Reckless Nights in Rome Read Online Free Page A

entrance of her
property.
    “I’m twenty-six
years old, hardly a kitten, Mr Ferranti.” Her arctic tone only
whetted his appetite.
    He brought the
car to a halt. Subtle night lights lit the grounds and entrance
porch.
    He turned to
her and absently toyed with her ponytail.
    It felt all
soft and silky. “You do not look it. Your colouring is quite
different from your brother.”
     
    The look in Nico’s eye
reminded Bronte of a starving cat staring at a mouse hole.
    “I take after
my mother.” With a dark look, she flicked her hair out of his hand.
Alexander’s hair was a rich chestnut, although they shared eye
colour and, Bronte thought as a sharp blade pierced her heart, the
same mother. But this was neither the time nor the place to think
of that.
    It appeared
Nico Ferranti had a problem with respecting personal space too, she
realised as he leaned towards her, his eyes keen on her face. “Yes,
she was a beautiful woman, almost as beautiful as her
daughter.”
    The genuine
regret in his voice brought a lump to Bronte’s throat as he took
her hand. Grief, still horribly fresh, coursed through her. She
closed her eyes tight and fought for control.
    “I am sorry,”
Nico said, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “I did not mean to
upset you. I understand you were close.”
    Bronte opened
her eyes and stared straight ahead into the night. The one thing
she simply could not tolerate was pity.
    Nico gently
squeezed her hand and she nodded, closing her eyes again to steady
herself. There was no way she could permit this man to get under
her skin. Again he was playing with her hair and she resisted the
crazy urge to crawl into his lap, bury her face into his neck and
stay there. As ever, she was allowing her emotions to rule instead
of using her head. The only thing Nico Ferranti wanted was her home
and she’d better not forget it.
    She turned and
gave him a level look, not in the mood for games.
    “Flirting, Mr
Ferranti? Let’s stop tap dancing around the subject shall we?” And
she caught the surprise in his eyes before he hooded his lids. He
had amazing lashes she mused, long and thick.
    Cool now, his
eyes met hers.
    He drew back to
study her face.
    “Nico, it is my
name, please use it.” The tone made it a command rather than a
request. Ah yes, the gloves were off Bronte realised, ignoring the
increasing flutter of nerves in her stomach.
    Here was the
real man.
    Bronte
recognised raw male power when she saw it and the force of a strong
will when she felt it. Nico would be a formidable adversary. Well,
she was no pushover either. Exasperation with him made her tone
hard.
    “The Dower
House is not for sale, Mr Ferranti.”
    She caught the
quick flash in those eyes before his finger tipped up her chin. Her
gasp of alarm narrowed his eyes, the finger traced the hectic pulse
in her neck, and his smile reminded her forcibly of a great white
shark.
    For the first
time, Bronte realised she may have overstepped the mark. Her throat
tightened, saliva dried in her mouth as she pushed his hand
away.
    “Everything and
everyone has a price,” he told her.
    Struck
speechless by his arrogance, she stared at him. Was it not enough
for him to turn her home into a hotel? Now he wanted the only link
she had left to her family? Nico Ferranti, she decided, needed a
major boot in the ass.
    Bronte rarely
lost her temper, although you wouldn’t know it by her lack of
control this evening. A hot stinging sensation in her eyes along
with the tight feeling in her chest warned her she was ready to
blow.
    She made a fist
and he gripped her wrist.
    “Let go of me.”
She spat the words and stared at him with wide eyes.
    Too late, Nico realised
he held a hissing cat by the tail.
    Bronte’s
emerald eyes flashed and her full bottom lip trembled with
outrage.
    He must be more
tired than he thought. Crossing three time zones had obviously
influenced his ability to control himself. True, she’d got to him
by calling him Mr Ferranti in such a