Bought With The Italian's Ring. Tara Pammi

up short.

      If she was innocent... He could hardly bear thinking about the hordes of hungry, young, single Milanese men that would descend on her... Just tonight, it had taken every ounce of the force of his ruthless reputation to beat off the men who had wanted to follow her.

      Men who’d have stood in his place right now and watched moonlight sparkle in her eyes, seen the wet swimsuit cling to her toned, lithe body, seen the artless display of grief and joy that came into her eyes when she spoke of Lucia and Giovanni.

      “If I have to carve a million toys to pay Giovanni back, I will,” she said with a fierce pride shining in her eyes.

      He hardened his tone. “Even if you’re telling the truth, I can’t just let you walk away without making sure that you’ve not crushed his heart,” he added for good measure.

      Her soft sigh pinged over his nerves. Did she know how arousing that was? Did she even realize that the sight of her big, searching gaze, the way she stared at a man as if she meant to see through to his soul, could do things to a man she might not want?

      “Why do you think I agreed to that—” she pointed to the house now cloaked in dark shadows “—ridiculous show? Telling Gio about Frank probably wasn’t a good idea. All those men he invited, the way they were crowding around me... I didn’t realize his intentions until you pointed out how much attention I was getting. Clearly, he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

      He’d been cruel to taunt her like that. Not that he was off the mark. But there was also an attraction to her that was rare. It was disturbing to think of her coming up against the men who only saw her as a ticket to their life’s fortune. “Can you?”

      “Even if I can’t, the last thing I want is help from a man like you,” she bit out, stepping back from him.

      He raised a brow. “A man like me?”

      “My experience with Frank taught me a valuable lesson. My so-called boyfriend that couldn’t dump me fast enough when the money dried up. You’re just like him—gorgeous, confident, arrogant—except a million times more. The women—they couldn’t get enough of you even when you barely glanced in their direction. And the men were so eager to please you, wanting to be like you.

      “You...exert your power or charm, or whatever the hell it is, over everyone you meet. You wield it to bend people to your will. Someone like me, you’ll use my attraction to you to put me in my place, to prove that you’re right no matter what the truth is. To prove that I’m somehow less because I’m not everything you are. Accusations that have no basis in truth, I can handle. But you mock who I am and that I won’t forgive.”

      He felt as if she’d punched him, because it was exactly what he had thought of her. “Someone like you?” He repeated her words to hide his reaction.

      Pain streaked through her eyes. The depth of her emotions, the sheer transparency of them was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

      “A shy, plain, boring elementary teacher who knows nothing about men.” She repeated the words as if by rote, and suddenly he knew in his bones who had said them to her. “First you’ll use it to dig into me to figure out if I’m telling the truth.

      “Then you’ll use my lack of sophistication to persuade Gio that he’s right and that I need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap because I’m too naive, too foolish. That I’ll somehow bring someone like Frank into this...kingdom of yours.

      “I don’t care whether you believe me or not. Just stay away from me. We don’t have to see each other for you to make sure that I’m not fleecing Gio, do we?”

      Her slender shoulders straight, the line of her spine a graceful curve, she looked like a water nymph. Leaving Raphael spellbound in more than one way.

      If she was a con woman, he’d see her in jail. But if she was indeed Gio’s granddaughter, she was absolutely forbidden to him.

      Even if it was the most real conversation he’d had with a woman. Ever.

       CHAPTER THREE

      STAY AWAY FROM ME.

      Pia’s words followed him as Raphael walked around the estate and made sure the staff put every last inebriated or otherwise high-flying guest into their vehicles. He bid the tired staff to their beds after they put the ballroom to rights.

      He didn’t know if Gio thought the ball successful but Raphael thought it had been sensational.

      Whoever Pia was, she’d meant those words. His accusations had hurt her, but it was the other thing she’d said that pricked him even now.

      You mock who I am.

      Had he mocked her because with her naive views and long sighs she’d seemed like an impossibility? Or had he mocked her because he resented that innocence, those stars in her eyes?

      Because he’d never had a chance to be like that.

      He was about to call it a night and settle into one of the spare bedrooms, as he sometimes did, when he spied the master of puppets.

      Scowling, he followed Giovanni into his study and closed the door behind him with a loud thud.

      Giovanni handed Raphael a glass of red. As if he’d known that his godson wouldn’t leave without this talk.

      “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Raphael said as Giovanni plopped down onto the sofa with a long sigh. Because of his agile mind and his penchant for playing games, Raphael sometimes forgot that Gio was old. His wrinkled hands shook as he lifted the glass to his mouth.

      “You’re far too excited, Giovanni. This is not good—”

      “What do you think of my new granddaughter?”

      Knowing that he wouldn’t get a word in until they talked about Pia, Raphael shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d custom ordered her at a store.”

      The old man frowned. “What? Why?”

      Raphael stared into his drink. But it was the long fluid line of Pia’s back, the drop of water that had run down her damp skin that he saw. The outrage in her eyes when he’d accused her. The hurt when he’d called her naive and meek.

      “Raphael?” Gio prodded.

      “She fits your requirements for a granddaughter a little too perfectly, don’t you think?”

      A sneaky smile twitched around Gio’s lips. “So you admit that she is perfect.”

      Raphael raked his fingers through his hair, frustration and something else—no, not something else. It was lust pounding at him. Lust that had never seemed so complicated or so fierce before. And the last thing he needed was for Gio to scent how attracted he was to Pia.

      “I don’t mean it that way. An innocent, shy, clearly out of her depth orphan who travels across the world searching for her legacy, searching for her grandmother’s lover... Damn it, Gio, you’ve always been desperate for a child, for someone to love. She’s the perfect lure to tug at your heartstrings.”

      “She’s nothing like my fiery Lucia—”

      “Or her manipulative grandfather, if you’re truly that,” he added.

      “Si. She’s young and sweet. I feel as if the burden of looking after Lucia was too much for her. No wonder that man preyed on her.”

      Raphael scowled. “Did you even check the legitimacy of her claim before you advertised her to all of Milan with her inheritance hung around her neck like a sign?”

      Gio frowned as the meaning sank in. “I have no doubt that she’s Lucia’s and my granddaughter.”

      “Excuse me if I save my teary-eyed approval for later.”

      “You have become a hardened