‘Why have you brought me in here?’ Ava whispered.
‘Mr Barbieri asked me to prepare this room for you,’ Eleanor advanced.
Ava froze. ‘Where is Mr Barbieri?’ she asked tightly.
‘I believe he’s in his bedroom.’
The housekeeper departed and Ava expelled her pent-up breath in a hiss while she scanned the opulence of the room. Totally unsuitable, she reflected incredulously. Vito could not put her in the main bedroom reserved for only the most honoured VIPs. My goodness, there was even a fire burning in the grate! Harvey, no slowcoach at spotting the most warm and comfy place in the room, settled down on the rug and lowered his shaggy head down on his paws.
‘Don’t bother getting comfortable,’ Ava warned him ruefully. ‘We’re not staying in the five-star accommodation!’
Leaving Harvey, she crossed the landing at a smart pace to knock on Vito’s bedroom door while she waited outside with folded arms. When there was no answer she knocked again and waited with mounting impatience. Finally she just opened the door and went in, only to stop dead on the threshold at the sight of Vito emerging from his en suite clad in only a pair of black briefs.
For a split second she simply stared, eyes wide, mouth dropping open in shock and awkwardness. He had an incredible body because he worked out and swam regularly in the basement fitness suite. Vibrant skin the colour of honey glowed in the lamplight, drawing attention to his powerful shoulders, truly remarkable abs and a stomach as flat as a washboard. Short black curls accentuated his pectorals while a silky dark furrow of hair ran down over his concave belly and disappeared below the waistband of his briefs. With her attention lingering in that most private area, embarrassment bit deep into Ava and she spun around, rejecting the view and presenting him with her back. ‘I’m so sorry … I didn’t mean to interrupt you—’
‘At least close the door,’ Vito said drily.
She shoved the door shut, her face so hot she thought eggs could have fried on it. What on earth had she been doing staring at him like that? As if she’d never seen a half-naked man before—she hadn’t, though, apart from on the beach. Her lack of experience at almost twenty-two years of age affronted her pride. She was a case of arrested development, imposed by her years locked away in prison. Obsessed with Vito before she lost her freedom she had missed out entirely on the phase of youthful experimentation.
‘Che cosa a successo … what has happened?’ Vito drawled, cool as ice water with an edge of mockery.
Ava spun back to him, catching the sardonic hint of amusement written on his face as though on some level he relished her discomfiture. ‘I came straight to find you because you simply can’t plonk me in the main guest room!’ she shot at him. ‘It’s a very bad idea.’
Engaged in drawing up the zip on a pair of close-fitting designer chinos, his magnificent torso providing a stunning display as his hips arched back and the ropes of muscle across his abdomen flexed, Vito had never looked more assured or calm. Being half naked in her presence clearly did not trouble him in the slightest. ‘Let me decide what is appropriate,’ he advised.
‘Well, that’s just it, isn’t it?’ Ava snapped back at him heatedly, inflamed by his refusal to take the subject seriously. ‘Obviously I can’t trust you to do what is appropriate!’
His black brows were level above his spectacular dark deep-set eyes. ‘This is my house and I am the best judge of that. What I say goes here.’
His arrogant unconcern infuriated Ava. ‘How can you completely ignore how other people will feel about me staying here?’
An ebony brow lifted. ‘It’s none of their business.’
‘You have a hell of an attitude problem, Vito!’ Ava hurled.
‘Agreed,’ Vito fielded softly as he reached for the shirt draped over the back of a chair. ‘I never could stand being told what to do.’
The crack was not lost on Ava. She reddened, her lush mouth compressing. ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do—’
Vito studied her with interest, noting that she had chosen to travel in her office skirt and shirt, the violin curves above and below her tiny waist pronounced in the outfit. He wanted to rip the restrained garments off her, clothe her in excessively feminine silk and lace lingerie so that he could picture her lying on his bed without even stretching his imagination. Seeing her in his bedroom, he decided, was a disturbingly intimate experience.
‘Sì, you are. You’re a real little bossy-boots—you always were,’ he riposted, watching her succulent lips part in surprise at the comeback, recognising the flare in her bright blue eyes with wicked anticipation.
Ava threw her head high, thick silky hair shimmering like a fall of molten copper round her cheekbones, eyes huge and fiery with defiance. ‘I am not a bossy-boots!’
‘Olly always did as he was told,’ Vito murmured silkily. ‘But be warned—I don’t. You’re in the main guest room purely because it was my decision to put you there.’
‘Then put me somewhere a little more humble!’ Ava cut in angrily.
In the strained silence that stretched in the wake of her demand, the atmosphere hissed and buzzed like a crackling fire.
‘No,’ Vito responded, sliding a long arm smoothly into his shirt, his mind still engaged in imagining her on his bed seductively clad in little frilly bits of nothing. The pulse of urgency at his groin made him clench his teeth together. Desire, he recognised in exasperation, levelled all boundaries and defences.
‘But I’m not an honoured guest here, I’m an employee!’ Ava pointed out furiously. ‘I should be staying in the staff quarters—’
‘No,’ Vito said again very quietly. ‘I stand by my decision.’
‘But it looks bad—’
Vito pulled on the shirt. ‘You’re a bright girl, Ava. Work it out for yourself.’
‘Work what out?’ Ava flung back at him in frustration. ‘It’s obvious that you can’t treat me like a special guest without causing talk.’
Vito moved forward, the open shirt fluttering back from his strong muscled torso. ‘Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t you spend three years in prison in punishment for your crime?’
Ava lost colour and her gaze dropped uneasily from his. ‘Obviously I did.’
‘So, you were tried and sentenced and you paid the price society demands. Where does it say that you have to go on paying?’ he enquired impatiently. ‘I put you in the principal guest room because if I treat you with respect everyone else will take their lead from me and award you the same level of respect.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ she protested in a gruff undertone.
‘It is,’ Vito contradicted with serene confidence. ‘Don’t allow your insecurities to make it seem more complicated.’
A tempest of rage roared through Ava like a dam breaking its banks and she flung her head back, coppery hair dancing round her slim shoulders. ‘I don’t have insecurities!’ she slammed back at him, defending the pride that was all she had left.
‘Ava,’ Vito countered very drily, ‘you’ve always been a seething mass of insecurities.’
‘That is not true … that is so totally untrue!’ Ava hurled back at him tempestuously.
‘Madonna