Page 33 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

Dante’s smirk grew wider and, if possible, even more smug. “I’m her grandson. She thinks everything I do is brilliant.”

“Andiamo.” Carmella’s voice echoed from the kitchen into the cavernous foyer. “Time is wasting. And my cappuccino isn’t going to brew itself.”

Zoe smirked right back at him. “Not everything, apparently.”

Houdini grunted, almost as if he understood what they were saying and was joining in on the conversation. Zoe took him from Dante, gave him a quick snuggle, and set him down on the floor. The pig immediately set off after Carmella, his hooves clip-clopping on the tile.

Zoe started to follow him, but Dante’s hand closed around her arm, stopping her.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly serious. “Before we go in there and face my grandmother’s well-meaning but no doubt intensely personal interrogation, I’d like to clear the air between us.”

“What do you mean?” Was he talking about their kiss? Or later that evening? Had he heard her out on the balcony after all?

He released her arm like it had suddenly become radioactive. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m sorry. It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

She cringed at the one-two punch of his rejection, first physical, then verbal. Not that she hadn’t been expecting it from the way he’d been avoiding her. Still, it stung. “Just what every girl wants to hear. Aren’t you the charmer?”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t get the wrong idea. I’m not in the habit of leading women on. I’m attracted to you, obviously. But this”—he waved a hand between them—“whatever it is, it can’t go any further.”

Wow. She’d never had a guy put it quite so bluntly before. It was strangely both ruthless and refreshing.

“Don’t worry, Casanova. I’m not picking out china patterns just yet.”

A crash from the kitchen cut off whatever Dante was going to say next. His head swiveled toward the source of the sound, and he swore under his breath. Before either of them could move, Carmella marched into the foyer with Houdini in one arm, cradled against her designer dress.

“We’re fine,” she insisted, waving her free hand dismissively, her rings catching the morning sunlight streaming through the glass door. “Nothing but a broken mug.”

Dante frowned. “I thought you wanted me to make the cappuccino.”

“I got tired of waiting.”

“Let me take Houdini.” Zoe held out her arms. “I’ll bring him upstairs, get changed, and be back down in few minutes.”

She took the pig from Carmella and turned to Dante with a confused and somewhat embarrassed frown. “I still don’t understand how he got downstairs in the first place. Please tell me he hasn’t figured out how to turn a doorknob.”

Dante shrugged. “I let him out. He was scratching at the door.”

“Aha,” Zoe said, a triumphant smile replacing her frown. “I knew Houdini would grow on you.”

“He has not grown on me,” Dante grumbled. “The doors in this villa are handcrafted from Brazilian hardwood. I didn’t want him to destroy it.”

“Houdini.” Carmella raised an already arched brow. “Interesting name.”

“He kept escaping from his owner and finding his way over here, so Dante bought him for me,” Zoe explained.

“My grandson bought you a pig?” Carmella directed a pointed gaze at Dante. “You’ve never heard of chocolate? Flowers? Jewelry?”

Dante frowned. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Avanti.” Carmella put a hand on her grandson’s forearm. “Come with me to the kitchen. You can tell me what it was like and make me that cappuccino.”

Zoe would love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. But she had Houdini to deal with, and she really, really wanted to be wearing something that didn’t flash her boobs or butt every time she bent over.

When she made it back downstairs a few minutes later—in a cute sundress that completely covered all her naughty bits in every conceivable position—Dante and his grandmother had moved from the kitchen to the outdoor terrace and were sitting across from each other at one of the wrought-iron tables with foaming cups of cappuccino. A third mug sat in front of an empty chair between them. Zoe pulled it out, sat down, and reached for the frothy confection.

“This is for me, I assume.”

Dante nodded. “I wasn’t sure, but I thought you might like one. You certainly seemed to enjoy it last time.”