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“Is something funny?”

His stare was bold, and he assessed her frankly. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt less confident.”

“Why? Because we’re different?”

“Maybe, or maybe it’s just because you don’tknowme.”

As strange as she found his statement, something within the message remained clear. The man was the biggest mystery to her and that was by design. She doubted few people knew who Giovanni Battaglia really was.

“Those are gorgeous.” She pointed to the wild blooms of red, lilac, and pink flowers. ”What are they?”

“Rhododendrons and a few azaleas. They aren’t my favorite. I will introduce you to my favorite flower.”

A man, tall and pale with a flat unreadable expression, waited for them at the center of the lower level steps. A divided picturesque stairway circled him and ended at the doors of the villa. On either side, four austere, large lions carved of stone stood guard. Mira’s mind conjured images of the days of Napoleon’s men bounding up the steps with their swords holstered in their royal uniforms. An elderly couple stopped to gawk along a trail to the east. She’d gotten a few stares once she ventured out of Naples. At first in Milan they were because of her celebrity, but here she knew the stares were quite different. She figured not many people of color vacationed in Bellagio. There was a distinct feeling of privilege that went through her. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

Theoverly tanned gentleman dressed in a dark navy blue suit stepped forward to greet them. His gaze volleyed from her face to Giovanni’s before their eyes could connect. He greeted Giovanni with a kiss to both of his cheeks. Strange. Men greeted each other in Italy this way often. At home, she’d never seen it done so freely.

“What did he just say?” Mira whispered.

“They’re ready for you.” Giovanni extended his arm for her to lead. She climbed the steps and went left up another spacious flight before walking through the villa doors. They entered a cool unnaturally quiet entranceway. Portraits hung above busts carved out of marble. Each bust depicted nobility and was centered on an elegant pedestal. They passed a few baby cannons that were aligned symmetrically and pointed north.

“This place looks like a museum.” She observed. Giovanni wasn’t at her side but a few steps behind. Mira tried not to walk with too much of a sway to her hips. She didn’t dare check to see how he watched her. Each time their eyes met, the pull on her insides made her courage falter. Even now her stomach fluttered with excitement from his unwavering interest. Kei was once passionate for her. Always attentive and romantic, their cultural differences in New York didn’t matter. Being different transformed her life.

The light sway of her hips made his blood hot in his veins. The hem of her dress only reached two inches above her knees. She had lovely toned legs, and with her feet perched in her high heel shoes, the calf muscles to the back of her legs bunched and her thighs became tight, shapely with each step. All of which excited him. Giovanni rubbed his jaw and shook it off. The lady wasn’t one he’d likely pursue. She challenged him too much, had too many opinions, and questioned everything she saw. He liked his women more accepting of things they didn’t know or understand.

A quick glance at his watch and he knew the business with Calderone required a few discreet meetings with the other families in this region. Word had spread of the raid of Lorenzo’s restaurant, and he intended to silence all wagging tongues. His cousin’s recent tantrum had not been forgotten. However, she compelled him to delay the matter, and this intrigued him. Dominic had made the arrangements for their day. A woman like her would expect to be romanced rather than seduced. He could aim to do both.

The villa didn’t often open its doors to the public. They would dine in the glass house with the panoramic view of the gardens. The staff had set the table over white linen with navy plates and gold utensils. The centerpiece had an elegant arrangement of blue roses; his mother’s favorite flower was among them. Dominic had an odd sense of humor. The sight of the flower made his heart skip a beat and his mood lighten. Should he share the reason?

“Oh how lovely! I’ve never seen a blue rose before,” she exclaimed. It was the reaction most women had when they saw the flower. He assumed it was also how his father seduced his mother away from her family.

“It is my mother’s flower. Our family grows them; we even have blooms here in the gardens.”

“Really? That’s the first time you mentioned your family interests.”

A sly smile lifted the corner of her rose-colored lips, and he felt his temperature rise. She liked to tease him. “Someday soon I’ll show you more about my interests.”

He eased out her chair, preferring to be the only man in the room to do so. Gracefully, she lowered into it and removed the dark blue napkin to spread across her lap. “This is sweet… all of this. I didn’t expect it.”

Giovanni held his tongue. He had no intention of apologizing further. In fact he found it surprising that she kept mentioning his prior behavior, especially since she had moved her business into property that was rightfully his. She was one of the few people living he’d ever apologized to. His father had probably sat up in his grave when the words fell from his lips.

“You American women like to lead.” He stated, his tone purposefully flat with little accusation.

The smile she offered in return was radiant. Her chocolate brown irises sparkled with curiosity. “Lead?”

“Yes, you and your friend are quite independent. Did you two build your company alone?”

“If you are implying that I didn’t need a man for my success, that’s correct. I have investors, but I own Mirabella’s. Fabiana and I have built our business from the ground up.”

“I’m not implying anything. I stated it.” Giovanni relaxed in his seat keeping his attention trained on her. She met his stare dead on. This, too, he appreciated. Her full bow shaped lips glistened with the loveliest rose-colored gloss, and her long lashes made even a blink from her a seductive invitation. “How is it? Being the boss?” he asked. The drink waiter came forward with a carafe of his selected wine.

“You tell me. Looks like you’re more of a boss than I.”

“A bit lonely at times. Unfulfilled?”

“No, not really. I stay busy.”

He nodded. “Which is probably why you’re so… uptight?” he mused.