Seduced by the Heir. Pamela Yaye

watch her sway and groove to the music, he could see why.

      Rafael glowered menacingly at the cocksure businessmen, who were speaking in rapid-fire Italian. His hands balled into tight fists and his heartbeat thundered inside the walls of his chest. The men were discussing how to lure Paris into bed, and even joked about filming the encounter and posting it online. Their conversation was none of his business, but Rafael felt compelled to say something. Had to before he lost his temper and pummeled them both into the ground.

      Rafael spoke to the men in an authoritative voice, and scowled for good measure

      Back off, fellas. The lady’s with me? his conscience repeated. How original!

      “W-we’re sorry,” stammered the man with the mustache. “We didn’t mean any disrespect. We were just joking around.”

      The two took off through the side door, and Rafael sighed in relief. Crisis averted. Nothing wrong with telling a little white lie, he decided, tasting his coffee. It was either that or lose Paris to someone else, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. Rafael didn’t want anyone to ruin his chances with her—

      Your chances of what? his conscience questioned.

      Paris must have sensed him behind her, because she glanced over her shoulder, then hit him with a pointed look. But when she spoke her tone was rife with amusement. “See anything you like?”

      Do. I. Ever! His mouth watered and his temperature soared. The view of her big, beautiful backside made an erection swell inside his jeans. Her eyes lit up like stars when she laughed, and she smelled sweeter than the desserts inside the pastry shop. “The truffles look good,” he said casually, gesturing at the wall behind her. “I think I might get a few packages for my soon-to-be-sister-in-law. Angela loves chocolate almost as much as she loves Demetri!”

      “So, the rumors are true.” Paris dropped her cell phone inside her purse and gave him her undivided attention. “Your brothers found love, and are both getting married next year. How exciting! Is it a double wedding? When are they tying the knot? Where is the venue?”

      His jaw stiffened like clay, but he managed a weak smile. He didn’t want to talk about his brothers or their future wives. Not here, not now. But if he changed the subject Paris would think he was rude. Or worse, jealous, and he wasn’t.

      Rafael averted his gaze and raked a hand over his hair. He tried not to think about how lonely he was, how empty he felt inside. These days he hardly saw his brothers, and when he did they droned on and on about their fiancées. Especially Nicco. He was the worst perpetrator. He adored Jariah and her six-year-old daughter, Ava, and over the past three months the trio had developed a strong bond, one he talked about nonstop. At times it was funny, endearing even, but at other times it got on Rafael’s nerves.

      He was happy his brothers had found their soul mates, but he didn’t want to discuss their love lives. He was dying to know more about Paris—where she lived, what she did for work, if she was dating anyone—and he didn’t want to waste time chatting about wedding nonsense. “I’m the wrong person to ask. I don’t even remember when the wedding is, and I’m the best man!” he joked good-naturedly.

      “Are you sure Nicco’s ready to get married?”

      Her question surprised him, gave him pause. “Yeah, why?”

      “Because I was at the grand opening of Dolce Vita Atlanta and he was flirting with everybody!”

      Rafael chuckled. “He wasn’t engaged back then. Jariah started working for Morretti Incorporated last summer, and apparently they hit it off immediately. Nicco says it was love at first sight, but the jury is still out on that one!”

      “So do you like her?”

      “Yes, of course.” He thought back to the first time he’d met Jariah, and cringed inwardly when he remembered the unflattering things he’d said about her to Nicco. His brother had always had horrible taste in women, and he’d feared that Jariah was another gold digger. Thankfully, she wasn’t, and the more time Rafael spent with the hardworking single mother, the more he admired her. “Any more questions, Katie Couric?”

      “Excuse me for trying to make conversation,” she said with a laugh. “I was surprised to see you get on the tour bus this morning. Aren’t you supposed to be doing business in Tuscany?”

      Rafael wore a puppy dog face. “You’re keeping tabs on me. I’m touched.”

      More laughter passed between them.

      “My meeting was pushed back to Monday, so I decided to join the group,” he explained, admiring her radiant brown skin. “Why are you hiding out in here? You’re supposed to be at the bell tower with everyone else.”

      Paris picked up her wicker basket, slipped her hand inside a white package and tossed a chocolate-covered cashew into her mouth. “I got hungry.”

      “You always did like your sweets.”

      “Still do,” she quipped. “Cassandra forced me to go on the soup diet with her, and if she finds out I cheated she’ll go ballistic, so don’t tell her you saw me in here, okay?”

      “I won’t tell a soul. Your secret is safe with me.”

      Paris walked over to the cash register, unloaded her items on the marble counter and paid the cashier. Seconds later, she joined him at the entrance of the store. “What’s your story?” she asked, slipping on her oversize Givenchy sunglasses. “Why did you ditch the group?”

      Because I want to be alone with you, he thought, but didn’t say. It was too much too soon, and he didn’t want to scare her off. Not when they were enjoying each other’s company. To keep the mood light, he said, “I got tired of Cassandra’s foster mom hitting on me, so I decided to make a break for it when she wasn’t looking!”

      Paris cracked up. The sound of her high-pitched giggles bolstered his confidence. He couldn’t have scripted a better reunion.

      “It was great talking to you, Rafael. See you around!” she said suddenly, walking closer to the door.

      He caught her arm just as she was about to breeze past him, and slid in front of the door to prevent her from leaving. “Where are you rushing off to?”

      A frown touched her lips, marring her pretty features, but she didn’t speak. His body was a raging inferno and his impulse to kiss her was so strong it consumed him. He wet his lips with his tongue, moved closer. “Don’t go.” His voice sounded foreign to his ears, a lot huskier than it had ever been. “I’ll escort you to the bell tower.”

      “I’m not going there. The group is slowing me down, and I have tons of shopping to do.”

      An idea came to him, and a lie fell smoothly from his lips. “You have to shop and I have to shop, so we might as well knock it out together.”

      “Are you sure your paramour won’t mind? I don’t want to create any problems at home.”

      I’m not interested in Julietta. I’m interested in you.

      “You guys looked awfully cozy last night,” Paris continued. “And she’s also made it very clear to the bridal party that you’re off-limits.”

      “Paris, I’m single, and there’s no special woman in my life, but if you feel uncomfortable hanging out with me, then...”

      Her frown deepened. “Why would I be uncomfortable?”

      “Because we had a messy breakup.”

      “Yeah, like twenty years ago,” she scoffed, giving him a funny look. “We dated when we were kids. It didn’t mean anything. I moved on and so did you. No hard feelings.”

      Listening to Paris downplay their relationship hurt like hell, but Rafael held his tongue. Besides, she was right. They’d dated eons ago, and living in the past was a waste of time. “So, you don’t mind if I tag along? I promised my dad I’d buy him a case of Italian cigars,