Page 9 of Tempting the President (Oro Nero MC)

“I really don’t see what you have anything against Mr. Steele,” George says, her fingers flying over the espresso machine buttons without even looking.

“I never said I have anything against him.”

“Then why—”

“We just know each other because of Annie. It’s all professional between us.”

George only looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, her gaze briefly sliding to what I realize too late is probably a faint mark on my neck from our last “professional” encounter.

“He took the time to ask me about your preference for coffee,” George points out. “Your favorite pastry. Your reading habits. Does that sound ‘professional’ to you?”

“It’s called doing a background check. Billionaires like him do it all the time. He just wants to make sure his sister isn’t exposed to unwanted influences.”

“He also asked if you ever came here with another man.”

He did?

No, wait, stop it, Jayne.

You’re not supposed to care because you’re not in love with him.

“I really think he’s into you, Prof.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Why do you sound so sure?”

“Because he just said so.”

George points to someone behind my back as she speaks, but this just has me rolling my eyes.

“Very funny, George.”

Does she really think she can make me fall for the same trick again?

George laughs, setting down the latte she’s been making with a flourish. “I’m serious, Professor. He really is into you, and he admits it.”

“Of course he is. And I’m sure the next thing you’ll say is he’ll prove it by suddenly spinning me around— aaah!”

All I can do is cry out as someone does spin me around, and oh...my...goodness.

Dark eyes gleam down at me, and my heart threatens to leap out of my chest.

“I knew it. You guys really look good together.”

First, it was Lis. This time, it’s George. Am I doomed to have traitors as friends or is this all because of Patrizio Steele’s evil charm working its magic?

“Would you like some coffee, Mr. Steele—”

Patrizio briefly turns his gaze to George, his expression softening slightly in a way that tells me these two have built some kind of rapport through my coffee habits.

“Or would you like one beautiful professor to go?”

What the—

I let out an indignant growl even as Patrizio throws back his head with a laugh, the sound rich and warm in a way that makes several nearby patrons turn to look.

“Have a pleasant evening, George.”

George beams while carefully avoiding my glaring gaze, busying herself with wiping down the already spotless espresso machine.

“You, too, Mr. Steele, Professor Jayne.”

I try wriggling free as soon as Patrizio turns around. “Will you please let me down?”

“Not a chance, darling.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“Probably as many times as it takes you to realize you’re simply wasting your breath.”

Argh .

“This is entirely inappropriate—”

“Since when do you care about appropriate?” His voice lowers to that velvety rumble that makes me forget my own name.

Patrizio finally sets me down on my feet...but only because we’re inside the elevator, and he has me trapped between the wall and his big, hard body.

“You didn’t care about appropriate when you let me make you come against my penthouse wall.”

“Don’t—”

“Don’t what? Don’t remind you how responsive you were?”

“What happened was a mistake—”

“What happened was inevitable.”

Patrizio takes a step toward me as he speaks, and my heart slams against my ribs.

I know I should warn him against coming any closer, but all I can do is stare as...the elevator doors slide open, and I find myself caught between relief and regret.

You’re doomed, Jayne! You’re absolutely doomed!

I stumble out of the elevators...only to bump immediately into someone else.

The atmosphere shifts like a weather front. Three men stand in the penthouse foyer, their stillness striking me as wrong somehow. Their casual stances look rehearsed, calculated, as if they’ve arranged themselves specifically for our arrival.

“What are you all doing here?”

Despite the faint irritation in Patrizio’s voice, his touch is gentle as he immediately cups my elbow to help me regain my balance. But even so, I still sense the change in him. A new alertness, with the way his body angles slightly to position himself between me and the others.

“You must be Professor Stuart.”

The other men look exactly like what I’d expect Patrizio’s inner circle to be. All of them tall. All of them handsome. All radiating that same magnetic danger that seems to cling to Patrizio like expensive cologne.

But each wears it differently—one watches me with cool assessment, another with blank neutrality, the third with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We’ve heard a lot about you from Zio.”

It’s the man with the golden hair who speaks, his Italian flawless. While his tone seems friendly enough, I can’t help but notice how he’s referred to Annie’s older brother.

Zio, is it?

I’m not jealous or anything, but...I wonder if there’s any other woman who also calls him by this? I’m, um, just curious, that’s all.

Patrizio’s arm curves around my waist, and the possessiveness of his touch feels like a warning. He wants to stake a claim, and I...I find myself meekly accepting said claim for some reason.

Doomed, Jayne!

It seems that’s my middle name now.

Jayne “Doomed” Stuart!

“May I introduce you to my friends, Jayne?”

I nod, feeling rather self-conscious and ridiculously tongue-tied all of a sudden. I’m not acting like my age at all, but I can’t seem to help it. This is my first time to have a man introduce me to his friends, and it just makes everything between Patrizio and me feel so terrifyingly...real.

“This is Stefano Gold.”

The man with the golden hair inclines his head at Patrizio’s introduction, his eyes assessing me like I’m a business opportunity he hasn’t decided whether to invest in.

Everything about him screams controlled wildness, from the messy hair to the expensive suit with that one button that I’m tempted to think was left deliberately undone.

“He’s primarily in charge of the company’s business expansions.”

I catch that emphasis on “primarily,” wondering what his other responsibilities might be.

Patrizio then gestures to the man with silver eyes that miss nothing. He stands apart from the others, his back to the wall, giving him a clear view of both us and the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Jamie Ferros is our...VP for security.”

Jamie acknowledges me with a single nod, the motion economical. Unlike Stefano’s casual stance, Jamie holds himself with a rigid sense of formality, and it’s like being in the presence of a war hero.

“Um, hi.” I try my best to hide my confusion. It’s my first time to hear about a company VP...in charge of security? For a steel company? The position seems excessive unless...

I don’t have time to complete the thought before Patrizio continues.

“Gianluca, on the other hand, manages our interests in real estate.”

All I can do is smile awkwardly at the last of Patrizio’s friends, a man with dark hair and Mediterranean features whose face gives away absolutely nothing. Unlike the others, Gianluca offers no reaction at all; he might as well be looking through me rather than at me.

The three men form a loose half-circle that communicates importance without being overtly threatening. They exchange glances loaded with meaning, making me acutely aware I’ve stepped into a world with its own language.

“If you’re all here,” Patrizio says, his tone changing to something I haven’t heard before, “then I assume we have a business meeting that can’t be postponed?”

“I’m afraid so.” It’s Jamie who speaks this time, his voice surprisingly soft for someone who looks like he could disassemble a man with his bare hands. But the seriousness in his eyes contradicts his mild tone. “There’s been a development that requires immediate attention.”

Something passes between them, and I feel Patrizio’s hand tighten at my waist.

“I’ll need a minute.”

Patrizio’s words have me quickly shaking my head. “I can just head back down on my own—”

Patrizio presses the elevator button as he cuts me off. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Uh, hello? Does he not see he’s being equally ridiculous?

“It’s just an elevator ride back to the cafe. I can manage—”

The words dry up in my throat as Gianluca steps forward, saying something to Patrizio too low for me to hear. Patrizio’s expression darkens for a split second before smoothing out again.

“I know you can,” Patrizio agrees, his voice gentle but firm. “But I still insist on walking you back.”

I have no choice but to follow him inside the elevator, but as soon as the doors close, Patrizio has me backed against the wall, and his hands braced on either side of my head.

Oh...no .

“I’m sorry about having to postpone our discussion.”

“I’m not.”

Patrizio only smiles, but it still feels like he’s called me a liar to my face.

“I want to kiss you.”

Oh!

“If you don’t want me to—”

His head starts to bend.

“Now’s the time to tell me to stop.”

Yes, stop.

I know that’s what I should say.

But instead I find myself reaching up and fisting my hands in his sweater, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between us.

His mouth finds mine with hunger that makes my entire body come alive. It’s nothing at all like the controlled seduction he demonstrated before. This time, it’s all raw need and barely restrained desire, and all I can do is gasp as his hands slide up to cup my breasts through my blouse.

“You like that, darling?”

His thumbs find my nipples as he asks this, and all I can do is moan. He starts working the buttons of my blouse with efficient fingers, and my head falls back against the elevator wall as he pushes the fabric aside.

My body shudders as I finally feel his touch against my bare skin.

“So damn beautiful...”

His mouth latches on to my breast, and I bite my lip to keep myself from crying out as his tongue circles my nipple. But when he starts sucking gently then harder, my control shatters, and his name slips out in a cry.

“Patrizio...”

“I know.” His free hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt, fingers finding the edge of my underwear. “Let me make you come, Jayne. Right here, right now.”

The combination of his mouth on my breast and his fingers so close to where I need them most makes my legs tremble. I’m so close, so desperate for release that I can’t think about where we are or why this is insane.

And then the elevator dings.

We spring apart like teenagers caught by parents, my hands scrambling to button my blouse while he straightens his sweater with hands that aren’t quite steady.

The doors open onto the lobby, where George is restocking the pastry case and a few customers are reading in the comfortable chairs. Normal, everyday life that feels surreal after the intensity of what just happened between the ground floor and the executive level.

I step out of the elevator on legs that feel like jelly, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled need. Patrizio has just proven he can make me forget everything except the way he makes me feel.

Patrizio follows me out, but something’s changed in his manner. Gone is the playboy billionaire, replaced by someone watchful and alert. His eyes sweep the cafe methodically, lingering on each exit and each unfamiliar face before returning to mine.

“This can’t happen again,” I mutter under my breath, turning back to face him.

“Can’t it?” His dark eyes burn with promise, but there’s something new there—a shadow of concern that wasn’t present before. “You’re fighting something inevitable, Jayne.”

I shake my head, desperately. “I’m serious. This can’t—”

Patrizio’s attention snaps to something over my shoulder, his expression hardening as he catches sight of someone near the entrance. When he looks back at me, all traces of flirtation have vanished.

“Wait.” He catches my wrist as I turn to leave. “I need you to come back upstairs with me.”

“What? No, I—”

“Jayne.” His voice drops to almost a whisper, urgent and commanding at once. “Will you wait for me upstairs? It’s not safe for you to leave right now.”

The request is so unexpected, so at odds with our usual banter, that I can only stare at him in confusion. “Not safe? What are you talking about?”

He doesn’t elaborate, just holds my gaze with an intensity that makes my protest die in my throat. The playboy billionaire is gone, replaced by someone grimmer, more dangerous...and someone who seems genuinely concerned about my safety.

“Please, darling. Trust me on this.”

I should refuse. Should laugh it off as another of his tactics to get me alone.

But the stark seriousness in his eyes makes the word “Okay” slip from my lips before I can think better of it.

The tension eases from his powerful build, and he even drops a kiss on my forehead. “Thank you.”

The tender gesture leaves me dazed and speechless, and the ride back up to the penthouse is silent, Patrizio’s body angled to shield me, his focus elsewhere. When we arrive, his friends look up with surprise that quickly shifts to understanding when they see my bewildered expression.

“I need ten minutes,” Patrizio tells them, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourselves comfortable in my office.”

They nod and withdraw without question, leaving us alone in the massive living room.

“I’ll be right back,” Patrizio says, his thumb brushing my cheek in a gesture that’s more reassuring than romantic. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

And then he’s gone, following his friends down the hallway, leaving me standing alone in the center of his world.

I sink onto the nearest sofa, my mind racing. What just happened? One minute we were engaged in an illicit elevator encounter, the next he’s talking about danger and safety like we’ve suddenly stepped into...

Wait .

I stare out at the Manhattan skyline through his floor-to-ceiling windows, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat.

Has my life turned into an Eina L. Haze novel all of a sudden, just minus the big bikes?