A Weekend of Misbehaving

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Book: Read A Weekend of Misbehaving for Free Online
Authors: Carmen Falcone
worth it.
    A tall, skinny man clad in a plaid ensemble straight from an Agatha Christie movie greeted them in Italian and showed them into the three-level mansion. As she walked through the antique foyer, Alice blinked at the combination of old and current; some art pieces on the wall reminded her of what Lorenzo had on his. Then modern pieces like a glass coffee table and minimalist lamps blended with velvety couches and an exquisite crown molding.
    The butler, she guessed, continued speaking in Italian with Lorenzo. Lorenzo. He exchanged a few sentences in his native language, and if there was a way that man could be even sexier, well, that was it. His voice was rich, complex, musical.
    A thrill went through her and prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. She clamped her lips shut to keep from saying something inappropriate. Well, to him anything was out of line. Except the way he’d touched her in the airplane, the anticipation that brewed inside her when he had come closer…
    “Oh, there you are. Bienvenuto. Did you have a good trip?” Viola materialized in front of them, stepping down a seemingly endless, curvy staircase.
    “Yes, thank you.” Lorenzo gave her a kiss on each cheek, and Alice tightened her stomach. She knew just how his kiss could set off a chain of reactions in a woman’s body.
    “Well, Rogerio will show you to your room, and you can freshen up. Later today we’ll have dinner on the deck. I’ve invited a few friends.”
    Rogerio gestured for them to go up the stairs, and she did, her hand hovering over the polished dark wood railing. Lorenzo followed suit, though because of his long legs, every two or three steps of hers he could match with a single one. She was sure he was behind her just out of chivalry. Wait, chivalry?
    She looked over her shoulder and found his eyes skimming over her behind. A hot cup of espresso spilled into her blood, adrenaline flowing through her veins. Unless she had something stuck on her ass, or he was a fashion expert studying her dark denim, Lorenzo found her larger-than-a-Victoria-Secrets-model butt appealing. Why else would he stare at her behind? A slow smile formed on his lips, and she sucked in her breath. Without waiting for his eyes to meet hers, she turned to face the door Rogerio led them to.
    With a knowing smile, the graceful man sauntered into the suite and explained a few things to Lorenzo. Alice reached into her jeans for money, but before she could find anything, remembered this wasn’t a hotel, although it certainly could pass for one. She walked through the living area, gazing at the French doors leading to the bedroom. Excited, she pulled the white doors open, and a universe of pale pink and purple greeted her.
    An old-fashioned white armoire and heavy dresser completed the feminine atmosphere. Silver lamps, small and tall, gave soothing light. And a four-poster, king-size bed covered with a flowery bedspread was elevated in the center of the room.
    A clear vase with fresh flowers adorned each nightstand. The room was so delicate, she almost reached to remove her shoes to walk on the soft carpet. Looking ahead, there were rays of sunshine skipping through the doors leading outside. She strolled to the small but cozy balcony. Tones of deep blue blended in the sea, and to her right she saw many gorgeous villas piling up on a hill.
    “Like the view?” Lorenzo asked, his voice deep behind her.
    “This”—she pointed at the ocean—“could be one of those pictures hanging on the doctor’s office wall. All I need is an overused motivational quote.”
    He smiled, more to himself than to her. Her cheeks warmed as her body reacted to his nearness. Crap. She’d worked for him for a year and had done a hell of a job hiding this silly crush from him. Granted, they barely spoke more than necessary. Still.
    “They just brought the suitcases.”
    “Suitcases,” she repeated in a low voice and followed him inside. “Why did they bring yours to my

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