Page 10 of Wicked (Wicked Billionaires #2)

RAVEN

I awake in a strange bed, and I quickly look around.

“What the…” My forehead hurts, and I touch it. “Ouch!” I don’t have a headache, but something is sore on one side.

Hearing a moan in the room, I glance around left and right. I finally find a guy sleeping on a weird sofa behind me.

He is in black, satin boxer briefs and nothing else, besides tattoos, muscle, and a white blanket. He is tall, gorgeous, dark haired, and something about last night rattles in my memory.

I reach down and gasp. I still have a thong on, but yikes, I’m a little wet.

I see my bra nearby, and I pull it over and put it on.

The dark stranger stirs in his sleep, and I sneak out of bed, staying low.

I ache a little, and my knee is weak. The dark stranger with full lips and a perfect jawline needs examining.

I get closer, and I watch him closely. He mumbles and rolls around, dozing.

His longish jet-black hair gives him a rugged style, and he has stubble and an edible six-pack. Did he take me last night? Is he from Tinder? No way.

Surely!

I realize I can just ask him, so I pull a towel over my legs and sit on the coffee table, watching him.

As he stirs and rolls over, it’s clear. He has a thick and long cock. Also, a morning erection. His body is also edible, and I lean closer, keen to see if the six-pack is real. I’m inches away from contact when he growls, “Away.”

I leap back and keep my distance. How in hell could he have seen me with his eyes closed?

“I was checking you don’t have a weapon!”

I watch him roll over half-asleep, like a sexy black wolf in a cave. He has not answered. I need to ask him if he was inside me.

“Did we have a date?”

The stranger with eyes closed growls, “No, and you’re not my type.”

“So, what is your type?” I snap too fast.

“Pre… fucked, sophisticated, and someone who sleeps in.”

“And I’m not those?”

“No,” he says, rolling over. I watch his erection and bite my lip. “You’re likely crazy and I suspect trouble too.”

“The hell I am,” I say, way too fast. “I’d be hot in bed.” I cover my mouth, and the rugged hunk turns, opening one eye.

He smirks before pulling a t shirt over his face to stop the forming light in the day. It’s a lot to take in, and my mind starts to race.

Car… Yes… Crash… Shit. A bath… Sexy man washing… Rogue.

“Woah,” I say. “What the hell are you doing here?” The strange hunk inhales, and it looks like he’s trying to boot up pre-coffee. I lift my chin, and I want answers.

“Look, stranger! Did you take me last night or not?”

I refuse to miss out on losing my virginity, and I’ll be pissed if I got taken and do not remember it. There is no reply, and without warning, the stranger, with wood, rolls up and runs his hands through his hair.

“Listen up, crazy, and listen good. I do not claim women in distress. It’s considered bad form.”

“Just as well!” I huff, confused.

The stranger, who I now remember is called Dante, looks at me. His eyes are hot, and I try not to stare down to his thick hungry junk under the black satin. He pulls the white blanket over himself, and I pull my own damp towel over my thong.

I raise my chin high, and Dante shakes his head, smirks, and walks out of the room. Perfect butt and all.

After several minutes of trying to take it all in, I huff and patter out of the suite.

I find the bathroom in the Italian villa, and it’s a complete bomb site. My denim shorts are even hanging from a hook, and my top is hanging from a light.

I notice the bathroom has no shower, and it is old-fashioned, like the rest of the village I remember seeing yesterday. Huffing, I run the bath and stare at the sea.

After a short bath, I smell coffee and realize just how much I need one. I change into the only other clean clothes I have in the hotel suite and my bag—a denim mini and a retro band tee.

I notice the rogue has been through his expensive black leather bag, and he’s left a mess. I quickly do my hair, put on lipstick, and I walk downstairs, unsure what to expect.

As I lean into an old-fashioned room with statues, swords, shields, and Renaissance paintings, I notice it looks along the coast.

A fire is in the corner, and the room is warm.

A woman in her sixties turns as the door I hold creaks. She wipes her hands on her apron and smiles. “Ciao bella. You must-a be-a the stranger?”

I blush, embarrassed, when I notice Grumpy sat with his coffee eyeing me. “Yes, and sorry for just arriving.”

“At least you didn’t come,” the devilish brute says huskily.

What the heck?

Thankfully, the Italian woman doesn’t get it, and she gestures me over fast.

“Come, come, bella, and seat.” She pulls a chair out at the large table, and I smile and sit.

“Raven,” I say, smiling.

“Maria,” she says, beaming radiant energy.

I notice the formal places set, and I see I am forced to sit opposite Grumpy. Dante grins with piercing green eyes over his coffee, then he leans back, observing me.

Maria doesn’t notice as she gets me coffee, but the grumpy hot Italian and I share bad blood or loaded energy.

“There you are,” Maria says as she hands me coffee in a fancy cup and saucer.

“Thanks,” I sigh, my coffee fix in place.

“Now, take-a your time and decide if you would like to stay longer. We have an old Italian hotel, as you can see. The village is small, but it is cute. The postal service is old and broken. Here at villa, we have sit down meals two or three times each-a day. No room service. Laundry at nine in morning, and our old building comes with limited hot water. Bath is good though, no? And the view!”

“Bellissimo, and grazie,” I say, grinning at her before I cold eye the rogue.

Dante stares back, as if angry at himself or the world. Either that or he’s just terminally grumpy.

“Thanks, the place is stunning,” I say, meaning it. Maria smiles and turns to… him.

“It’s good to have you back, Dante. Especially to fix-a up the castle.”

The rogue smiles and sips.

“Grazie. It’s odd being back, but it’s great you, and a few other things, never change.”

As Maria puts her hands on her hips, she inhales. “I still miss-a your grandfather. I still miss Nonno, you know.”

“Si. Si, Maria. Me too,” the rogue says. A rare humane side visible for a flash.

Maria grins at us both, and she raises her brows. “Well, I must clean up, then I’m-a do the shopping,” she says in her best English. “See you both soon, and see you this evening for dinner, Dante.”

“Grazie,” Dante says as he stands.

“Si,” I say, “And thank you.” As Maria leaves, I sit and ignore the grumpy stranger. We sit silently for a while, and we avoid eye contact.

I’m not entirely sure about last night and what actually happened. I then remember my rental car. I’m about to focus on that when the rogue distracts me.

“So, what will the young stranger do today?”

I still have a week of novel writing to do, if I start, and I know my boss wants me to use my vacation time. As long as me being here does not cost the company, she will likely jump on the idea to wipe out my vacation days.

I don’t want to write in busy, distracting Rome, and if I remember correctly, the rental car is now damaged.

I fake smile. “The young lady shall read and write. The duties of the quill.”

The brute eyes me.

“No doubt a more savory action than the duties of the quim!”

As the smug grump eats, I decide to look up quim later. As I watch him out of the corner of my eye, I determine he is gorgeous. It is just a shame he’s so darned arrogant and rude.

What is also odd is the fact he’s dressed like he’s walked straight out of a time machine. That is, unless his job requires traditional old-fashioned clothes, like he works in a theme park or something.

“So, I’m guessing you’re a caretaker?” I say, leaning back and eyeing him over coffee.

“You could say that” he says with a smug grin.

I try to clear the air. “Well, thank you for yesterday. And not taking… liberties.”

Not that I would have minded, I think, now chewing on my bottom lip.

The grump licks jam from his lip, and his reply is cold. “Call me old-fashioned, but I do not claim maidens in distress.”

Who on earth uses the word maiden? I give him an evil glare, and I decide I hate every arrogant cell of him. I decide to mess with him in some of my own old English, my literature degree useful for once. Smarmy peasant.

“You, sir, are found wanting.”

The rogue gives me a mischievous look, and he licks jam off his sinful lip. “And you, dear woman, are likely in need of a good spanking.”

My mouth drops open, and I am lost for words. I blush, desperate to find something clever to say. “And your bloodline is, well … common, I say.”

Dante laughs loud, and he laughs long. “I wish.”

What the hell does that mean? Just when I’m planning a stunning retort, he stands and bows.

“Good day, milady!” And with that, he leaves.

I cannot understand how he can push all my buttons so fast, and I don’t like it. The weird thing is, I’m turned on, and my clit throbs.

I type quim into my cell, and my eyes pop. It means women’s genitals. Had he really meant it best my day is spent writing instead of me playing with my clit? Arrogant, smug bastard.

I’m about to head to my suite, well, his suite, when I hear a door open and close out the window. I lean out the window, and I see the rogue at his Range Rover below.

“The gent is a rascal! A rascal, I say.”

The rogue turns, eye fucks me for three long seconds and then races off. Slamming the window, I sit. My heart pounds, and I work hard to find calm. If I stay, he will throw me off my writing. There is no way that can happen! No way in hell!