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to make this work—whatever you want.”
    “Such as?” He speculated if she’d sleep with him. Massimo wanted her. Sitting on his chair’s edge, he waited for her response, and the lingering expectation grew excruciating. What could she give him? Tell me, bella.
    “I’ll pay fifteen percent more than the original sticker price.”
    Having you in my arms may be worth more than fifteen percent, bella . “If Girasoli ceases plans and reverts to supplying Easton the fabrics, how will we be sure you will pay on time?”
    “I’ll sign whatever guarantee you want me to.”
    “The last contract graced your signature and did not work for you.” He didn’t favor uncertainty, not in this economy.
    “Please—I can’t go home without this shipment.” Her eyes filled with the realization he didn’t intend to give in. Maybe her legal bite was a bluff. “I’ll be forced to close my doors and lay off my employees.” Lex’s pleading made her proposal tempting, but he couldn’t.
    “No. Taking another risk on Easton is bad business practice for Girasoli. This is nothing personal.” His company remained number one in Italy for textiles. At year’s end it would be the top manufacturer in Europe, and the year following, the world. He could not do business with some fly by the seat of your pants clothing company.
    “You’ll never be able to get your label off the ground,” she snapped. “Not without knocking me off.” She raised her chin in confidence.
    “Are your fashion wits telling you Girasoli is copying your designs?” Massimo had heard the term “know it all,” but he’d never met a “Lex.” In her stretchy slacks, she’d given new meaning to the term “sassy pants.”
    “Damn straight!”
    “ Easton’s designs are, how do you say—frumpy.”
    Her jaw dropped. “ Frumpy? ”
    “We intend to sex them up a bit.”
    As she leaned toward him, her eyes changed from green to black. “My clothing isn’t frumpy . The Easton client is a real woman who wants to feel good in the clothes she wears. She isn’t interested in ‘sexing it up a bit.’ My buyers are—” She cut herself short too frustrated to continue. She bit down hard on her lower lip.
    Itchiness scratched his throat as he witnessed Lex struggle with her emotions. “I am sorry, Lex. I am. But this is business.” Massimo wondered how long she could keep up her tough girl persona.
    “Who’s designing the garments for you?”
    “Jemma Fereti. You met her today at the pool.”
    “There were three women at the pool. Forgive me, but I couldn’t tell them apart.” Raising her pointer finger midair, she asked, “The tallest one?”
    “ Sì , Jemma started with Girasoli after università . We grew up together.” He held his Bellini up to her all knowing finger to toast the notion and then took another sip.
    “Uh huh, as expected, your designer is drop dead gorgeous.” Her eyes rolled.
    Clara came with the entrees, grouper, still on the bone. She squeezed lemon over the scales and returned to the kitchen.
    Lex moved her fish around on the plate, looking as if she’d lost her appetite.
    Massimo reached across the table to stroke her hand and console her.
    She didn’t pull away or stab him with her fork as he expected, resembling the moment at the pool earlier when he’d held her hand and she looked deep into his eyes. He sensed Lex overcame great obstacles in her lifetime to have made Easton a success in the high stakes fashion world.
    “The textiles are vital to you?”
    “My entire business relies on them.” She rested her body in the chair. She’d given up.
    He stroked her fingers, admiring their softness, hoping she’d relax.
    Her once strong grip felt frail and cold against his. Lex’s mind must’ve been preoccupied with many thoughts. Massimo couldn’t imagine. It was a brave test to witness her digest defeat, one he hadn’t expected. It made him uncomfortable.
    Lex’s body spoke to him as her face darkened and hope