Page 38 of Wicked (Wicked Billionaires #2)
RAVEN
After making more fresh Italian coffee by the fireside, I write. I work hard on my novel, but I’m having trouble focusing. It’s because of him.
I take a break and message Parker at home in NY.
Lost my V card!
A message comes in fast.
OMG, so out of ten?”
I buzz inside. “A hundred,” I mumble.
100
A Zoom call comes in fast, and I sigh. “Here we go.”
“Most first times suck,” Parker says, sitting up.
“That’s what I heard.”
“So happy for you, babe.”
“Thanks,” I say, glowing.
“You know, you do look happy.”
“Thanks,” I say. “So fucking happy.”
“So, who is he?”
I think about Dante, and I realize I don’t know much about him. He is so private. “Well, he’s basically a hot grumpy private guy. And he lives in NY.”
“So, you’re letting an old man take you?”
“Not that old.”
“Phah,” she says. “Well, what does he do?”
“I think he’s a CEO of a fashion company.”
“Hot, and a CEO!”
“So, how ’bout you?” I ask.
Parker explains she’s given up on men, and I listen close. I really hope she meets someone soon, just like I have. Or have I? Yikes. Either way, it’s nice to see her, and I sigh. “I miss you, babe.”
“I miss you too. Tell me more!” she says.
“No,” I say firmly.
“Spill, you dick!”
I shake my head. “No!” Parker yells in frustration, and I laugh and hit end. I lean back in the chair, and I think about Dante. Then his eyes and how he seems to be able to control me.
I should hate it, but I don’t. I like to do what he commands, even if it’s sinful and maybe depraved. After several minutes, I focus back on writing, and I try not to think of him. It’s hard, but eventually I do.
Dante returns, and he is riding a large black horse. He also has Olive on a lead, and she is saddled and ready to ride. With Tito running alongside, we ride through the property and onto the next estate.
Dante explains the land is owned by family friends, and we ride through acres of tall stunning trees. Finally, we head for home and we ride close.
“I asked three people about Tito,” Dante says.
“And?” I ask looking over.
“And he is a free agent. No one owns him.”
“Hmmm…” I say, having mixed feelings. “It’s good he’s free, but is he safe?”
“He is for now,” Dante says, protectively. “And he is with us.”
As we stable the horses, we pass the open garage, and I see the sports car collection. It gets me thinking, and I turn to Dante. “I have an idea. Can we talk?”
Dante side-eyes me. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”
We walk around the castle and trees, then I stop out front of the large estate. It’s the front of the castle with the view down to the Tuscan village in the distance.
The road comes up and beautiful trees are on our left, the right dropping away to the cliff and beach.
“Okay, so where are the outer areas of the property?”
Dante points into the distance. “See that ridge and how it follows those trees? After it goes down to that lane and all the way to that road in the village, continue on, and it’s everything from the cliff and around the back of the castle.”
I nod and process fast. “It’s good flat land with a view. It’s perfect.” Dante raises a brow. “Okay, so this is how you do it!” I say.
Dante grins, but he looks like a non-believer . “And that is?”
“To first save the castle, you make a stylish theme park celebrating all things Italian. Turn a third of the unused land into bus and car parking. Keep that accessible. Ticket booths at that main gate,” I say, pointing.
“Then the flatter areas under the trees are for more male tourism related activities. A gladiator school and sword fighting. You know, medieval-type things, think Gladiator, 300 and Spartacus.”
Dante watches me, and Tito stares up.
“You then have someone focus on looking after the sports cars and you engage cool locals to drive people around this side of Tuscany. World-class cars, roads, and beaches. You even offer wine and lunch picnics.” Dante watches me, and he rubs his chin.
“Also, have a lunchtime banquet, daily for fifty, maybe a hundred, if things take off. No one in the world cooks like Italians, and you cannot disagree with me there.”
I pause to make sure Dante is getting it.
“The inside of the castle can be used for celebrating Italian cuisine, with cooking classes and fashion classes. Even the history of Italian fashion. Think the Devil Wears Prada and… The Devil Eats Pasta.”
Dante shakes his head, and I make sure I don’t lose my flow.
“You have enough space in the castle, and the kitchen areas are huge. You already have plenty of props too, and your sister’s horse interests can be folded in. And your uncle’s wine making. Heck, he could even do classes on wine-tasting and wine-making.”
Our eyes meet, and I sense Dante coming around.
It’s time to drive the sword deeper and finish the job.
“You, old man, have the perfect location for a celebrate-all-things-Italian theme park. And if you choose to do so, you can bring in money and save the family jewel! You can also use those darned sports cars.”
Dante rubs his jaw, deeper in thought. “There’s twelve.”
“Whatever,” I say.
Dante slowly nods, and his eyes gleam, “It’s good, you get an A.”
“The heck I do, I get another F! And maybe one day if you’re really gentle, I let you give me an… A.”
Dante places an arm over me, and he drags me in. He looks around deep in thought, and I think I have him. “You may be right.”
“The key is,” I say, “you already have the location and many of the props.”
“But the team?” Dante says, “Who on earth will help, especially the cuisine? And inspire them about fashion?”
“There will be a way,” I say. “And it will bring money into the area and stimulate the economy.”
“I do get that bit,” Dante says, not needing to remind me he’s involved in some pretty big business things.
“I think it’s your destiny, and deep down, you know it is! Celebrate Italy and make it work!” I say, bumping against him. I stand on tiptoes and kiss him on the lips.
“I’ll think about it.”
“You better!” I say sternly.
As we head back, I catch Dante taking another look over his shoulder. He likely imagines billowing Italian flags, gladiator training, old Ferraris driving through vineyards, wine classes, fashion classes, and the smell of fresh pasta wafting through the castle.
I’m still exhausted from last night’s sex class; I need an afternoon rest. My teacher joins me in bed, and we lay against each other, talking.
Tito lays near the fire’s embers, and it’s gentle after the storm and with my life changing so fast.
As Dante plays with my hair, we talk about life, and we lay against each other. I like it when he sits behind me, and he plays with my hair. Also, when he pulls it hard, and I’m yanked back onto his cock.
As I roll over, we kiss slow and long. I feel good. Really good, and I also feel a rare calm. Maybe even content. As I think about dinner and the evening ahead, I propose a picnic.
“We can’t. We’ve got plans,” Dante says.
“What?” I huff, sitting up.
“We have another wedding.”
“What?” I yelp, confused.
“A friend of the family this time. Long story.”
“Well, can I borrow another gown?”
Dante shakes his head. “Sorry, this time is more… formal.” Dante rolls over and gets his cell. “That reminds me.”
As he waits for the call to connect, he whispers low, “What size are you?”
I tell him my size in a whisper before he mumbles, “Sister.” The call connects and he says, “Hey.” I watch Dante talk to his sister, and it’s nice to see him family oriented. I haven’t met her yet, but Dante discussed Bianca one night.
“Listen, what size are you?”
I wonder if I’ll be walking into some size and style trap, and I start to get anxious. I think of my Givenchy dress, but then I realize it’s likely unsuitable for a wedding.
It is too dark, too late at night, and too over the top.
“Can you bring it, and anything else matching? Great. To the villa?” There is a long pause, and he says, “Perfect, and thanks. Any shoes?”
Dante shoots me a look, and I hold up fingers to match my size. Dante tells his sister, and I raise a brow. “Lucky and perfect!”
He ends the call, and I stare at him. What the heck am I about to walk into now?