Page 23 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

He waved a hand dismissively. “Consider it a gift. A souvenir of your trip to Positano.”

She shook her head vigorously, sending a wave of yellow-blond strands flying around her face and rousing Houdini, who had started to nod off. She laid a calming hand on his abdomen, and he settled down. “I can’t accept.”

“You can, and you will.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

“Stubborn, aren’t you?”

They stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment, locked in an ideological standoff, until he broke the silence.

“It seems we’ve reached a stalemate.”

“Tell you what.” She gazed up at him, tilting her head to study him thoughtfully. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“You agree to help with Houdini, and I’ll drop the money thing.”

“I have to pay for the pig and take care of him?”

Now it was her turn to shrug. “You’re the one who likes to play Sir Galahad.”

He wanted to argue with her but couldn’t. A hero complex, his grandmother called it. Why else would he still blame himself for Nicole’s death? If he had paid more attention, if he had been more prepared, he could have saved her. He was in the restaurant business. How many times had he told Luca food allergies were something they needed to take seriously?

He shoved his guilt down deep and locked it away, keeping his face an impassive mask. “Fine, I’ll help. But I can’t keep him. You have to either find a way to take him back to America with you or find another home for him here.”

She nodded, a smile spreading across her beautiful face, making her even more attractive, as impossible as that seemed. Gold flecks sparked in her eyes, and the freckles across the bridge of her nose crinkled endearingly.

“Deal.”

Chapter Six

Dante turned to go, assuming their conversation was over.

“Not so fast.” Zoe crooked a finger, beckoning him back. “If you’re going to be a parent, you should get acquainted with your son.”

“Parent?” He almost choked on the word, his heart seeming to have lodged in his windpipe. He and Nicole had wanted children. Of the two-footed, not four-footed, variety. Another dream cut short by her sudden death.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Isn’t that pushing it a bit far?”

“Foster parent, then.” She patted the floor next to her. “Come on. I won’t bite. Although Houdini might if you’re not careful.”

He eyed the spot she indicated like it was quicksand, ready to swallow him up. “Do we have to do this now?”

“No time like the present.”

Never sounded like a good time to him. But he doubted Zoe would agree. He supposed the sooner he got it over with, the better. Reluctantly, he slumped down next to her, making sure to leave a good six inches between them.

“Put your arms out.”

He hesitated. “You want me to hold him?”

“What’s the big deal? You did it last week. And what about all those other times he ran away?”

“That was different. I was delivering him back to his owner. He was a package, not a pet.”

She held the still-sleeping pig out to him. “It’s easy. Just pretend he’s a baby. And don’t forget to support his head.”