Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
She lunged for her phone, but I held it out of her reach.
“It’s a personal matter.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I only have a limited amount of euros on me. If I use my bank card, my mother will know I’m in Italy.”
I tucked her phone into the inner pocket of my suit. “You’re not staying at a hotel.”
She lunged for it again. “Give it back.”
I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her across my lap.
She squirmed as she pushed back against my chest. “I need to find a place to stay until I can rent a room for the month.”
“You’ll be staying under my roof.”
Her head tilted to the side as her lips thinned. “So do you always invite new employees to stay in your home?”
“Only the stubborn American ones.”
Her hips shifted while she again tried to get off my lap, causing my cock to stir further.
Her eyes widened. “That is not a strictly professional response.”
I winked.
She broke free and moved to the other side of the car. “I’m not staying with you. I’m getting a hotel room.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“You said if I stayed, this would be a business relationship only.”
“You will have your own room.”
“Inside your home.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“This is not up for discussion, Sabrina.”
“Finally, something we agree on.” She leaned forward and knocked on the privacy screen. “Driver? Driver! I need to go to the DoubleTree by Piazza dell’Esquilino.”
I wrapped my hand around the silky strands of her ponytail and pulled, yanking her back against her seat.
I then leaned over and wrenched on the seat belt shoulder strap.
As she sputtered and fumed, I buckled her in. “Listen, little one. There isn’t a fucking chance in hell I’m dropping you off at a hotel. So sit back and behave.”
She grasped the seat belt buckle, intent on unlatching it. “You can’t force me to stay with you.”
Keeping my gaze on her, I tapped my knuckle against the privacy screen. It immediately lowered.
Ignoring Sabrina’s snort of indignation, I said, “Take us to the DoubleTree by the Piazza dell’Esquilino.”
“Yes, boss.”
Several minutes later, the motorcade stopped in front of the hotel.
Sabrina yanked on the locked door handle. “Open the door."
I exited the Range Rover and crossed around the back to open her door.
Holding out my hand, palm up, I offered to help her alight.
She attempted to ignore it and step out on her own.
I stepped forward, blocking her path.
“Must every little thing be your way?”
Leaning my forearm on the top of the car, I bent down slightly. “What do you think?”
She placed her small hand in mine.
The moment she stepped out of the car, she breezed past me into the hotel lobby.
When I caught up to her, I leaned in close and whispered, “That exit would have been far more impressive if you’d been in heels.”
There was nothing like the sexy clack of a woman’s heels and the sway of her hips as she stormed away.
Her mouth quirked to the side as she folded her arms.
Finally, she whispered back, “I know.”
The hotel clerk greeted her in English. Most Italians could clock an American even before they spoke.
“May I help you, signorina?”
“Yes, please, I’d like to book a room.”
I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood behind her.
The moment the clerk’s gaze met mine, I subtly shook my head.
Sabrina looked sharply behind her.
I smiled.
The clerk placed his palms together. “I’m so sorry. We are fully booked.”
Her shoulders squared. “Do you have a sister hotel nearby? Or could you perhaps recommend another one?”
The clerk shook his head before grabbing the phone and pretending to answer it.
Sabrina got the same response at two more hotels.
As I knew she would.
There wasn’t a citizen in Rome who didn’t recognize a Diamanti—or our wealth and power.
She leaned her head against the car window and closed her eyes.
With a sniff, she asked, “I’m not going to find a hotel in Rome willing to give me a reservation, am I?”
In this, at least, I could be honest. “No, dolcezza, you won’t.”
CHAPTER 28
SABRINA
I’d learned the hard way that there was no point in arguing further.
Once again, Sebastian Diamanti had gotten his way.
I leaned my chin on my hand and stared out the car window, taking in my first glimpses of Rome.
Rome seemed alive—every street and every corner strained under the weight of centuries.
The cobblestones shimmered faintly under the glow of streetlamps, as if the city itself still carried the whispers of a thousand confessions and ancient betrayals.
The car slid past the Trevi Fountain, its marble figures frozen mid-motion, their carved expressions illuminated by golden light. The fountain less like a place of innocent wishes and more like a shrine to despair.
As Sebastian’s motorcade snaked through the narrow streets, the city closed in, its ancient walls pressing against me, reminding me that this was Rome, a city that had conquered nations and consumed empires.