A Moment on the Lips

chapter SIX

ON THE Monday afternoon, Carenza came back to her office with a pile of notes following a trip to a competitor’s gelateria, to discover a book smack in the middle of her desk, with a note stuck to it. More homework: analyse your sales for the last five years. What are the trends and why? Split it by outlet. Dante. His handwriting was bold and spiky and confident, like the man himself. And she was so disappointed to realise that she’d missed him.

Ha. How pathetic was she? For all she knew, he could’ve sent the book over by courier.

She emailed him swiftly.

Thank you for the book. All homework in progress.

Though first she needed to get the sales figures. Broken down by outlet.

That was when she discovered that her grandfather didn’t have everything on a computer spreadsheet, the way Amy always had at the gallery. Everything was in paper format only. Which left her with no choice; she was going to have to talk to Emilio Mancuso and ask him for the information.

He frowned when she called in to see him and made her request. ‘Why do you want to see the last five years’ figures?’

‘So I can see the trends.’

He shrugged. ‘There’s no need. I’ve looked after things for your grandfather for the last five years.’ He paused, and gave her a significant look. ‘Since he had his heart problems.’

Heart problems? What heart problems? Why didn’t she know anything about this? Though the last thing she wanted was for Mancuso to think that she’d been kept in the dark, so she kept her worries under wraps. She’d talk to her grandmother about this later.

‘I know sales have been down, but there’s really nothing to worry about. It’s just the recession, and everyone’s in the same boat.’ He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it, carissima.’

Darling? She wasn’t his darling. And he’d just used the phrase that always made her see red. Her pretty little head, indeed. Why wouldn’t men take her seriously? Was she going to have to dress in frumpy clothes, stop wearing make-up, dye her hair mouse-brown and scrape it back into a bun, and don a pair of thick glasses before anyone would notice that she did actually have a brain?

And why wouldn’t he just give her the figures and let her see them for herself? ‘Nonno’s put me in charge, and I can’t do my job unless I have all the facts,’ she said, more rudely than she’d intended, but his attitude infuriated her. ‘I can see you’re busy, Signor Mancuso, and I’d hate to disturb you unnecessarily. Just tell me where the paperwork is and I’ll find it for myself.’

He went a dull red. ‘I already told you. You don’t need to do this.’

Another refusal. Did he have something to hide? She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘If it’s a problem for you, I could always ask Nonno.’ And she had some other questions to ask her grandparents, too. Such as why they hadn’t breathed a word about her grandfather’s heart problems.

Tight-lipped, he took her through to a dusty-looking office, rummaged on a shelf and handed her several books.

‘I hope you don’t mind me taking these back to my own office.’ Before he had a chance to say he did mind, she added, ‘Of course, I’ll take great care of them. And I’ll return them personally when I’ve finished.’ And she called a taxi to take her back to her office; no way was she going to ask him to help her get the books back to her place.

But when she looked closely at the figures, it seemed to be just as Mancuso said: sales were simply dropping, year on year. Maybe her instinctive dislike of him had been wrong. Maybe he had nothing to hide after all, and he was just fed up because Nonno had handed the reins over to her instead of letting him continue to run the business.

Though surely he realised that, if Nonno had sold the business, Dante Romano would’ve brought his own management team in—maybe even taken over the reins himself, at first? So this was pretty much the same thing.

Well, she’d make her peace with him later in the week. Right now, she had more important questions to ask.

She arrived at her grandparents’ house that evening with flowers for her grandmother and some of the little marzipan fruits she knew her grandfather adored. After dinner, she insisted on helping her grandmother in the kitchen.

‘Nonna, why didn’t you tell me about Nonno’s heart problems?’ she asked softly.

Elena Tonielli looked flustered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, tesoro.’

‘Emilio Mancuso told me today. The ones Nonno had five years ago.’ She couldn’t help the hurt spilling out. ‘The ones you didn’t tell me a thing about.’

‘You were in London, cara. You were happy. We weren’t going to drag you back here.’

She bit her lip. Had her grandparents really thought that she’d need to be dragged home? ‘Nonna, you surely can’t think that you and Nonno would ever take second place in my life? If I’d known he was ill, I would’ve got on the first plane from London.’

‘And disrupted your life. I know. But you were doing so well in London and we didn’t want to worry you. Nonno’s fine.’

So had Mancuso been lying to her? ‘So are you saying Nonno didn’t have heart problems?’

‘He had chest pains, yes, but it was more of a scare than anything else.’

But it had happened five years ago, and she hadn’t had a clue about it. ‘Were you ever going to tell me?’ she asked. Her grandmother’s awkward expression told her the answer, and she closed her eyes. ‘I wish I’d never left Naples. If I hadn’t gone abroad, hadn’t been so selfish and stayed away … I should’ve come back and taken over from Nonno years ago. Like Papa would’ve done.’ They both heard the words she left unspoken: had he lived.

‘We only wanted to see you happy, tesoro,’ Elena said softly. ‘It was right you should spread your wings and see a bit of the world. And you needed to meet the English side of your family. We’d been selfish in keeping you to ourselves. We should’ve sent you over before.’

Carenza swallowed hard. ‘You weren’t selfish. You took me in, you gave me a home, gave me everything I wanted.’ They’d been in their fifties when her parents had died, and dealing with a young child on top of their own grief must’ve been such a strain on them.

‘We took you in because we loved you. And having you meant—well, it meant we still had some of Pietro. We could see him in you as you grew up.’

‘So Nonno’s been ill for the last five years?’

‘He was in hospital for less than a day,’ Elena reassured her. ‘They said it was angina and told him to take it easier, that’s all, and to use a spray under his tongue if he ever gets any more pains in his chest.’

‘Nonno, take it easy?’ she scoffed.

‘I didn’t give him a choice,’ Elena said dryly. ‘I told him I’d already lost my son and I wasn’t prepared to lose my husband. So he agreed to slow it down, delegate the business to Emilio until …’

‘Until what?’ Until she was ready to come home and take over?

Elena flapped her hand dismissively. ‘Never mind. He’s fine. Now, stop fussing or your grandfather will want to know what we’re talking about.’

‘And we don’t want to worry him and give him chest pains.’

‘Exactly.’ Elena smiled. ‘Emilio’s been so good to us. He’s done so much, never asked us for a thing.’

And now Carenza had waltzed in from London and been given the business that he’d spent the last five years looking after. No wonder he was hostile towards her: she was taking everything away from him and not giving him any credit for the work he’d put in. She made a mental note to make more of an effort with him.

‘Now, let’s go and join Nonno. And not too much business talk, please.’

‘I’m doing a good job with the gelateria, Nonna. I’m not going to let Nonno down.’

‘I know, tesoro. And it’s good to have you home.’

Carenza spent the rest of the week working hard on the SWOT analysis Dante had asked for—and trying to be pleasant to Emilio Mancuso, though he didn’t make it easy for her. And, even though she kept trying to remind herself of how much her grandparents valued him and how good he’d been to them, she still couldn’t warm to the man. What it was about him, she didn’t know, but there was definitely something. Or maybe she was just taking it out on him because her grandparents had leaned on him five years ago instead of on her, and she resented that.

She sighed. Why did it all have to be so complicated?

At half-past seven precisely on the Saturday, she knocked on the door of Dante’s office.

‘Coffee?’ he asked.

She needed more than coffee. Right now, she thought, she could do with her body weight in chocolate. Probably intravenously. But coffee would have to do. ‘Thank you.’

‘So how’s the SWOT analysis?’ he asked.

‘Getting there.’ Though she’d found it hard to concentrate. Mancuso’s revelation had shocked her and, although her grandmother had reassured her that Nonno was absolutely fine now, Carenza couldn’t get it out of her head. ‘Did you know my grandfather had heart problems, five years ago?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘No.’

‘I would’ve come home, if I’d known.’

He frowned. ‘Of course you would. That’s obvious.’

She stared at his desk. ‘My grandparents didn’t even tell me he was ill.’

‘They probably had their reasons.’

‘Nonna told me. Because I was in London, I was happy, and they didn’t want to disrupt my life.’ She looked up at him. ‘You’re right about me. I am a princess. A spoiled, selfish bitch.’

‘You’re a princess and, yes, you’ve been spoiled,’ he said softly, ‘but you’re not selfish. Well, not very,’ he amended, ‘considering your background. You’re definitely not a bitch. And you forgot to add the good points.’

‘Which are?’

‘Fishing now, Princess?’

She lifted her chin. ‘No.’

‘No?’

She sighed. ‘All right. It’s been a horrible week, right now I don’t like myself very much, and it’d be nice to have just a little bit of encouragement. People need carrots as well as sticks, you know, and a bit of praise can do wonders for someone’s morale.’

‘I’m glad you’ve worked that out.’ He sat on the edge of the desk, his dark eyes glinting. ‘OK. Your good points. You realised that you couldn’t handle the business on your own and you had the sense to find yourself a mentor instead of wading in and getting into even more of a mess. You’re not afraid of hard work. You’re quick—I don’t have to repeat myself—and you have real potential as a businesswoman because you can think outside the box. And you’re starting to think about the people who work for you as people.’ There was a teasing quirk to the corner of his mouth. ‘And you wear very, very sexy shoes.’

She glowered at him. ‘Which undercuts everything else you just said. Everything comes back to the way I look, the way I dress, and I hate that.’

He stroked her cheek. ‘Don’t be hard on yourself, Caz. That’s my job.’

She gave him a wry smile. ‘Yeah. You’ll always tell me like it is. Sorry. I know you were just teasing me and trying to cheer me up. I’m being a cow.’

‘You’re really out of sorts, tonight.’ ‘And I didn’t want to be, because Saturdays are the best day of the week.’

Because that was when she saw him? Although she didn’t say it, it was written all over her face. And he needed to be fair to her. He couldn’t let her rely on him, not emotionally. He didn’t do emotional stuff. ‘This isn’t a relationship, Princess,’ he warned softly.

‘I know. It’s about business.’

She sounded so disgruntled that he couldn’t help smiling. ‘Are you saying Saturdays aren’t enough for you?’

‘No, I have to resort to—’ She clapped a hand over her mouth, flushing. ‘Forget it.’

When she’d just been on the verge of confessing something interesting? Right now, she had his full attention. ‘Tell me what you were going to say, Princess.’

‘No.’

Her face was so expressive that he could guess exactly what was going through her head. And maybe this would take her mind off her worries. It certainly took his mind off everything else, when he was with her. He moved closer. ‘You have to resort to what?’

‘Nothing.’

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet, before whispering in her ear, ‘Carenza Tonielli, are you trying to tell me that some nights you think of me and you touch yourself?’

If she’d blushed before, that was nothing compared to now. Her face was like a beacon.

Except what had started out as teasing had suddenly turned into something else. Something that made it hard for him to breathe. It felt as if someone had just dumped him on top of Vesuvius.

‘Show me,’ he said.

She looked horrified. ‘I can’t do that in front of you!’

Oh, yes, she could—and he’d enjoy every single second of it. ‘Then pretend I’m not here.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Show me.’ It was a request, not a command. Tempting her, the way she tempted him.

‘No.’

But her voice was deeper. Huskier. Filled with the same desire he felt.

Right now, he was pretty sure they both needed this.

He took her hand, drew her middle finger into his mouth and sucked hard. Her pupils dilated and it looked as if she, too, were having problems breathing.

But he could guess why she’d gone shy on him. This was his office. Anyone could walk in. And this was something for his eyes only.

‘Let me make it easier for you,’ he said. He strode over to lock his office door and draw the blinds.

She bit her lip. ‘I know you know about …’

Her wild past. In a different country. Where nothing would get back to her grandparents. ‘Yes,’ he said softly.

‘But I’ve never …’ She shook her head.

And suddenly he knew why she was holding back. ‘You’re not a tart, Caz,’ he said, keeping his voice gentle. ‘You’re a beautiful, incredibly sexy woman, and I love the fact that you’re so responsive to me.’

‘You think I’m so uninhibited, I’d put on a show for you.’ She looked close to tears.

‘No.’ He drew her close. ‘It’s a guy thing. I love the idea that you touch yourself and think of me when I’m not with you. And right now I’m as turned on as hell.’ He shifted so that she could feel the evidence for herself. ‘I’ve got all these pictures in my head. Except they’re not enough. Not when you’re here with me. I want to see you for myself.’

He brushed a kiss against her mouth. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ve had to resort to my own right hand, too.’

‘You touch yourself and think of me?’ she whispered.

‘Yeah.’ His voice sounded rusty as he confessed to her. ‘Since you ask, in the shower, this morning.’ He paused. ‘And not just this morning, either.’

She looked shocked for a moment—and then more than a little pleased.

‘See? You’re thinking the same thing, now.’

‘I … Yes,’ she admitted.

‘This is just between you and me.’ He caught her lower lip between his. ‘I want you naked. And, yeah, I want you uninhibited. Not because I think you’re easy, but because I think you’re the most sensual woman I’ve ever met. And nobody’s ever turned me on as much as you do.’

She said nothing, but she made no protest when he peeled off her strappy top and dropped it on the floor next to her. Or when he unzipped her jeans and pushed the soft denim over her hips, easing her jeans down until they pooled at her feet. Wearing only her bra and knickers, she stood before him.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ he said, and stole another kiss. ‘So will you show me what happens when you imagine me touching you?’

She closed her eyes. For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse—and then she slid one hand between her legs. Slowly, almost shyly, she leaned back against his desk and began to stroke herself.

Dante lasted a minute, if that, before dropping to his knees in front of her, ripping off the lacy confection of her knickers—because they were in the way and he couldn’t wait to take them off properly—and copying the movements of her hand with his tongue.

She whimpered and slid her hands into his hair, urging him on.

He teased her *oris with the tip of his tongue, until he felt her knees buckle slightly. He pushed a finger inside her, gratified when she rocked her pelvis against him to draw him deeper. And then he teased her *oris a bit more, feeling her tighten round him with every stroke of his tongue. When he felt her shudder, he drew her *oris into his mouth and sucked. Hard.

‘Dante.’ His name was a tortured whisper—and he felt the convulsions rip through her. He waited until the aftershocks had died down, then straightened up.

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she said, her tone waspish.

Probably because he was still fully clothed and she was wearing one tiny bit of lace, and she was embarrassed to have lost her control completely under his touch. He grinned. ‘Of course I’m pleased with myself. You just came in my mouth.’

‘Dante!’ Again, her face turned beetroot.

He laughed. ‘I love this side of you, Caz—when you try to be a bad girl.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What do you mean, try?’

‘Because you’re not a bad girl.’

‘Even though—’

‘Forget about London. It doesn’t matter. It’s not who you are.’ He stroked her cheek. ‘And you’re so gorgeous, you drive me a little bit crazy.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘I’ve never asked anyone to do what I just asked you to do.’

It sent a thrill through Carenza, to discover that she could distract this incredibly focused man enough to make him act out of character.

And he clearly wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

She licked her lower lip. ‘Once a week isn’t enough.’

‘I know. It’s not enough for me, either.’ He gave her a hard, intense look. ‘But I still can’t offer you a relationship.’

‘I get that. I’m not going to start stamping my foot or demanding things.’

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘I bought something today. Something I think you’ll like.’

Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I’m not sure if I dare ask.’

‘You gave me a challenge, last week.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yeah.’ He gave her the most sinful smile. ‘Come upstairs with me.’

‘No way am I walking out of your office practically naked.’ She scooped up her clothes, intending to pull them on again—and then she realised what she’d been too carried away to notice before. ‘You ripped my knickers, Dante.’ And now they were completely unwearable.

‘Um, yeah. Sorry.’ Though he didn’t exactly look repentant. ‘I got impatient.’

‘Which means I have to spend the rest of the evening with no underwear.’

‘That works for me, Princess.’ He brushed a swift kiss against her mouth. ‘But I’ll buy you some new knickers to replace them, OK?’

She closed her eyes. ‘You’re really, really good at embarrassing me. And you don’t have to buy me underwear.’

‘Don’t be embarrassed. I enjoyed every second of what we just did.’ He moved closer. ‘Feel what you did to me.’

She could. And breathing was a problem again. ‘Uh.’

‘And I love it when I can silence you like that.’ He stole a kiss. ‘Come on.’

She dressed swiftly; he unlocked his office door, then locked it again behind them before letting them into his flat and leading her into his kitchen.

‘Close your eyes, Princess,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m asking you to.’ He gave her a lazy smile. ‘This is going to be fun. I promise. Trust me.’

Did she trust him? Well—yes. Otherwise that encounter in his office just now wouldn’t have happened. She knew he wasn’t going to gossip about her or make her feel bad. When she was with him, she didn’t have to worry about anything.

She closed her eyes; a moment later, she could feel something brushing against her lower lip.

‘Keep your eyes closed,’ he whispered. ‘Open your mouth.’

She couldn’t help doing what he asked.

‘Now bite.’

Her mouth was flooded with the taste of gianduja, the rich mixture of ground hazelnuts and cocoa butter that she’d loved since childhood.

‘Good?’ he asked, his voice husky.

‘Very.’

‘Better than sex, you said.’

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

‘I think I’m going to enjoy making you take that back.’ This time, his smile was positively wolfish.

It took him less than ten minutes to have her babbling that yes—oh, God, yes—sex with him was better than chocolate. And then he made her admit it all over again.

‘Good. Just so we’re clear on that,’ he said, when her third climax of the evening had died away.

He disappeared, then returned with two mugs of coffee. ‘Right. Time to tackle the SWOT analysis.’

‘Uh.’ She swallowed hard. ‘How the hell do you expect me to concentrate on business, when you just wiped every single thought out of my head?’

‘That’s what the coffee’s for, Princess.’

She blew out a breath. ‘You amaze me.’

He kissed her swiftly. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment. Even though I think it was a backhanded one. Now, focus. I want to see those notes.’

As before, Dante took Carenza home on the bike and refused to come in for coffee, saying that he had things to sort out.

But, the next day, she was gratified to discover an email from him in her inbox.

How about a mentoring session on Wednesdays as well?

He didn’t mean just mentoring, she knew that. Not after what had happened between them last night. And the fact that he wanted to see her, too … Dante had made his position clear enough, the previous night. I still can’t offer you a relationship. But Carenza had a feeling that he was definitely protesting too much. His head might be able to come up with a dozen or more reasons why he shouldn’t have a relationship with her, but his body told her another story. And maybe she could teach him that you didn’t always have to listen to your head. That there was nothing wrong with letting yourself get close to someone—that it was OK to be attracted to someone and to act on that attraction. And it was OK to lose control. Twice, now, she’d stripped for him while he’d been fully clothed and in full control throughout. It was time she evened up the balance.

Maybe, she thought, she could mentor him. Teach him to let go and have some fun.

Maybe.