His Ultimate Demand

‘Grazie.’

The sound of her mother tongue on his lips flipped her stomach with unwanted excitement. She told herself it was because she was one step further to confirming his identity but Ruby suspected it was the sheer sexiness of his voice that was the bigger factor here.

‘Prego,’ she responded automatically before she could stop herself. She bit her lip and watched him follow the movement. A deeply predatory gleam entered his eyes.

‘I want the next one in fifteen minutes.’ His gaze returned to his opponent, who looked a little paler since the last round of drinks. ‘I have a feeling I’ll be done by then. Unless you want to quit while you’re behind?’ he asked, sensual lips parted in a frightening imitation of a smile.

The older man let out a pithy response that Ruby didn’t quite catch. Two players quickly folded their cards and left.

The two men eyeballed each other, pure hatred blazing as they psychologically circled one another.

Narciso laid down his cards in a slow, unhurried flourish. His opponent followed suit with a move that was eerily similar and made Ruby frown. The connection between the two men was unmistakable but she couldn’t quite pin down why.

When the older man laughed, Ruby glanced down at his cards. She didn’t know the rules of poker, but even she guessed his cards were significant.

She held her breath. Not with so much as a twitch did Narciso indicate he’d just lost millions of dollars.

‘Give it up, old man.’

‘Mai!’ Never.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Narciso calmly laid down another set of cards that won him the next game. Hearing Giacomo’s grunt of disbelief was extremely satisfactory. But it was the indrawn breath of surprise from the woman next to him that drew his attention.

He didn’t let himself glance at her yet. She’d proven a seriously delicious distraction already. He had plans for her but those plans would have to wait a while longer.

For now, he revelled in Giacomo’s defeat and watched a trickle of sweat drip down his temple.

They were barely an hour in and he’d already divested him of several million dollars. As usual, Giacomo had been lured in by the promise of trouncing his son, enabling Narciso to lay the bait he knew wouldn’t be resisted.

The last game had won him a midsize radio station in Anaheim, California.

It would be a superb addition to his already sizeable news and social media portfolio. Or he could shut it down and declare it a loss.

It didn’t matter either way.

What mattered was that he had Giacomo’s financial demise within his grasp. How very fitting that he should be in the perfect place to celebrate once he’d hammered the last nail into the coffin.

His gaze flickered to the stunning woman in red who regarded him with a touch of wariness and a whole lot of undisguised interest.

The silky cognac-coloured hair begged to be messed with, as did that sinful, pouting mouth she insisted on mauling every time he won a hand.

But her body, Dio! Her dress was a little too tight, sure, but even the fact that it made her assets a little too in your face didn’t detract from the fact that she was a magnificent creature.

A magnificent creature he would possess tonight. She would be the cherry on his cake, one he would take the utmost pleasure in savouring before he devoured.

But first...

‘Do you yield?’ he asked silkily, already anticipating the response. In some ways they were so very similar. Which wasn’t surprising considering they were father and son.

Although a father and son who detested the very ground each other walked on put an interesting twist on their relationship.

‘Over my dead body.’ Giacomo snapped his fingers at the dealer and threw his last five-million-dollar platinum chip in the middle of the table.

Beside him, his hostess’s mouth dropped open. The sight of her pink tongue sent a spike of excitement through his groin.

Sì...he would celebrate well tonight. For a while there, he’d begun to suspect that beating Giacomo would be his only source of entertainment in Macau. Which was why he’d sought the old man out instead of leaving him to squirm a little longer. He’d wanted to be done and out of here as soon as possible.

The other deals he’d come to negotiate had taken the necessary leap forward and he’d believed there was nothing left.

But now...

His groin hardened as he watched her mouth slowly press shut and her eyes dart to his with the same anticipated excitement that flowed within him.

He let his interest show, let her see the promise of what was to come.

Heat flared up her delicate neck and flawless skin into a surprisingly innocent face that could’ve graced a priceless painting.

Dio, she was truly entrancing. And yet she was in a place like this, where the likelihood of being hit on, or more, was very real.

He gave a mental shrug. He’d stopped trying to reason why people took the actions they took well before he’d grown out of long socks.

Otherwise he’d have driven himself mad from trying to decipher why the father whose DNA flowed through his veins seemed to hate every single breath he took.

Or why Maria’s betrayal still had the power to burn an acid path in his gut—

No.

That train had long left the station. Giving it thinking room was a waste of time and his time was extremely precious.

Keeping his eyes on his hostess, he downed his drink and held out his empty glass.

‘I’m thirsty again, amante.’

With a nod, she sashayed away in her too-tight dress and returned minutes later with his drink.

When she started to move away, he snagged a hand around her waist. The touch of warm, silk-covered flesh beneath his fingers short-circuited his brain for a few moments. Then he realised she was trying to get away from him.

‘Stay. You bring me luck when you’re near.’

‘Shame you need a woman to win,’ Giacomo sneered.

Narciso ignored him and nodded to the dealer. He wanted this game to be over so he could pull this magical being tighter into his arms, feel her melt against him, his prize for emerging triumphant.

Giacomo threw his chip defiantly into the fray. Narciso’s chest tightened with the anger that never quite went away. For as long as he remembered, his father had treated him like that chip—inconsequential, easily cast aside. Underneath all the anger and bitterness, a wound he’d thought healed cracked open.

Ignoring it, he calmly plucked his cards from the table.