Dreaming Of... Italy: Daring to Trust the Boss / Reunited with Her Italian Ex / The Forbidden Prince

“Your staff is fast!”

“They like their jobs and want to keep them.”

“So, Tucker and I will leave you to explore. If you need a swimsuit, dial five-one on the phone and explain what you want. We have plenty for guests. And my staff speaks English.”

She smiled her thanks and he and Tucker left.

She breathed in the scent of fresh air, something she hadn’t smelled since her last visit to Kentucky, and twirled around. She was in Italy! On the estate of a billionaire! She fought the urge to pinch herself and, instead, slipped out of her sandals.

The bed called to her but she agreed with Constanzo that the best way to adjust to her current time zone would be to eat, drink and sleep at the appropriate times. Which meant she had to entertain herself for the next few hours.

After a quick call to the staff, a maid brought her a raspberry-colored one-piece swimsuit in the size she requested. The tags had been trimmed, but she could tell the suit was new.

She showered, shimmied into the tight spandex suit, slid into the cover-up and big straw sunhat the staff had also provided, and grabbed her book before she made her way downstairs. To the right were closed double doors. A formal dining room, complete with crystal chandelier, sat on the left. A slim hall ran down the middle. She followed the corridor to a huge great room. Floral sofas flanked by crystal lamps dominated the room. Huge double doors provided a view of the pool, its blue water sparkling in the sun.

She walked through the double doors onto a gray stone patio to a row of canvas chaise lounges. Kicking off her shoes, she tossed her book to the chair so she could remove the white lace cover-up.

When she finally had herself settled on the chaise, the June sun warmed her and giddy peace filled her. She was in Italy. Italy. She’d ridden a private jet across the Atlantic, driven in a limo, been brought to a villa where maids unpacked her meager belongings and now she lounged by a pool.

* * *

After leaving Olivia in her room, Constanzo had shown Tucker to the lavish suite he would be using. He’d suggested Tucker might want a nap or maybe a few minutes to freshen up. But Tucker insisted they use the time to hash out some of the details of the conglomerate acquisition. So Constanzo had led him to a den at the back of the first floor.

A pool table sat in the center of the room. Four big-screen TVs, one for each wall, hung in strategic spots. A bar that looked like an old English pub took up the back corner.

Constanzo immediately strode to the bar. “So what’s your pleasure?”

“Details. You’re offering me a billion-dollar conglomerate. I’d think the first order of business would be to stipulate how we’ll determine market value.”

“No! No!” Constanzo laughed. “I meant your drink. You like American bottled beer or what I have on tap?”

Tucker held back a sigh of impatience and politely said, “I’ll try what you have on tap.”

Constanzo drew two drafts and handed one to Tucker.

“Thanks. So how are we going to determine market value?”

Constanzo pushed a button and a dartboard appeared. “We could use the numbers in my annual statement.”

“And disregard what’s happened since it was released? How do I know your companies haven’t gone down in value?”

He opened a carved box filled with darts that lined both the bottom of the box and its lid, and offered them to Tucker. “Because you’ve been watching me. You know exactly what I’m worth.”

Tucker chuckled. He took a dart, aimed at the board and made a bull’s-eye.

“Ah. A real challenge for me today!”

Tucker sighed. “You’re not going to talk business, are you?”

“No. You’re tired from your trip. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Right. Don’t try to kid somebody who makes his living knowing when people are lying to him.”

“All right. You want to be blunt. We will be blunt. If you can’t deliver my son to me, totally understanding my position—that his mother contacted me once, on a busy day, when I was so overwhelmed I barely registered what she said, let alone had brain power to believe it—then you don’t get my company.”

“So there’s no point in talking specifics?”

“Exactly.” As he spoke, Constanzo opened the drapes of the den, revealing his shimmering pool. The gray stone outdoor space had furniture groupings that ran the gamut from formal seating areas to casual placement of chaise lounges around the pool.

And on one of the chaise lounges lay a pale woman in a one-piece, pinkish-purple bathing suit. A lock of strawberry blonde hair blew in the slight breeze.

Olivia. Vivi. Casual, happy, like-me-as-I-am Vivi. The woman who’d actually drawn him into a personal conversation the night before.

“I worry she’ll fall asleep in the sun.”

Tucker took a swig of beer. “If she does, she’d better have sunblock.”

“She is pale.”

She was pale. Trusting. And he’d finally realized that was the thing that drew him about her, even as it annoyed the hell out of him. She wanted to understand, asked a million questions, because she wanted to trust life.

Trust life. As if one could.

He took in her smooth shoulders, her trim tummy. Even being exactly the opposite of what he liked in a woman, she tempted him.

Which was ridiculous. He liked sleek, sophisticates. Not hometown girls.

She shifted on the chaise, onto her side. The hat slid over her face, but the position pushed her breasts precariously high in the brightly colored suit. Her long legs stretched out, bared to him on sand-colored canvas. All right. She was sexy. She might not be sleek or sophisticated, but she was definitely sexy.

“Vivi...she is more than your assistant?”

Tucker swung around. Good God. Now the woman had him staring. “No.” He walked over to the bar and grabbed three darts. “I told you, she’s really not even my assistant. Betsy, the accountant who generally works with me was in an accident. Vivi—” Oh, Lord. Had he just used her nickname? “Is a temp.”

He laughed. “I see.”

“She probably won’t be with me the next time we meet. But you’ll like Betsy. She’s incredibly competent.”

And he was counting the days until she finished rehab and returned to the office. He didn’t want a sexy assistant. He didn’t want to wonder about the slander suit filed against her. He wanted Betsy back so his life could return to normal.

Still, every time Constanzo took his turn at the dart board, Tucker’s gaze drifted out to the pool.

* * *

“Drink, Miss?”

The white-coated butler scared Vivi awake and she jumped. She shouldn’t be surprised that she’d drifted off to sleep since she hadn’t even had so much as a nap on the plane. But she didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to adjust to her new time zone.

“Sorry for jumping.”