Seduced by the Tycoon at Christmas Page 14

  The owner clasped his hands together, then gestured to the spiral staircase. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your private second-floor table.”

  Hearing noise and laughter coming from inside the restaurant, Zoe peered over the owner’s shoulder and scanned the room. Saturated with ivory and various shades of blue, the dining area and adjoining lounge were packed with well-dressed diners. Zoe couldn’t help gawking at the famous faces eating just an arm’s length away from her.

  The second floor was decked out in stone and glass. The elaborate chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling beautified the space. The air smelled of pinecones and garland, and the refreshing scent reminded Zoe of how much fun she’d had in the summer with Jiovanni and their friends. They’d done it all: barbecued at neighborhood parks, fished and camped at Lake Garda, and danced at music festivals. Though Zoe couldn’t imagine anything better than attending the Il Divo concert with Romeo later that evening.

  “Since it’s the holidays, I couldn’t resist decorating the table in bright, festive colors,” the owner said with a proud smile. “I trust that everything is to your liking...”

  The round table in the middle the dining room had gleaming silverware, gold, silk linens and a bouquet filled with poinsettias. Hundreds of miniature candles twinkled, and the female pianist played “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of Year” quietly in the background.

  “This is one of our finest and most popular wines.” Beaming, he picked up the gold-and-black bottle off the table, opened it, and filled their glasses to the brim. “Your server will be here shortly with your first course.”

  The owner nodded, then marched toward the staircase, his toothy smile still in place.

  “That’s odd,” Zoe said, glancing around the room. “How come it’s jam-packed downstairs, with dozens of people waiting for a table, but empty up here?”

  Romeo pulled out her chair. “Because I rented out the second floor for our date. Every time we go out for dinner, you strike up a conversation with the people seated nearby, or end up making a new friend at the lounge or bar—”

  “You have a problem with me being nice?” she said, taking a seat at the table. “Why?”

  Romeo picked up his napkin, draped it across his legs and plucked a piece of toasted garlic bread out of the breadbasket. “No, of course not, but I’d like to spend a quiet evening with my girl without every Tom, Dick and Harry flirting with you. Is that too much to ask?”

  Hearing Romeo call her his girl gave Zoe a rush, made her feel warm inside.

  “Don’t you think you’re exaggerating a tad bit?” she asked, pinching two fingers together. “I’m a PR director, not a famous reality TV star with a billion Twitter followers.”

  “You might as well be. You attract attention wherever you go, and I’d be lying if I said I like it. I don’t. The truth is, I want you all to myself tonight.”

  The waiter arrived with the first course, and while they ate their Tuscan chickpea soup, they discussed their busy workday, how talented the pianist was and the menu Romeo had created with the head chef for their date. “It has nine courses?” she repeated, bewildered by his words. “That’s insane. I enjoy a good meal as much as the next girl, but I’ll never be able to eat that much food. My waistline won’t forgive me if I do!”

  “As the popular Italian saying goes, ‘the appetite comes from eating.’ I suspect as the night wears on you’ll care less about the calories and more about the next delicious course.”

  Wanting to know more about the acclaimed restaurant, Zoe picked up the menu, opened it and read the short paragraph about its forty-year history. Impressed with the owner’s bio, she flipped to the second page and scanned the list of dishes.

  Her eyes widened. Five hundred euros per person? Two thousand euros for their bottle of wine? Twenty-five percent gratuity? Fanning her face with the menu, she swallowed hard. Zoe didn’t want to even think about how much Romeo had shelled out to rent out the second floor of the five-star restaurant, but her curiosity got the best of her. Zoe asked Romeo for details, but he changed the subject. He questioned her about Casa Di Moda, and she forgot about the restaurant’s outrageous prices and chatted excitedly about her job and her colleagues. “I feel fortunate to be at Casa Di Moda,” Zoe said, speaking from her heart. “Every company has its issues, and some days are better than others, but I’m happy at the fashion house and I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else.”

  “What are your long-term plans? How much longer do you plan to live in Milan?”

  “I don’t know.” Zoe took a piece of garlic bread from the basket, and tasted it. It was warm and moist, and she was so hungry she quickly finished it. “I miss my family. It’s hard being away from them, especially during the holidays, but I’ve always dreamed of living and working abroad. I’m not ready to leave Milan just yet.”

  The waiter arrived with the second course, placed everything on the table, then left.

  Zoe picked up her fork and tasted the squid Bolognese, savored the unique flavors tickling her taste buds. The appetizer was packed with so many spices Zoe pressed her eyes shut and moaned in appreciation.

  “If you met the right guy, would you consider living in Milan permanently?”

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to say. Italy’s a long way from home.”

  Romeo shook his head. “Not if you have a private jet at your disposal.”

  “You’re so right. What was I thinking? I’ll tell Aurora and Davide to have their Boeing 727 ready for Monday.” Zoe snapped her fingers. “Oh shucks, I forgot they don’t have one.”

  “I do. Anytime you want to use it, just ask. Il mio getto è vostro jet.”

  Zoe raised an eyebrow. My jet is your jet? He can’t be serious! Convinced he was teasing her, she picked up her glass and took a sip. The fruity liquid took the edge off her nerves, helped her to relax even though Romeo was gazing at her intently.

  “What about you?” she asked, deciding it was his turn to be in the hot seat. “Have you always wanted to be an investment banker, or did your parents encourage your career path?”

  “When I was a kid my dream was to become a professional tap dancer, just like my idol, Gregory Hines. But my father threatened to disown me if I didn’t get my MBA, so I gave it up.”

  “You can tap-dance? No way! Are you any good?”

  Nodding, he wiped his mouth with his napkin, then dropped it on his empty salad bowl. “Of course I was good. I studied tap for several years. My instructor said I had raw, natural talent. I wanted to move to the States to study at the University of the Arts in the City of Brotherly Love. It’s one of the most prestigious dance schools in the world...”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re pulling my leg.”

  Romeo stood. “Normally, I don’t tap-dance to slow songs, but what the heck. There’s a first time for everything, so here goes.”

  Intrigued, Zoe put down her fork and stared at him intently. What is he doing?

  Tapping his feet in rhythm to the music, he lifted his leg high in the air and tapped the ball of his foot against the floor. Romeo rocked back and forth, bouncing from one leg to the next, swinging and shuffling his long limbs. He swung his arms in time to the beat, and watching him make music with his feet excited her. He moved with such ease and confidence, Zoe was mesmerized, couldn’t take her eyes off him. The pianist finished playing “The Little Drummer Boy,” and Romeo struck a pose—head cocked, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Forgetting she was at an upscale restaurant and not a sporting event, Zoe surged to her feet, cheering at the top of her lungs. “Romeo, that was incredible!” she praised, blown away by his impromptu performance. “You come alive when you tap-dance. It’s amazing to see.”

  Returning to the table, Romeo took his seat, grabbed his glass and took a sip of his ice water. “I haven’t danced in years, but that was a
lot of fun. It brought back good memories.”

  “How did you learn to dance like that?”

  “Fred Astaire. My mom used to watch his movies when I was a kid, and to make her laugh, I’d try to imitate his moves.” He wore a twisted smile. “My mom thought I had talent and enrolled me in dance classes. Everything was great until my dad found out.”

  Zoe leaned forward in her seat, eager to hear more.

  “He told me I needed to be ‘a man,’ and that I’d never make it as a tap dancer, so I got my business degree at the University of Milan, and my MBA in international business a couple years later.”

  “Do you regret not pursuing your dream of being a tap dancer?”

  His jaw clenched, but he spoke in a calm voice. “Life’s too short for regrets.”

  “I know, I know, life’s about closing deals, making money and wooing clients,” she quipped, quoting him verbatim. “But do you wish you had done things differently? Do you regret not following in the footsteps of your childhood idol, Gregory Hines?”

  Silence fell across the table. It lasted so long, Zoe feared Romeo was upset with her.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I love what I do, and I’m good at it. Most importantly, my dad is proud of me and my success. In the Italian culture, pleasing your parents is everything, and even though my old man was hard on me, I never wanted to disappoint him.”

  A grim expression covered his face as he spoke about his tense relationship with his father and his tumultuous childhood. Zoe’s heart ached for him. She’d been raised in a loving, supportive home with parents who praised her accomplishments. Thanks to her mom and dad, she was living her dreams. Listening to Romeo talk about his background and the stress of growing up in a high-profile family, Zoe was more convinced than ever that Lizabeth had lied to the tabloids about him. She felt guilty for giving Romeo a hard time when they first met.

  Zoe’s thoughts returned to that fateful November morning, and she cringed. She of all people should have known better than to judge a book by its cover. Because of her dark skin and kinky hair, people assumed she was an uneducated African immigrant, often treating her with disdain. But once she spoke Italian, they sang another tune. Meeting Romeo had taught her a valuable lesson. Everyone deserved a fair shake—even dangerously handsome playboys.

  Every few minutes, the waitstaff would arrive with another expertly prepared dish and their conversation would be put on hold. Dining at La Piastra Calda wasn’t about the food, it was about the ambience, and Zoe enjoyed it all. Eating at the celebrity hot spot was a thrilling, exciting event, and Zoe couldn’t wait to tell her sister all about her dream date with Romeo.

  “Have you ever been engaged?” Romeo asked, leaning back comfortably in his chair.

  Heat burned her cheeks, and her throat closed up, but she spoke in a calm voice.

  “Once, but it didn’t work out. He threatened to dump me if I traveled to Europe for the summer, so I broke things off.” Zoe confided in him about her past relationships, was open and honest about the mistakes she’d made with her first love and her burning desire to get married and have children. She tried to gauge Romeo’s mood, to figure out if her confession had turned him off, but he was a hard man to read and wore a blank expression on his face.

  “I don’t know if I’ll ever get married or have kids,” he said, shrugging his shoulder.

  “But you were engaged for over a year. What happened to change your mind?”

  “I proposed because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but my heart wasn’t in it.” Sadness filled his eyes, and he spoke in a somber tone. “I don’t think Lizabeth was ready for marriage, either. The only thing she seemed committed to was spending my money.”

  They sat in silence for several seconds.

  “From the moment we met, I was completely and utterly captivated by you...”

  Moved by the sincerity of his voice, Zoe leaned forward in her chair, desperate to hear more.

  “The more time we spend together, the more I desire you,” Romeo confessed, intertwining his fingers with hers. “To be honest, these days I can’t think of anything but you...”

  Zoe’s mouth dried. It was hard to breathe, to think straight when Romeo was gazing deep in her eyes and caressing her hands. Questions about the future rose in her mind, but it felt like her lips were glued together, and she couldn’t pry them apart.

  The waitress arrived with the final course, and Zoe had never been more relieved to see anyone in her life. The tension in the air made her temperature climb, her palms sweat, and when the lights dimmed Zoe wondered what other surprises Romeo had up his sleeve. Their conversation was getting intense, his hands too close for comfort, and if he licked his lips one more time, he was going to be dessert.

  “We’ll need to leave in the next thirty minutes to be on time for the concert.”

  Zoe snatched her purse off the table and rose to her feet. “Why wait? Let’s go now.”

  “Someone’s anxious to see Il Divo,” Romeo teased.

  “Damn skippy! I’ve been looking forward to tonight for weeks.”

  “Is that why you agreed to be my date? Because you have the hots for the male quartet?”

  Zoe flashed an innocent smile. “I’ll never tell.”

  * * *

  Zoe sat beside Romeo in the Teatro degli Arcimboldi staring at Il Divo as they sang the last song of their three-hour concert. Mesmerized by the sound of their melodic voices, she closed her eyes and settled back comfortably in her cushy seat. The quartet was so talented, and their voices were so soulful, Zoe got goose bumps. It was an outstanding show, hands down the best concert she’d ever been to, and their heartfelt rendition of the classic Christmas song moved her to tears. Seasoned performers who’d traveled all over the world thrilling fans for years, they sang in Spanish, English and Italian, and wowed the audience with their stellar vocals and dance moves.

  Applause erupted across the auditorium. Dumping her shawl on her seat, Zoe stood and cupped her hands around her mouth. She shouted louder than anyone, whistled and cheered as the quartet waved to their fans, then marched off the stage in single file.

  “What do you think?” Romeo asked with a lopsided grin, hugging her to his side. “Did I get ripped off, or were our front-row seats worth every penny?”

  Overcome with happiness, Zoe rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled against him. Her heart was full, bursting with joy, and she reveled in the moment and how incredible it felt being wrapped up in his arms. “Romeo, thank you for an incredible evening...”

  His aftershave washed over her, derailing her thoughts, and seconds passed before she regained the use of her tongue. The oh-so-sexy tycoon was her weakness, the only man she’d ever met who made her want her to break all of the rules. It was a challenge to keep her wits about her when all she could think about was making love to him.

  “This is going to go down as one of the best dates I’ve ever had.”

  “There’s still more to come.”

  Her body tensed, and the smile slid off her face.

  “Zoe, baby, relax. It’s not what you think. I have a surprise for you.”

  Relief flooded her body, and Zoe moved toward Romeo instead of away from him. “Another one? Don’t you think you’ve done enough? You’ve been spoiling me since you picked me up from my apartment. I don’t think my heart can handle any more surprises tonight.”

  Fans streamed up the aisles to the marked exits, chatting and giggling, and Zoe wondered if she looked as exuberant as they did. Vibrating with excitement, she couldn’t wait to upload her pictures of the concert on her social media sites. She knew her girlfriends in the States would be green with envy when she told them about her wonderful, magical night with Romeo.

  “I’ve arranged for you to meet Il Divo.”

  “Sure you did
, and I’m twenty-one!” Zoe joked.

  “Baby, I’m serious. My publicist knows their manager, and she arranged everything.”

  Zoe stopped laughing. “Come again?”

  “You’ll meet Il Divo, take pictures with them and receive a swag bag filled with supercool autographed merchandise.”

  Before Zoe could respond, a redhead in a shapeless black gown appeared in the aisle, clutching a metal clipboard to her chest. “You must be Romeo.”

  “Guilty as charged,” he said with a boyish smile.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Giuseppe talks about you all the time, but don’t worry, I never believe anything he says.”

  Chuckling, he draped an arm around Zoe’s waist and hugged her to his side. “Thank you so much for the meet-and-greet passes, Anna-Marie. My girlfriend is a huge Il Divo fan, and she’s so excited to meet them, her hands are shaking.”

  Not just my hands. I’m shaking all over! Perspiration wet Zoe’s forehead and trickled down the back of her designer dress. She’d never fainted before and didn’t know what the signs and symptoms were, but her skin was clammy, and her head was spinning so fast Zoe feared she’d drop to the floor. Thankfully, Romeo was at her side. He gave her a reassuring smile, and the butterflies in her stomach vanished.

  “Right this way. The guys are excited to meet you, so follow me to their greenroom.”

  The tour manager took them onstage, past the black velvet curtains and down a long, narrow corridor swarming with lighting technicians, sound engineers, service staff and suit-clad men in designer sunglasses who looked important. The air held the faint scent of roses and cigar smoke, and Zoe could hear jazz music playing in the distance. They followed the redhead into a spacious room filled with scrumptious sofas and armchairs, stained-glass windows, and the largest fish tank Zoe had ever seen. And there, standing at the bar, was her favorite group of all time. Blown away, in such a state of shock she couldn’t speak, all Zoe could do was smile and nod. One by one, they hugged her and kissed her on each cheek. She felt like a ninny for clamming up and was grateful Romeo talked and cracked jokes with the group. The meet and greet was a blur, and although Zoe only said a few words, it was one of the coolest things that had happened to her since moving to Milan. They took pictures with the group, and Zoe beamed when the leader sing gave her an autographed gift bag filled with Il Divo merchandise.