My Italian Billionaire: A BWWM Italian Billionaire Romance (6 page)

"You are…"

Megan sat up slightly, leaning on her forearms. "Taught you something new, huh?"

"I…" Lucca shook his head. He had been able to orgasm twice in one night before, but not so close together. An aftershock pulsed through his cock, and he groaned.

I'll take that as a yes." Giggling, she closed her eyes. "I'm ready to go back to sleep."

"Me too."

She opened her eyes in time to see him lifting his eyebrows suggestively. Her laughter washed over him, her smile amazing. Maybe she wasn't a classic beauty, but she was still breathtaking. Her smile did something to him, her laugh even more. He found himself wanting to make her laugh again.

"I can't though." She stretched, and his gaze roved over her body. Such dark nipples, they looked so hard yet. Her hair, her wild eyes, her breathlessness—everything suggested she had just had a good romp in the hay.

"You should think about quitting," he said.

Megan pursed her lips. "So I can spend the rest of the day in bed with you?" Her laugh this time wasn't quite so freeing.

"Yes and because you should quit," he said more seriously.

Some of the light in her chocolate eyes dimmed. "Can't even think about that until I have another job lined up."

He couldn't fathom what it was like to work a new job. Since he had turned twelve, he had started to intern at his father's company—unpaid until he turned sixteen. The business was all he knew.

And if he didn't marry before his birthday, she wouldn't be the only one trying to find a new place of employment. The thought unsettled him, and he frowned.

"Hey, you tried my cooking. It's good, right? Maybe not five-star quality, but I'm learning every day. Give me a bunch of random ingredients, and I'll be able to whip something up."

Her confidence was sexy. Maybe others guys would be put off, not thinking they would be man enough for an assertive woman, but he was willing to give her a shot. So far, he had no reason at all to think she was like the other fake women he had dated. Well, fucked a bunch of times would be more accurate. He didn't really date.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "That omelet…"

Her eyes flashed darkly, her hands on her wide hips. Child-bearing hips.

Where had that come from? Marriage was one thing. Kids another.

"What about that omelet?" She tilted her head to the side.

He licked his lips. "Tasted five-star quality to me."

She swatted his shoulder. "As if you would know."

For a second, he froze. Then he burst out laughing. "I do have an imagination."

"Hm. Good to know." She picked up his jeans—she must've brought them in here—and her hand rifled through a pocket.

His wallet. His phone. Two means for her to learn who he was.

But he didn't need to have worried. She tossed him his phone. "My number is…"

"Wait." He rushed to unlock it. "Go ahead."

She dictated her number almost too fast for him to catch.

Lucca grinned. "I'll send you a text so you have mine."

"Oh, I don't have a texting plan."

"You don't?"

Megan winced, and he wanted to slap himself. "That's not a cell number. It's my landline. I had a pay as you go phone for a while, but I'm not even sure where it is or the last time I used it."

There he went, making assumptions. "Sorry."

She laughed and waved his words away. "How many New Yorkers do you think don't have cell phones?" Megan held up a long finger and then pointed to herself. "Now, this one has to get ready for work." Biting her lip, she hesitated. "Could you… let yourself out?"

He stood and dressed quickly, glad she watched although her thoughts seemed to be far away. "When can I see you again?"

Her eyebrows rose. "Aren't you afraid of getting sick of me?"

"No," he said honestly.

"Since I don't have your number, guess the ball's in your court." Her grin devastated him.

Lucca stepped toward her for a hug, but she darted away. A moment later, he heard the water running. Not wanting to be the reason for her to be late for work and be given even more grief from her asshole of a boss, he left.

Outside, he removed his cell and eyed her number before realizing he had two missed calls—one from Paul and one from the lawyer. He called back Mr. Valet. His secretary explained that he was in a meeting and said she'd be sure to have him return his call.

Next he dialed Paul as he raised his hand to hail a cab. One pulled up as soon as Paul answered. He dictated his address to the driver then said into his phone, "What's up, Paul?"

"Don't you know it's rude to talk to someone else when you're on the phone?"

"I do know. I just thought you'd give me some slack."

There was a slight pause. "You sound different."

"Well rested?" Lucca supplied. The seats weren't the most cushioned, but he didn't mind.

"No, that's not it."

He snorted. He hadn't gotten much sleep at all, truth be told.

"You… you sound… you're happy?" Paul sounded incredulous.

Lucca held still. The taxi driver hung a left to avoid traffic, and he held onto the door so he wouldn't fall over. Was he happy? Maybe. Why didn't he feel guilty over feeling happiness so soon after his father's death?

Because maybe he understood another reason why his father had the stipulation.
Father wants me to be happy.
The thought came as a shock.

"Lucca? Are you still there?"

"Yes. What do you want?" He could hardly focus on his friend.

"I met these awesome women last night. I think you'd really hit it off with one of them. Hell, with both of them. They're gorgeous with killer legs and flawless skin and…"

His friend droned on, but Lucca wasn't listening. Knowing Paul, these women would be just like the others. Paul came from money himself, had hardly worked for it. He wasn't the kind of guy to marry for love. He'd date—screw—around until he found one woman who drove him wild in bed. They'd get married, he'd get bored, and they'd get divorced. It happened once already with a redhead called Ursula and then with Danielle.

"Listen, I have to go," Lucca said abruptly.

"That's fine, but which one do you want to take to my Labor Day party?"

"Neither."

"Lucca, you only have—"

"I know how long I have. Don't worry. I'll be there," he promised.

"With a date?" Paul pressed.

"Yes." Lucca hung up.

The only woman he wanted to bring along was Megan, but how could he do that when she didn't know who he was or how wealthy he was?

Maybe they were too different. Certainly he felt connected to her physically and sexually, but love meant more than just sex, didn't it? For Lucca, relationships had always been about the sex. Now that he wanted more, would he even recognize love when he felt it?

Chapter Eight: Working Girl

Despite her hectic morning, Megan managed to make it to work on time. For the next two hours, she worked nonstop. Every step sent a pleasant ache throughout her body, reminding her of why she was so sore. Lucca. Would he call her? When? Maybe she should've taken his number. A girl could call a guy nowadays without looking too forward.

She giggled to herself. No way could she be more forward with him than she already had.

"What's so funny?" a nasally voice asked. "Table two is still waiting for their appetizers."

Megan exhaled slowly. "Table two already has their appetizers and their salads," she informed her boss, careful to keep her tone light and even.

"Always slacking, running off at the mouth, not listening to your superiors…" Dave's upper lip curled back into a sneer. "You think you're all high and mighty, but you're nothing special. I could replace you easily."

"So why don't you?" She turned her back to him to add a tray of various meats to the oven.

"Who says I haven't been calling around and making inquiries?"

Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe not. It was impossible to tell. Dave Fremount's arrogance was only exceeded by his overinflated sense of self-worth.

"Just fire me already then," she said wearily. At least then she'd have a small severance package, although finding another job before rent was due might prove impossible. The thought churned her stomach. Maybe she ate too many eggs this morning. Normally, she only grabbed some toast in the morning before work, preferring to keep her stomach mostly empty. The more appetizing the smell of her cooking, the better she knew her dishes to be. The hungrier she was, the sharper her nose, for whatever reason. It worked for her.
A secret I can't share with Lucca because he'd think I'm crazy. Maybe I am a little. I just want to race home and see if he's left me a message yet. Probably hasn't. If he does read those magazines, he'll make me wait a week or even longer before calling so he doesn't look desperate.

"I'm not firing you. Yet." Dave stalked away as fast as his girth would allow.

He won't fire me. He doesn't want to pay for my severance.
Which meant she had a job, at least for now, but Lucca was right. She really did need to look for another position.

By the time two rolled around, the flow of customers eased enough that Megan prepared herself a buffalo chicken wrap. It was quick and simple, and one of her go-to's for lunch. She kept all of the ingredients for it in the fridge, so Dave couldn't complain that she was eating his food, even though the agreement she'd signed stipulated she could have one free meal a shift. It also stipulated that if she worked overtime, she'd get paid extra, and never once had that happened so she didn't dare eat his food in case he decided to dock it out of her pay.

Just another man I can't trust.

Finally, her shift ended, and she rushed out of the place, not wanting to be cornered by Dave or by his girlfriend waitress, who had been eyeing her all day long. Ever since Katie started working there, Megan hadn't liked her. She was slow and lazy and tended to forget her customers' special requests, which sometimes meant double or triple the amount of work for Megan.

She strolled up and down the nearby streets, paying strict attention to every restaurant she passed, but none had any help wanted signs. The ones still opened, she inquired to the host or hostess about job openings, but other than a few wait-staffing positions, there weren't any cooking positions available, at least not nearby.

What to do? Expand her search? But several restaurants were closing now and besides, if she was honest with herself, she wanted to see if Lucca had called her. Pathetic maybe, but she needed some happiness in her life right now.

Walking back to her place was the worst part of every day. She spent hours rushing about to prepare food, and then she had to walk on her tired legs and sore feet home. Today especially she was sore.

Immediately, she checked her messages. None. Disappointment washed over.
I shouldn't be surprised. Seriously, what guy would call right away? None.

Still, she brought the cordless phone into the bathroom. She needed a bubble bath. A glass of wine would be nice, but she had to wait until payday to afford another bottle. All she ever got was the cheap stuff, but it helped to relax her on trying days. Any day Dave talked to her was trying.

Once she had a good amount of bubbles and the temperature was just right, Megan eased into the tub. It was small, almost cramped, but she made due. She closed her eyes, and her thoughts began to wander to a certain Italian man with amazing smoldering eyes and great dark hair. A rather classic nose and strong jaw and even stronger pecs and his biceps… His abs, she could wash clothes on them. And between his legs, his penis, boy oh boy did he know how to use it, how to swivel his hips and hit all the right places.

Her hands rubbed soap all of her nipples. They pebbled immediately, and she imagined it was Lucca touching her. Slowly, she made her hands trail down her flat stomach to her slick folds. One hand worked on her clit as she added one, two, three fingers inside herself. It was all too easy to pretend her fingers were his penis, and she was just starting to work herself into a frenzy when the phone rang.

Megan stilled then pulled her fingers out. She grabbed her towel and, flustered, tried to wipe her hands dry but the towel fell into the bath.

Her heart was ready to pound out of her chest. The phone rang for the third or fourth time as she climbed out, yanked her work shirt off the floor, and dried her soapy fingers off. The last ring was cut off just as she answered. She had been too late.

That's what I get for fooling around with myself.

Chuckling to herself, she resumed her bath, this time washing her body and hair, and then she climbed into bed. Even though she had only spent one night with Lucca, her bed felt empty without him.

That's no reason to think you have to go and get yourself a man.

Then again, if the man was as funny and hot and sexy and delicious as Lucca…

Chapter Nine: Working Guy

Lucca knew how to play the game. He knew how it worked, how to drive a woman crazy while in bed and while away so that she'd keep the bed warm and ready when he decided to return.