Unnoticed and Untouched (7 page)

“H-hello,” she said as he stepped into the light. If Renzo was the most handsome man on the planet, then this man was surely second. He was tall, broad and lean—and she knew who he was. She’d seen his picture in the same motorcycle magazines in which she’d seen Renzo’s.

“Ah, English,” he said. “You are American, no?”

Faith swallowed. “Yes.”

The man held out his hand. “Niccolo Gavretti. But you can call me Nico.”

“I know who you are,” Faith said as she accepted his handshake. “I’m Faith Black.”

Nico’s handsome face split in a grin. “Ah, Faith, I have heard of you. Renzo’s prized secretary, yes?” His dark gaze slid down her body. “I see why he keeps you hidden away in America.
Bella
.”

Faith extracted her hand when he tried to hold it for longer than necessary. “No one keeps me hidden. I’ve only worked for Mr. D’Angeli for six months.”

Nico didn’t stop smiling. “Better and better,” he said. “And yet I am glad you are here now.”

“I don’t see why you should be,” she said. He was incredibly handsome, but he didn’t make her heart throb the way Renzo did. He was, like Renzo, a player of the worst sort. Women flowed in and out of his bed like water from a faucet.

He laughed. “You are a beautiful woman. Why should I not be? Unless, of course, you are spoken for already?”

Faith felt herself reddening, though she knew he was only flattering her because it was as second nature to him as breathing. “If you will excuse me, I need to find my boss.”

“I will take you to him,” Nico said, offering his arm. “You will never find him in this crush without help.”

Faith hesitated. It was true the place was overrun with elegantly dressed people. And she spoke no Italian. She’d found a man who spoke English, and who knew Renzo. But she seemed to remember reading that Nico and Renzo were rivals on the track. And she knew for a fact that Renzo was determined to bring out his latest production bike before Gavretti Manufacturing could unveil theirs.

“Afraid of what Renzo will say?” Nico asked.

Faith lifted her chin. “No, of course not.”

“Then come with me,
bella
, and we will find him.”

Renzo arrived at the party later than he’d thought he would. But he’d gotten a call from one of his investors and he’d
needed to go into Florence for a meeting. He’d fully intended to be back by the time Faith left, but he was nearly an hour late. She would, no doubt, be furious with him. He’d sent her into this gathering alone when he should have gone back for her and to hell with the time.

Now, he stood at the edge of the glittering crowd congregating in the garden and scanned it for a sighting of her. He knew she was here because Ennio had still been out front with the car when he’d arrived. Since Renzo had driven his own car, he’d sent Ennio home and then come to look for Faith. He’d tried calling her mobile phone, but she was not answering.

The hostess smiled when she saw him. “Renzo, darling, we’re so glad you’ve returned to Italia,” Filomena Mazzaro said. “How is the new motorbike coming along?”

Renzo didn’t feel like talking to anyone until he found Faith, but he chatted for a moment before asking if Filomena had seen her. Filomena’s brows drew together. “I don’t remember greeting her, no. But I am sure she is here, darling. We have so many people tonight.”

Renzo excused himself after a few more moments and continued the search. He should have asked Faith what she was planning to wear tonight, but how well would that have worked? She was a woman, and no doubt had changed her dress at least three times before deciding.

He drew up short when he spotted Niccolo Gavretti. He’d known Gavretti would be here, but he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with the man tonight.

Perhaps he wouldn’t have to. Gavretti was standing with a blonde in a red dress, and he seemed engrossed in her. He had his hand on her shoulder as he smiled down at her. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her, but she took a step to the side the moment his head dipped. Renzo laughed to himself. He couldn’t see the blonde’s face because the
instant she’d stepped aside, a light had shone straight into his eyes, silhouetting her form.

She was, of course, voluptuous. He could tell that much. She had full, lush breasts and a nipped-in waist that flared out again in generous hips. Her legs were long and lovely, her feet encased in delicate shoes with glittery silver straps. Everything a woman ought to be, he decided. Gavretti had excellent taste, as he well knew from the days when they used to prowl the bars of Florence together, drinking and having a good time.

The blonde might be gorgeous, but Renzo wasn’t interested in her. He had to find Faith. He started to walk past the two of them, but the woman cried out as he did so.

The voice was painfully familiar. Renzo stiffened as if he’d been struck by lightning. Slowly, he turned. The voluptuous blonde stared back at him, her green eyes wide, her lips red and luscious and kissable.

Kissable. Maldedizone
.

Faith sashayed over to him while Gavretti smirked. The bastard.

“I’ve been looking for you, Faith,” Renzo said calmly. He was proud of himself for how calm he sounded. How reasonable.

She was beautiful. Utterly gorgeous, and he was a fool for allowing her to come alone.

“I’ve been looking for you, too,” she said. “Nico was helping me.”

Renzo’s lips peeled back from his teeth in a smile. He’d seen how Gavretti was helping her. The hard bite of acid flooded his throat as he thought of Gavretti’s hand on her—of his attempt to kiss her. Kiss
his
Faith. It wasn’t the first time Gavretti had tried to take something from Renzo that did not belong to him. “Was he? How wonderfully chivalrous of him.”

Renzo slipped an arm around her lush form, anchored her to him. She gasped, the smallest intake of breath, and his body responded, tightening, hardening. He wanted her beneath him, making those noises while he took her to heaven and back. While he got her out of his system so he could concentrate again.

Because he’d been thinking of little else but getting her naked since this afternoon, when she’d transformed before his eyes. He should have known better. He’d already been attracted to her, inexplicably perhaps, but now? Now he wanted to mark her as his and kill any man who dared to touch her.

Gavretti’s eyes narrowed as his gaze slipped back and forth between them. “If I had known she was yours, Renzo—”

“She is,” he stated with finality.

He could feel Faith stiffening in outrage. Because she did not yet realize the truth. “Renzo, I am not—”

He cupped her jaw and slanted his mouth over hers, silencing her.

F
AITH
was furious. She sat in Renzo’s sports car, her arms folded over her breasts and her head turned toward the window, seething. Renzo shifted smoothly, the engine revving into the night as the car raced along the Tuscan roads toward his villa.

How dared he? First, Niccolo Gavretti had thought he could have his way with her, and then Renzo had come along—hot, furious and broody as hell—and the standoff had begun. It wasn’t about her—it was about who was in control, about who got what he wanted.

Renzo had kissed her in front of all those people while cameras flashed and caught the moment forever. Her heart did a long slide into the bottom of her stomach. It had only been a matter of time before she was photographed with Renzo, so she could hardly be surprised about it.

And yet the panic that clawed into her now wouldn’t go away. She’d done nothing wrong. Not now, and not eight years ago. But she dreaded the attention if that old photograph was brought to light. The shame and helpless rage.

What angered her most about tonight was that Renzo hadn’t kissed her because he’d wanted to, but because he’d wanted to prove something to Nico. He’d been marking her as his, but only because he knew it would irritate the other man.

The moment he’d let her go, she’d turned on her heel and marched for the door. It was the calmest, most rational response she’d been capable of, since staying there would have necessitated her slapping the both of them.

Renzo hadn’t argued when she’d told him she wanted to go. He’d simply led the way to his car and roared out of the driveway without saying another word.

Now, the car ate up the roadway until Faith’s heart began to beat hard for a different reason. “Renzo, you’re scaring me. This isn’t the track.”

He swore, but the car throttled back to a more-reasonable speed. His hands flexed on the wheel, and his handsome face was harsh in the lights from the dash. He looked furious, which only fueled her anger.

“I don’t know why you’re angry,” she said. “I’m not the one who embarrassed you by kissing you in front of all those people.”

He shot her a disbelieving glance. “You’re embarrassed? Over what?”

She turned toward him, arms still crossed, her heart racing. It was merely a game to him, while to her it could mean being the subject of public scrutiny again. “I realize that you may think you’re God’s gift—heaven knows enough women have told you so—but not everyone wants their private life put on display for the world to see. Not only that, but we
have
no private life! You did it just to prove a point to Nico.”

His eyes flashed. “Do not call that man Nico,” he growled. “He only wanted to use you so he could get to me.”

Another spike of anger launched her blood pressure into the danger zone. “Do you think I don’t know that? I’m not stupid, Renzo. Two of Italy’s most famous bachelors fighting over me? I hardly think so. I just happened
to be the bone that both dogs decided they wanted to control tonight. If there had been a juicy steak nearby, they’d have fought over that instead.”

Renzo swore again. And then he jerked the car off the road and onto a narrow dirt track she hadn’t seen before he turned. The car jolted to a stop and then he unsnapped her seat belt and reached for her before she knew what he was planning.

He crushed her mouth beneath his, his fingers sliding into her hair, his tongue demanding entrance. She opened to him, too shocked by the onslaught to protest. She should be angry. She should push him away. She should do anything but let him kiss her as if he were a dying man and she the last hope he had for salvation.

But, shockingly, she was turned on. Her body was on fire. Her nerve endings were zinging with sparks and her sex ached for his possession. She was throbbing, aching, melting—needing things she’d never needed before.

His tongue delved deep, demanding that she meet him, that she give him everything.

She did.

He slid one hand up her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. Part of her wanted to clamp her legs together, to tell him no, but that was her father talking. Her damned childhood talking.

She was a woman, and she was capable of wanting a man, of choosing the man who would be her first. It wasn’t wrong or ugly to feel this way. It was a revelation.

A glorious, exciting, shattering revelation.

Renzo’s fingers spread along her hip, shaped her as she tried to get closer to him. When his hand slid over her panties, she had to force herself to keep breathing. She did not know what he would do, but she found herself hoping he would touch her. Dying for him to touch her.

And frightened, too.

And then he slid one finger across the thin silk, and then down … down over the damp heat of her. The groan that emanated from his throat vibrated into her. Thrilled her.

His finger stroked over her again, eliciting a moan. Every thought in her head flew out the window. All she wanted was to feel more of this delicious sensation, this wicked pleasure. He kissed her hard, and she shuddered and arched against his hand, wanting the barrier gone, wanting to feel everything.

She wanted more.
More
.

He skimmed his mouth down her throat, leaving a trail of hot kisses as the temperature in the car spiked. Faith closed her eyes, gasping at the sensual onslaught.

“I want you, Faith. I
want
you. It has nothing to do with Gavretti, nothing to do with anyone but you. I want to take you to my bed and spend the night lost in your body. I’ve been imagining all the things I want to do to you for the past week. All the ways in which I want to explore you.”

His voice was deep, his Italian accent thicker than usual, and his words so sexy she could die. His words shocked her. Turned her on. She wanted to know what sort of things he’d imagined. Wanted to know what he would do if she said yes.

But she was cautious. Scared. She wasn’t sophisticated enough to know how this worked or what tomorrow would bring if she said the yes he wanted her to say. The yes she was dying to say.

“I—I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said quickly. “This isn’t part of my job—”

He pulled away from her suddenly. And then he swore in Italian, the words hot and sharp and nothing like the sexy words he’d just said to her. Faith wanted to cry at the loss of his heat.

He pounded the steering wheel once, a sharp, violent move that made her jump. And then he shoved a hand through his hair before turning the key. The car roared to life again, the dash lights illuminating the harsh lines of his jaw. Disappointment rolled through her, along with a healthy dose of regret. Why had she spoken? Why had she pierced the happiness that had been racing through her body like a nuclear explosion?

He turned to look at her, his blue eyes penetrating even in the darkness. “I would never pay a woman—
any
woman—to have sex with me, Faith. Do you understand that?”

“I wasn’t suggesting—”

“You were,” he snapped. “You keep throwing your job at me, as if I have no idea what it is I pay you for.”

Her heart throbbed because she knew he was right.

He reversed onto the roadway and popped the car into gear before turning to her again. “I assure you that I know exactly what I pay you for. And I want you because you are beautiful and fascinating, not because you’re convenient. If you believe that, then by all means go to bed alone tonight.”

Faith couldn’t sleep. Partly, it was the jetlag. And, partly, it was the adrenaline still coursing through her body after the way Renzo had kissed her in his car. She’d been so close to heaven, and so far at the same time.

It shocked her to admit it, but she’d wanted him with a fierceness that she would never have believed possible only a week ago. That was the power of Renzo D’Angeli, she thought sourly. He was gorgeous, compelling and utterly amazing. When he turned all that male power on you, you wanted to let him continue until the very end. Until you were a sobbing mess begging him for another chance.

What else explained the way women kept throwing
themselves at him, despite his reputation for never staying with one woman longer than a couple of months?

Nothing. And she was little different, apparently. Renzo was a flame that she wanted to immolate herself in—even though she knew she shouldn’t. Pitiful. For all her professionalism, for all her belief that she alone would be immune to him, she was no different from the rest.

Faith threw the covers back and yanked on her robe. She owed him an explanation for the way she’d behaved, but it would have to wait until morning. She’d insulted him, and she hadn’t meant to do so. But she’d been confused, scared, and she’d said the first thing that had popped into her head.

The wrong thing.

From the beginning, Renzo had made it clear that the decisions about what she did were hers to make. The decision to go to the party at the Stein’s, though he’d cajoled pretty hard. The decision to come to Italy. Even the decisions about how to style her hair and what to wear, though he’d forced her into making the choices in the first place. He had not once told her how things would be, though he’d certainly pushed her into action.

Renzo might be her employer, but he would not ever expect it to give him access to her body. She knew better, and yet she’d implied he’d believed it did.

Faith’s stomach growled, and she realized she’d failed to eat at the party. She’d been nervous, waiting for Renzo to arrive, trying to hold her own with Niccolo Gavretti—who had refused to let her search for Renzo by herself. Well, now she knew why. No doubt he’d orchestrated that moment when he’d tried to kiss her precisely because he knew Renzo was watching.

Clearly, there was something more between them than simple rivalry—and she’d been the one caught in the middle
of their feud tonight, the collateral damage as they waged their war against each other.

Faith slipped from her room, hesitating at Renzo’s door when she saw a light coming from underneath it, but continued down the hall and then down the marble staircase to the large kitchen at the back of the house.

She found a loaf of bread on the counter and some cheese in the fridge, and then dug around for a knife with which to slice them. Once she’d fixed a small plate, she turned to go back to her room, but stopped when a shadow moved outside the door. Her heart lodged in her throat and she wondered for a moment if she should scream, but then the door opened and a man stepped inside.

A man with a tiny, mewling bundle in his arms.

“Renzo?”

He looked up as if he’d just realized she was there. The kitten mewed again, such a sad, pitiful little sound, and Faith’s heart squeezed tight.

Renzo came toward her and set the kitten on the large island, blocking the tiny thing from escaping. “I kept hearing something outside my window,” he said. “I couldn’t find the mother, or any trace of other kittens. I think maybe she moved the litter and forgot one.”

“It’s so little. It can’t be more than a month old.”

Renzo picked the creature up again and held it out to her. “You know what to do with cats,
si
?”

She took the kitten, a lump forming in her throat as it shivered hard. “He—or she—probably needs milk,” Faith said. “But we have to warm it up. Cold milk won’t do. It’ll make his belly ache.”

Renzo moved to the refrigerator and took out the milk. Then he found a saucepan and poured some in before setting it on the stove and turning on the burner. His hair was disheveled, and she realized for the first time that he wasn’t
wearing a shirt. His broad chest was muscled, firm, and she found her breath shortening as she watched him move.

He wore a pair of sleep pants with a drawstring tie that hung low on his hips, revealing the tight ridges of his abdomen and the arrow of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waist of his pants.

“He must have been terribly loud if you could hear him in your room,” she said, hugging the kitten close and stroking the silky fur. She’d missed having a cat since Mr. Darcy had died last year. The little body began to rumble with a purr instead of a shiver, and tears filled Faith’s eyes as she thought of the kitten lost and scared.

Renzo turned from the stove and leaned against the counter, crossing one leg over another as he stood there looking at her. “
Si
. I did not realize it was a cat at first, the whine was so high-pitched. He was in the bougainvillea beneath my windows. If I had not been standing on the balcony, I would not have heard him.”

“He’s lucky you went looking for him,” she said.

“I could not leave him there.”

“No.”

After a moment, Renzo turned and rummaged in a cabinet for a small bowl. Then he stuck his finger into the milk on the stove, testing it. Faith’s heart did a little skip at that sign of tenderness in such a hard man.

“It is ready,” he said, pouring the milk and bringing the bowl over to the island. Faith set the kitten down and he immediately began to drink. His purr grew louder, and she glanced at Renzo. They laughed together.

“He is as loud as the Viper,” Renzo said. “Perhaps we should call him that.”

Faith felt heat curling through her stomach, her limbs. “We don’t actually know it’s a he,” she pointed out. “He might be a she.”

“Ah, then we will have to call her Miss Viper.”

“You would keep this cat?” she asked.

“No,” he said softly. “I would give him—or her—to you. Because you miss having a cat.”

Her eyes were stinging. “I don’t have time for a pet,” she said. “I’m away from home too much, working….” She let her voice trail off as the word brought back memories of earlier.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she looked up again, met his gaze.

“For what?”

He shrugged. “For what happened in the car. I was … angry. I should not have kissed you like that.”

“I didn’t mind the kiss,” she said softly, dropping her gaze again as her blood fizzed in her veins at the memory of all that heat and passion. “Renzo, I …”

She stroked the kitten’s soft fur, unsure she could say the words she needed to say.

Renzo reached out and put his hand over hers, oh so lightly, and stroked the kitten with her for a moment. Then his hand dropped away, rested on the counter. “What is it, Faith?”