late, Nico realised he held a hissing cat by the tail.

  Bronte's emerald eyes flashed and her full bottom lip trembled with outrage.

  He must be more tired than he thought. Crossing three time zones had obviously influenced his ability to control himself. True, she'd got to him by calling him Mr Ferranti in such a precise tone. Although why it annoyed him so much, he couldn't say.

  When he'd plucked her from certain injury and held her close, the unique scent of neroli mingled with warm female, along with the impact of those big eyes and her smile, had thrown him. He must be tired he decided, because no woman had ever affected him in this way.

  The condoms she carried and her embarrassment intrigued him too. She had an air of refinement and exuded pure class. He couldn't imagine someone with her style would need a blind date or consider a fling with one. This just went to show that looks could be deceptive.

  But when that chin and those eyes had issued a direct challenge, it would take a stronger man than him to resist.

  Bronte's soft wide mouth was sheer temptation and the urge to take swept over him. Only the cloud of vulnerability in her eyes held him back. And she was not a coward. No woman of his acquaintance would dare speak to him the way Bronte did. She had been through enough this evening at the hands of another.

  ?He fought to keep his tone level, his voice soothing without taking his eyes off hers.

  "What happened this evening, Bronte?"

  Her brows drew together at his change of subject.

  His thumb rubbed the hectic pulse under the soft skin of her wrist and she winced in pain.

  With a frown, he pulled up the sleeve of her jacket, sweater and switched on the interior lights. The livid marks had him catch his breath. Had he put those fingerprints on her skin? Never.

  Furious, his eyes captured hers. "He did this?"

  She blinked up at him like an owl. The angry expression on her face vanished to be replaced by one of genuine distress. It made him want to hold her tight, to offer comfort, to protect. Alarm pealed in his mind, Bronte Ludlow was not his concern. It must be jet lag; she had a brother to watch over her. Nico released her as if she'd burned him and leaned back.

  Rubbing her wrist, Bronte's eyes glittered into his.

  "He put his hands where they weren't wanted and paid the price. You would do well to remember that, Mr Ferranti."

  The girl, he realised with admiration, didn't know when to give in.

  "I understand you're supplying the wedding cake tomorrow."

  "Yes," she told him, those green eyes too watchful now and too wary. "A little hobby of mine. I fit it in between peeling the grapes I eat with my silver spoon." Nico almost smiled when she frowned in a way he was beginning to find adorable. She continued, "What has that got to do with anything?"

  He wasn't above using subtle intimidation in business or in his personal life.

  "If you want to keep the contract, I suggest you mind your manners, Ms Ludlow."

  Stunning emerald eyes glittered into his. Nico found himself taken aback by her reaction. Was that a smirk on her beautiful face?

  "Are you threatening me, Mr Ferranti?" Shoulders back, she looked down her nose as if he was a bad smell. It was a unique experience and Nico found he did not care for it.

  Seriously annoyed now, he leaned forward and was small enough to feel satisfaction when she retreated against the door. He almost touched a finger to the frantic pulse in her neck, and then changed his mind. After a decent night's sleep, he would deal with Bronte Ludlow tomorrow.

  "Alexander will be in Europe for four weeks and you will deal with me. I don't care if you are his sister. I expect only the best from my contractors."

  Giving him a look that would melt solid steel, Bronte opened the door and got out.

  Then she leaned into the car with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

  "I look forward to working with you, Mr Ferranti," she said in a silky voice before closing the car door.

  As he drove back to Ludlow Hall, Nico knew he had not come out the winner this evening. And put it down to a lack of sleep.

  However, he wasn't too tired to make sure that Alexander dealt with Anthony in a proper and fitting manner. Nico was looking forward to meeting the man who'd put his mark on Bronte and didn't stop to ask himself why it was any business of his, or why he should care.

  The car swept into the car park of Ludlow Hall.

  Life, Nico realised with a wry smile, had just become a lot more interesting.

  ?

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