Wanton Heat (A Feel the Heat Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (4 page)

His business was her future. She had to remember that. Because that inner vixen she’d deliberately locked away for this entire trip? Was getting feisty, rattling her self-imposed cage to escape.

It would be immense fun to take down a smug bastard like Dominic.

“Refreshments?” He gestured at a mahogany side bar, where someone had laid out a paper-thin porcelain tea set and a mini-tray of baklava.

Her mouth watered, but she shook her head. Last thing she needed was nuts stuck in her teeth while she tried to sway him. “No, thanks, I’d rather get started.”

“Suit yourself.” He sat at the head of the table, leaving her in the awkward position of having to choose a seat. It would need to be close enough to him for him to see the iPad screen, but that would be too close for comfort. Damn.

She chose the chair on his right, slid her iPad out, and set it up on its stand. It slipped slightly, courtesy of her sweaty palms, and he reached out, steadying it. Unfortunately, she’d been doing the same thing, and his hand enclosed hers. Long, elegant fingers. Broad palm. Firm grip. And heat, so much heat that seeped into her skin and zapped her arm like an injection of pheromones.

“Thanks,” she said, casually slipping her hand out from under his and resisting the urge to cradle it with the other. “First, I’d like to thank you for giving AW Advertising this chance to meet with you.”

“I was left no choice.”

She didn’t understand his bitter response, nor did she want to. She had a job to do and that was convince him that Kaluna Resort’s advertising campaign was in his best interests.

Her finger swiped the iPad to bring up her first PowerPoint slide, though she didn’t need to look at the screen. She’d mentally rehearsed this a million times and could recite her spiel in her sleep.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Kai Kaluna recently hired AW Advertising to run his worldwide ad campaign for his resorts in the Whitsundays, the Caribbean, the South Pacific, Mexico, and the Mediterranean.”

She brought up another slide, featuring the island of Ancora, owned by the guy sitting in front of her, eyeing her with wary disdain. “Like most of Italy, the recession has hit the Kaluna Resort on Ancora hard. Tourism is at an all-time low in this region despite the natural beauty and obvious charms.”

She flicked through a few more slides, highlighting a breathtaking island she couldn’t wait to explore: azure ocean, pristine beaches, secluded coves, and rocky outcrops. Ancora had captured her imagination from the first moment she’d started researching. Something about its unspoiled beauty, its inherent wildness, called to her.

“To counteract this ongoing downward trend, we propose a major worldwide campaign to attract tourists back to Ancora.” She paused for emphasis. “And in turn, Osturo, considering no one can get to the other island unless they come via here.”

If she’d expected a flicker of interest or a change in his dour expression, she would be disappointed. Nothing. Not even a spark.

“Kai Kaluna has set an extremely generous budget. And as you know from the e-mails the developer cc’d us both on, he needs to update the existing resort with a few minor renovations before we advertise the place to the world.” She swiped to another page, showing an artist’s impression of what the new, revamped Ancora resort would look like. “This is what will be the new focus of Ancora—”

“No.” He stood so abruptly his chair slammed into the wall behind him.

Stunned, she stared up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.” He towered over her, looking like a demented demon. “I said no.”

“But I haven’t gotten through a quarter of my presentation.” Her hands fluttered helplessly between the iPad and him. “You need to see the projected figures and the spreadsheets an influx of tourists will—”

“What part of ‘no’ can’t you understand?”

And with that, he stormed out of the room, leaving her wanting to punch something. Preferably the prince’s stubborn head.

Chapter Two

Zoe took several deep calming breaths and willed her anger to fade before she did something stupid, like follow up on that impulse to punch the prince.

He’d walked out on her.

Who the hell did he think he was? A boorish, royal prick obviously used to treating people like crap, that’s who.

She’d barely started her presentation, and he’d rejected it? No way would she stand for that. She’d make His Haughty Highness listen to her if she had to tie him down to do it.

An erotic image of doing just that popped into her head, and she blinked, needing to dismiss it. No time for fantasies when she had a job to do, one that didn’t involve assaulting one very stubborn royal pain in the ass.

Unsure whether she should go in search of Dominic or wait until he calmed down and hopefully returned, she slid her iPad back into her portfolio and stood.

“Hope I’m not interrupting?” An elderly woman stuck her head around the door, and Zoe was instantly struck by the resemblance to Dominic. They both had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and those piercing blue eyes. Queen Catarina.

“Not at all,” Zoe said, unsure whether to bow or grovel or kiss the woman’s hand as she stepped into the den and closed the door behind her. “I’m Zoe Keaton.”

She settled for holding out her hand for the queen to shake and thankfully, the older woman did just that.

“Pleased to meet you, dear. I’m Catarina.”

Impressed by the queen’s informality, Zoe waited until Catarina sat in Dominic’s recently vacated chair before resuming her seat. “I was meeting with Dominic.”

Catarina nodded. “Thought so, when I saw him storm out of here.”

“He didn’t like what I had to say.”

Catarina smiled. “He can be obtuse.”

Zoe could think of other words to describe him.

“He’s an astute businessman, but he’s taking so long to pull this region out of its slump…” Catarina shook her head. “I sometimes wonder if he believes change on the islands will desecrate the memory of his parents.”

Zoe had read about the death of Dominic’s parents in a Swiss Alps avalanche three years ago, followed by the death of his fiancée in a car crash a year later. By all reports, Dominic had withdrawn from society ever since.

She didn’t blame him for being a recluse—losing three people he loved in a year would devastate anyone—but she thought it was foolish for a businessman who’d studied at Oxford and spent considerable time in London’s financial district to cut himself off from the running of islands he predominantly owned due to grief.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.

“Thank you, dear.” Catarina steepled her fingers and rested her forearms on the table, pinning Zoe with a disconcerting stare. “I’ll be blunt. When my son Franco died, all his land holdings on Ancora and Osturo passed to Dominic. So he owns most of the land on these islands, which are in desperate need of a financial injection.
Kaluna wants to expand and advertise, but thanks to a stipulation Dominic’s nonno made when the first contracts were signed, he can’t move forward without Dominic’s agreement
.” She smiled. “I’m hoping you can coerce Dominic into rethinking his rigid stance.”

Disoriented by the queen’s directness, Zoe responded in kind. “While I appreciate your candor, if Dominic can’t be swayed by you, what makes you think I’ll have more success?”

The impish gleam in Catarina’s eyes made Zoe wary. “Because when people are resistant to change, it often helps to hear the harsh truth from a stranger, an impartial party.”

“I’m far from impartial, considering I have an agenda in being here.”

Catarina nodded. “Exactly, which is why I hope you’ll listen to me.”

Being given advice by Dominic’s grandmother in such surreal circumstances, Zoe relaxed into her chair. “Brokering this deal is important for all of us, so whatever advice you can give me I’ll take.”

“It’s quite simple. You need to present your offer in an environment where Dominic can’t escape.” Catarina’s eyes sparkled with mischief, taking years off her wrinkled face.

“I’m not sure I understand?”

“You need to kidnap him.”

Zoe stared at Catarina like she’d lost her mind. Kidnap Dominic? Shame her research on the queen hadn’t divulged that the old woman was completely batty.

Catarina chuckled. “You had planned on touring Ancora tomorrow? Well, there’s a big storm coming in. Legendary for these islands.”

Zoe glanced out the window at the clear blue sky. Yep, Catarina had definitely lost her royal marbles.

“The last storm of this magnitude was forty years ago. Back then, it lasted days, so that will give you plenty of time to convince Dominic of the wisdom of your proposal.” Catarina glanced at her watch and stood. “Come. We don’t have much time.”

Zoe paused and racked her brain to come up with a polite way of saying “Are you out of your freaking mind?”

“I’ll ensure all is in readiness at the dock, and I’ll get Dominic down to the boat in an hour.” Catarina’s gaze flickered over her from head to foot. “That gives you plenty of time to change. The cottage we use on the island is well-stocked and has weathered many storms, so you’ll be safe there.”

Zoe didn’t know what was worse. Being bundled off to a remote island in the middle of killer weather by a crazy queen, or acknowledging that a small part of her was actually looking forward to this. She’d thought she’d left her adventurous ways behind when she’d landed on Osturo. Maybe this new stage of her life was only just beginning?

“With all due respect, Catarina, this scheme sounds a little outlandish.”

Code for “you’re nuttier than a jar of peanut butter.”

Catarina straightened and pinned her with an imperious gaze that certified her royal lineage. “Do you want your presentation to succeed or not?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“Then this is the way you’ll succeed. Dominic is too wound up to check incoming weather, and he won’t know of our collusion.” Catarina’s expression softened as she reached out to pat Zoe’s shoulder. “Trust me, my dear. I’ve done an extensive background check on you. You’re just the woman my grandson needs…to show him the future doesn’t have to be influenced by the past.”

Catarina’s pause set off warning bells in Zoe’s head. Surely the queen wasn’t trying to matchmake? Being stranded on an island could be construed as romantic. If Zoe didn’t want to kick Dominic’s ass so much. But she was passing through and so far removed from the type of woman Catarina should choose for her grandson, it wasn’t funny. She wasn’t Italian. She wasn’t nobility. She wanted something from them, and famous people hated the constant barrage of usurpers ready to take advantage of them. And lastly, she was a total stranger who could have nefarious reasons for being here. It just didn’t make sense.

Unless Catarina thought her grandson needed to get laid to lighten up? Eww. Zoe wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“Are you trying to set us up?” Zoe blurted, unable to hold her tongue a second longer.

“Let’s call this a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Catarina’s serene smile grated. “You’re lively and bright and far removed from the women my grandson usually spends time with, so I’m hoping that will work in your favor to convince him of the wisdom of agreeing to advertise Ancora.”

Zoe didn’t buy the queen’s trite speech considering the roguish twinkle in her eyes.

Catarina leaned forward like a co-conspirator. “Will you do it?”

She should say no. This was crazier than anything she’d done in the past. Kidnap a prince? What the hell was she thinking?

But she had to nail this presentation, and having a captive audience, one who couldn’t escape because of a raging storm outside, sounded like an opportunity too good to pass up.

She nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Catarina laughed. “You won’t regret it.”

Zoe bit back her first response:
I already do.

…

Dominic stomped around the glass-enclosed sunroom, resisting the urge to kick something.

Dio mio
, Zoe had gotten him riled, charging into that meeting like a goddess.

Though in all fairness, the sexual awareness fizzing his blood wasn’t her fault. He’d been too long without a woman, and it showed. His cock hardened every time he laid eyes on the infuriating woman. And he responded by taking his frustrations out on her.

Not good.

He shouldn’t have stormed out of her presentation, no matter how pissed off he was. Would’ve been smarter to hear her out, then show her the door. But his grandmother had blackmailed him into allowing the representative from AW Advertising to stay for a week. See the islands. Get a feel for the campaign that would ultimately boost visitors and fill their coffers.

Now that he’d laid eyes on Zoe Keaton, he knew why. Nonna was up to her usual matchmaking tricks. And killing the proverbial two birds with one stone. Having a feisty, attractive woman trying to change his mind would achieve both of his grandmother’s goals in one go. He knew she meant well, but her machinations had taken a surprising twist if she thought Zoe was his type. Or was Nonna getting cunning in her old age?

She’d failed with her last few fix-ups, women physically similar to Lilia. Maybe she’d deliberately chosen a woman he’d least likely fraternize with this time around? Knowing Nonna, she would’ve done a thorough background check before allowing Zoe anywhere near him, which begged the question: what was it about Zoe Keaton that had captivated his nonna as much as Zoe had him?

Why couldn’t the ad agency have sent a nerdy, middle-aged man instead of a sassy twenty-something vixen? The woman was trouble. And now he’d have to apologize for being a boor.

“I hope you’re going to apologize to that young lady.”

Almost a direct echo of his thoughts, he turned at the sound of his grandmother’s voice to find her standing in the doorway with her arms folded. A deep frown creased her brow, and she radiated disapproval. He should know. She’d been the same when he’d smashed a priceless vase at five while kicking a soccer ball inside. And at eight, when he’d trashed her prized roses while weeding in the garden. And at twenty-nine, when he’d brought Lilia home and announced her as his fiancée.
Mannaia
, had Catarina’s disapproval meter shot off the scale that day. Nonna hadn’t liked the cool blonde on sight. Which made her approval of Zoe all the more interesting.

Nonna had good instincts for reading people. It wasn’t until Lilia’s death that he understood the true meaning of treachery. Listening to Catarina’s warnings might have saved him all that pain. And Nonna didn’t know the half of it.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, sounding like a sulky brat.

She tut-tutted and entered the room. “You weren’t raised to be rude.”

He hadn’t been raised to change the face of these islands forever, either. But he was under increasing pressure from investors, the only reason why he’d agreed to host a spokeswoman from AW Advertising here. That, and his nonna’s refusal to see a cardiologist unless he agreed.

Courtesy of his grandfather, who’d brokered the first hotel deal, Kaluna had built an eco-friendly resort on Ancora and was serious about preserving the environment. An environment Dominic would do anything to protect.

Kaluna’s proposed expansion and worldwide advertising campaign to draw visitors to the area may look good on paper, but the unspoiled beauty of his homeland could be lost forever.

He believed in progress. He believed in financial security for this region. What he didn’t believe in was compromising his principles—his father’s principles—to achieve it.

“Why are you so resistant to change, Nicci Ricci?”

Great, now Nonna was pulling out the big guns, utilizing the childhood nickname only she used.

“I’m not—”

“I beg to differ.” She held up a hand, the skin on the back of it almost translucent. “We’re the only members of the Ricci family left, discounting your cousins Luciano and Gregoro.” She made a disgusted sound. “As if those two care about our islands.”

Dominic didn’t blame his cousins Luc and Greg for spreading their wings beyond Europe. Both had American mothers who had married into the Ricci family, and both women had been widowed young, so it stood to reason that the boys had grown up in America. At times, Dominic envied them that freedom. They’d never had an opportunity to grow attached to the islands like he had. They’d never had the noose of responsibility gently looped around their necks in their teens like he had, by a father who adored these islands like he’d constructed them by hand. And that noose had progressively tightened since his father had died.

“Just because Luc and Greg aren’t around much doesn’t mean they don’t care.”

A fond smile creased Catarina’s face. “Still defending those two louts, huh?”

“They were never half as bad as you thought.” Both boys were three years older than him and according to Nonna, had consistently led him astray until they’d left Osturo at the age of thirteen. Dominic had idolized his cousins and saw them far too infrequently these days. Luc had settled in New York, Greg in Florida, a world away from here.

“They should come visit their nonna more often,” she said, a hint of wistfulness mingling with the sadness in her tone. “Maybe they’ll take time out of their busy schedules when I’m in a wooden box being lowered into the ground.”

She made a sign of the cross, and Dominic bit back a smile. Catarina was a spry seventy-five and could reach one hundred if she paid more attention to her heart issues. But she was fond of dramatics, a by-product of watching too many soap operas on cable, her one vice.

“Maybe they can return for a holiday once the developers build high-rise resorts across the islands and tear the place apart if you have your way?”