“Put your number in my phone,” he instructed, taking his cell out of his back pocket and offering it to her. “I’ll call you this afternoon so we can hook up.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. Hook up? After five minutes of conversation? Boy, bye!
Disgust must have shown on her face, because Romeo wore an apologetic smile and brushed his fingertips against her forearm.
“What is it, bellissima? You look upset. Did I say something wrong?”
Beautiful? Overcome by his close proximity, Zoe dodged his sexy, steely stare. Romeo thinks I’m beautiful? Goose bumps flooded her skin. Feeling out of sorts, as if a shy, flustered teenager had suddenly inhabited her body, her mouth dried and her heart beat in triple time. “You don’t have to buy me dinner. It was an accident, and since the police said I’m to blame, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I’d still like to take you out tonight. I love being in the presence of smart, accomplished women. I think we’ll have a great time together at Dolce Vita Milan.”
Swallowing hard, Zoe fingered the gold pendant at her neck. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said, still convinced he was up to something. “We’re strangers, and—”
“That’s why I want us to have dinner. We’ll have a nice meal, a bottle of your favorite wine, and get to know each other better. Doesn’t that sound like fun, Zoe?”
Romeo licked his lips with such finesse her skin tingled. It was a struggle, but Zoe maintained her composure, didn’t wither under the intensity of his dark, smoldering gaze.
“I can’t. I have a work function to attend.”
“I understand. No problem. We can have dinner tomorrow night. Same time and place.”
Zoe shook her head. “I have plans with friends.”
“Cancel them.” Glancing around, he lowered his face to hers and spoke in a quiet voice. “We need to get our stories straight about the accident. I don’t want any surprises.”
His words didn’t register. “I don’t understand.”
“I think you do, but we can discuss the details tomorrow night at dinner.”
A taxicab stopped at the curb, and Zoe sighed in relief. “I have to go.”
“Not so fast.” Romeo put his hand on the passenger side door, thwarting her escape. “You still haven’t given me your cell number. How am I supposed to finalize our plans if I don’t know how to reach you?”
Zoe couldn’t believe his nerve. Who does he think he is? My man? The time for being nice was over. It was time to make herself crystal clear. “We’re not having dinner tomorrow night or any other night. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
He looked shell-shocked, like a survivor stumbling off a shipwrecked boat. Zoe suspected a woman had never told him no before. Proud of herself for not falling victim to his charms, she gestured to the door and smiled her thanks when he reluctantly opened it.
“Zoe, please, reconsider meeting with me. I know we can work something out.”
“There’s nothing to reconsider.”
To her surprise, Romeo reached into his pocket, took out his wallet and handed the driver several dollar bills. Lowering his head through the open window, his cologne engulfing the compact car, he spoke to the driver in Italian.
His words made her heart smile. Take this beautiful woman anywhere she wants to go. Zoe couldn’t deny it, the man had a way with words. Romeo straightened to his full height, and watching him made her pulse race. He waved at her, but Zoe dropped her gaze to her lap. Since Zoe didn’t want to encourage Romeo’s advances, she told the taxi driver to step on it.
On the outside, Casa Di Moda headquarters in the Milan city center was nothing special, but Zoe called the two-story property her second home. Housed in a brown brick building, with the name of the fashion house written on the windows in fine script, the decor was clean and simple.
Breezing through the front door, Zoe smiled and waved at her colleagues. The interior had bright colors, scrumptious chairs and couches, and vintage mirrors throughout the main floor. Oversize photographs of ad campaigns and fashion shows beautified the walls, and as Zoe entered the reception area, the tranquil atmosphere calmed her nerves. Despite the pain in her ankle, she moved with confidence.
The December program she’d created for Casa Di Moda was packed with creative holiday events, and Zoe was confident her boss would love it, especially the Men of Milan calendar. The idea had come to her days earlier after a loud, spirited conversation with her girlfriends on FaceChat, and Zoe couldn’t wait to pitch it at the morning staff meeting.
Reaching the conference room door, she smoothed her hands over her braids and the front of her dress. It had been one hell of a morning, but her day was about to get better. Excitement coursed through her veins. Cha-ching! Zoe had big plans for her bonus. After she paid her bills and bought her plane ticket to New York, she’d donate the rest of the money to her favorite charity. Last year, she’d organized a Christmas toy drive at the office, and it had been a success. This year, Zoe planned to do more.
For some strange reason, an image of Romeo Morretti popped into her mind, derailing her thoughts. She’d done nothing wrong, so why did she feel guilty about turning down his dinner invitation? Zoe had a bad feeling about him, just knew that he was as cocky as the tabloids said he was, so why did she regret not giving him her cell phone number? Had she made a mistake? During the taxicab ride, she’d read several articles about him on her tablet, and each story was more shocking than the one before. Born into one of the richest families in the country, Romeo had been educated in the finest schools and lived a life most people could only dream of. He owned real estate properties, premier restaurants, spas and fitness centers. Eight years after opening his company, Morretti Finance and Investments, his personal net worth had tripled. Not that Zoe was impressed by his staggering wealth. The most interesting thing she’d read about the brilliant businessman had nothing to do with his flamboyant lifestyle and celebrity friends. Every year, he donated millions of dollars to charity and even fed the homeless. Maybe he’s more than just a bad-boy bachelor, she’d thought, staring at the images taken of him at local hospitals and orphanages. Maybe he has a heart.
Zoe shook her head to clear her mind. It didn’t matter what she thought. She didn’t have time to daydream about a man she’d never see again. She was late, and since every second counted, she gripped the door handle, turned it and peeked inside the conference room.
The blinds were drawn, allowing sunlight to fill the room, and decorative vases overflowing with peach and orange roses sweetened the air. Decorated in white with floor-to-ceiling windows, leather armchairs and contemporary art, the conference room was spacious and attractive. Fruit and pastry trays were on the table, and Zoe’s mouth watered in anticipation.
Sighing in relief, Zoe eased open the door. Thankfully, Aurora had her back to the door and was furiously writing notes on the Smart Board. Her husband, Davide, was staring down at his iPad. With his clean-cut looks and salt-and-pepper hair, the executive vice president often joked about feeling old. But he had a youthful air, and everyone