Tempted and Taken, page 2
As she’d said last night, she wanted more.
And he had more.
“It was an unfortunate misunderstanding,” he said, though he meant it differently than she did. Time for damage control. “I hope the two of us can remain friends.”
He had to hand it to Patricia. Her poker face was rock solid, her smile firmly in place.
“Of course.” She lifted her glass to take a sip of wine. “But I don’t see any reason why we shouldn’t continue our previous arrangement.”
Matt wasn’t about to consider that offer, though he was curious about Patricia’s motivation. She was, by society’s standards, a very beautiful woman and heiress to a fortune. Men would line up around the block to marry her, as evidenced by the fact she’d already been engaged four times to men she claimed to feel a romantic attachment to. Matt suspected the reasons Patricia hadn’t made it down the aisle yet had everything to do with the fact those previous fiancés hadn’t had that “more” factor and the only person she would ever truly love was herself.
He shook his head. “No, and I’m sorry if by coming here tonight I gave you the impression I was interested in pursuing that. I’m here because I wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings between us. We’re bound to run into each other from time to time and, as I said, I hope we can do so as friends.”
Friends was a stretch, as that was something they’d never been and never would be. Too many nights out with Patricia had opened his eyes to who she really was. Her stuck-up nature was only surpassed by her narcissism, and neither was attractive.
The waiter returned with their first course. Clearly, Patricia had taken the liberty of ordering more than just the wine. He mentally cursed, annoyed by the prospect of having to sit through a five-course meal with her.
He took a drink of water, relieved to realize the ibuprofen was kicking in, the throbbing in his head reduced to a dull ache.
He braced himself, expecting her to pick up the argument where they’d left it last night—Patricia wasn’t the type to go down without a fight—so he was pleasantly surprised, and somewhat suspicious, when she dropped the subject.
“I understand,” she said genially. “And to show there are no hard feelings…” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small square box. Holding it on the palm of her hand, she presented it to him in what felt like a “voila” manner, which was strange. “Your Christmas present. I intended to give it to you last night.”
Last night, it sounded as if her “gift” was sex with her, so he couldn’t help but wonder if this was purchased today. Matt reached for the box, grateful he’d had the foresight to grab the bracelet at the last minute. He’d intended to use it to “buy” her forgiveness if she persisted in making things difficult.
He’d only just touched the box when Patricia flipped open the lid, her smile odd. In some ways, it looked as if she was the one receiving the gift rather than him.
He thanked her for the diamond-studded cuff links, then he reached into his suit pocket, retrieving her gift. “For you.”
She oohed and ahhed over the bracelet, asking him to put it on her. It had looked much better on Liza.
After that, the conversation turned to superficial things, as Patricia talked about her plans for the holidays. Apparently, the Eddingtons celebrated Christmas and the New Year in Aspen, skiing ’til they dropped, according to her. He was content to let her do the lion’s share of the talking, nodding and responding appropriately as she gossiped about people in their social circles, bemoaned the lack of good restaurants in the city, and discussed her plans to start her own fashion show on YouTube.
It wasn’t the most stimulating dinner he’d ever had, but considering he had expected Patricia to be difficult about him breaking things off, he couldn’t complain. His coming here had achieved what he had hoped, put him back on steady ground with the Eddingtons. Last night’s mistake-apalooza hadn’t been completely detrimental.
Even if his emotional state was on shaky foundation, professionally, he was fine.
Once the bill was paid, they walked out together, her driver waiting at the curb.
She turned to him as he opened the back door to the limo. “I will miss our nights together.” She lifted her face to his. He bent slightly, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, but Patricia was better prepared for him this time, her hand capturing the knot of his tie. Using a strong grip, she managed to lengthen the kiss a few seconds longer than he wanted. He was about to break the connection when she let him go.
“Goodbye, Patricia.”
“Goodbye, Matt.”
He walked back to his car, accepting the keys from the valet. As he slid behind the wheel, he frowned.
The dinner had gone better than he dared to hope for, yet some niggling, suspicious voice in the back of his brain told him it had been too easy.
And now there was only one thing he knew for certain. He hadn’t heard the last of Patricia Eddington.
Chapter Two
Liza and her cousin Luca dropped down on the couch dramatically and at the exact same time.
“Why?” Luca moaned. “Why do I always eat too much?”
Liza wanted to answer, but she was too full to speak. The food coma was setting in hard. She leaned back and debated unbuttoning the top button of her jeans. She’d watched her dad, Nonno, and two uncles do it while still at the dinner table.
“I should have worn sweatpants,” she finally managed to force out.
It looked like Luca would have laughed if he weren’t in such pain. Instead, he grimaced and nodded. “Next year, let’s suggest a pajamas-only dress code.”
That wasn’t a bad idea, Liza thought, making a mental note to do just that. Her extended family was close enough and crazy enough that they’d probably make a contest out of the best pj’s. Plus, it was Christmas Eve, and they did tend to party until the wee hours, so the relaxed dress code would just make things easier when they all returned home three sheets to the wind.
Or at least, they used to party until dawn. Now the next generation of kids had come along, and her brother Bruno and his wife, Viv, had to leave early so their children were asleep before Santa came. The same held true for her brother Elio, and cousins David, Holly, and Tony, who also had milk and cookies to leave out for Santa Claus and kids to put to bed.
While she adored her nieces and nephews, sometimes she missed the times when they’d been a family of adults and the wine had flowed until daybreak as they sang, laughed, told stories, and ate themselves into oblivion.
She’d been blessed with a huge, close-knit family, most of whom still lived in Philadelphia, so the holidays were always a big-ass affair. Liza looked around the room and counted no less than twenty-five people crammed into Nonna and Nonno’s living room with her, all of whom appeared to be talking at the same time—at full volume, with those truly Italian hands gesturing wildly.
Of course, there weren’t just twenty-five people in the house. That was just the people in the living room. There were at least that many more in various other rooms, including both kitchens and the dining room.
Keeley stepped over to her and Luca, perching on the arm of the couch and holding up her phone. “Penny just texted. She and Gage finished dinner and they’re on their way now.”
“Cool,” Liza said, sharing a glance with Luca, who smirked. Liza had been shocked when Nonna had invited Penny and her husband, Gage, to join them for Christmas Eve dessert.
Penny, at Liza’s request, had stopped by a couple of weeks earlier to help her grandparents set up their new computer. Nonna had finally downloaded enough sketchy spam to cook the old one entirely. Penny, the family’s go-to IT guru, had suggested what computer they should buy, then offered to set it up and teach her grandparents how to use it. She’d also done a tutorial on what emails and links not to open, though Liza was certain Nonna hadn’t understood half of what Penny had said.
When Nonna had issued the dessert invitation, Liza and Penny laughed it off, certain her grandmother hadn’t thought it through, forgetting that Penny Beaumont was now Penny Russo.
While the younger generation of Morettis had—for the most part—gotten over the long-standing feud between their family and Gage’s, the older generation—Liza’s nonno, dad, and uncles—most certainly had not.
Penny had politely demurred, not mentioning why, but Nonna hadn’t taken no for an answer, insisting it was time they put the past behind them, and that Penny brought her husband to meet the family.
Nonno, who had been standing there, hadn’t rejected the idea, but he hadn’t exactly embraced it either, remaining uncharacteristically quiet, which made Liza suspect her grandparents had discussed the invitation prior to Penny’s arrival.
Penny had given a very noncommittal “we’ll see” because neither she nor Liza expected Gage to voluntarily step into the lion’s den. They should have known better because Gage, the charming idiot, had been thrilled by the invitation, asking Penny to call Nonna immediately to accept.
When Liza had told her brothers and cousins about the possibility of a Russo coming to Christmas Eve dinner, they’d started a betting pool on how long it would take before one of the older men broke their promise to Nonna to be on their best behavior, then they debated who it would be.
Of course, none of the older men had taken that vow to mind their manners until Nonna had started threatening to cut certain favorite dishes from the Christmas dinner menu. Then, suddenly, they were all singing a different tune, begrudgingly promising to be civil.
Luca leaned toward Liza. “I’ve got Uncle Cesare losing his shit after twenty minutes.”
Liza laughed, sure Luca was going to lose that bet. Cesare, Liza’s dad, had gotten an earful from her mom before they’d arrived tonight, Mom swearing up and down that she would make his life a living hell if he embarrassed her by being rude to “the Russo boy.”
Gage would probably love that he was being referred to as a boy, even though he was in his mid-thirties.
“That’s hilarious,” Liza said. “Because I picked your dad. Uncle Frank will be the first to crack, but he’ll make it a whole forty minutes.”
“What are we talking about?” her cousin Joey asked, perching on the edge of the coffee table in front of them.
“Gage is on his way,” Luca replied. “We’re comparing our bets.”
Joey’s eyes lit up, the damn pool his idea in the first place. “I’ve got Nonno blowing a gasket within the first ten minutes.”
They all laughed, Keeley shaking her head. “You guys are terrible. You should be ashamed of yourselves. This is a historic occasion, and I think it’s wonderful of your nonna to try to build a bridge between the families.”
Joey snorted. “You know, your little speech might make me feel guilty if I didn’t know you’ve also put money down on Nonno.”
“Yes, but I have more faith in the dear man than you. He’ll make it an hour, for sure,” Keeley replied, giggling.
“I think you’re all going to be disappointed,” Rhys, Penny’s brother, said, as he and Tony joined the conversation. “My money is on Gage winning them all over.”
Tony chuckled. “I’m with Rhys. This is Gage we’re talking about. Now, if it was Matt Russo, it would be a different story.”
Joey stood up, punching his older brother on the shoulder playfully. “Nobody would have bothered with a betting pool if that had been the case. Everyone would have picked you, kicking Matt out within the first sixty seconds.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Luca gestured toward Liza. “My money would have been on her, and Matt wouldn’t have even cleared the front door.”
Everyone, with the exception of Liza, laughed at Luca’s joke, though she understood why they would believe that to be true. She’d made no bones about her disdain for Matt.
Unfortunately, the mere mention of Matt’s name had her insides fluttering.
If the same conversation had happened a month earlier, Liza would have been leading the charge, but then…a week ago, the Snowflake Gala had happened.
Well, not the gala, per se, but what came after.
She’d slept with Matt Russo. She’d been saying those words to herself constantly since that night, trying to make them sink in. Even now, every second of that night still felt like…God, like a fever dream, though it sure as shit hadn’t been unpleasant.
Anything but.
Because it had been the best sex of her life.
Liza had replayed it over and over until she’d gone nearly mad. She didn’t even bother putting her vibrator away anymore. Every night, she crawled between the sheets, reran the memory of Matt Russo going down to his knees before her, giving her that orgasm that rattled every bone in her body, and within seconds, she was going off like a bottle rocket. Then she’d replay the second and third and—God help her—fourth orgasms, and before she knew it, she would be there again and again, her heart racing, her sheets soaked in sweat.
He’d awakened something inside her that she couldn’t silence.
No. The truth was she didn’t want to silence it, which was dangerous and terrifying and even a little bit exhilarating.
Matt had been a demanding lover, more so than any man in the past, and she’d responded to it in ways she didn’t fully understand or expect.
Liza didn’t have a submissive bone in her body. She forged her own path, knew her own mind, and did as she pleased. She didn’t let others dictate to her. Ever.
Yet, that night with Matt, she’d found herself wanting to—Jesus—obey him. Even the mere thought of that word left a bad taste in her mouth, but there was no denying that when it came to sex with him, she’d felt herself softening, responding to his demands, even longing for them. She’d wanted to put herself completely in his hands, and for some insane reason, she genuinely trusted him to take care of her.
After Matt insisted she spend the entire night with him, she’d lain next to him, only managing an hour or two of restless sleep before she woke up and freaked out. She’d gotten out of his bed in the middle of the night, anxious to escape his overwhelming presence in hopes of coming to her senses.
That hadn’t happened yet, and she was beginning to lose hope it would.
The worst part was they had to work together, so it wasn’t like she could lay low until she did get her shit together. Something told her she could avoid Matt Russo for ten years and still not get him out of her system.
“You okay?” Keeley said softly, nudging Liza’s thigh with her foot. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
Liza nodded, the response a lie. She hadn’t told a single soul about her faux pas following the gala. Not because she was embarrassed by it. Hell, she couldn’t truly convince herself it was a mistake. For the last couple of days, she’d actually begun to wonder if she should call him. They were both single adults and they’d shared a strong sexual chemistry. What would be the harm in expanding on that? Exploring it?
No, it wasn’t shame or even that silly feud keeping her quiet with her friends and family. It was simply that she couldn’t find the words to accurately describe that night and what it had meant to her.
Best night ever just didn’t feel strong enough.
Keeley didn’t look convinced, but fortunately, before she could press for more, the doorbell rang.
Luca rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Nothing I like more than dinner and a show.”
Liza rolled her eyes, grinning, then she rose and walked over to answer the front door. Nonna and Nonno got there first.
Nonna pulled Penny and Gage into the living room, out of the cold, giving Penny a big hug.
“Merry Christmas, Nonna,” Penny said cheerfully. While Nonna had countless grandkids, that didn’t stop her from acquiring “adopted ones,” including Kayden and Keeley, whose parents were killed in a plane crash, as well as Rhys and his sister, Penny, Aldo’s girlfriend, Hazel, and one of Liza’s best friends—who was now her sister-in-law—Gianna.
Nonna was the greatest hugger on the planet, her squeezes tight and warm and wonderful. When she released her, Penny smiled, then introduced her to Gage.
“This is my husband, Gage.”
Gage held out his hand. “Mrs. Moretti, it’s a pleasure to meet you. It was very nice of you to invite us for dessert. Penny has told me so many great things about you.”
Nonna frowned as she looked at his outstretched hand and, for a moment, Liza and Luca shared a surprised glance, especially when she put her hands on her hips. Because nobody had put money on Nonna.
“If she told you about me, then you’d know to call me Nonna, like everyone does. And we don’t shake hands in this family, young man. We hug.”
The Russos, unlike the Morettis, were low on family. Like, way low. She and Gage had discussed it once, and Gage admitted the only family still living that he knew of were his two brothers, Matt and Conor. Apparently, they’d never met their mother’s family at all, and their paternal grandparents had both passed away.
So Liza didn’t miss the outright shock on Gage’s face as Nonna pulled him into her arms. Nor did she miss the way it quickly morphed to absolute delight. Gage was a jovial guy, rarely without a smile, but she’d never seen him so moved.
When the embrace ended, he said, “Thank you, Nonna,” in a thick voice that had Liza blinking a few times to beat back tears.
Nonno must have noticed it too because something softened in his stiff posture. He gave Gage a genuine smile. “I’m Nonno Moretti.”
Those introductions set the tone for the rest of the family, and it became apparent immediately that no one was going to win the betting kitty. Not that anyone cared because it was Christmas Eve, and the party was just getting started.
Her father and Nonno brought out their accordions, the wine glasses were either refilled or—for some—exchanged for coffee cups. Dessert was served and even though Liza was so full she thought she would pop, she managed to put down enough tiramisu to choke a cat. Her annual diet always started the day after New Year’s Day, as she was forced to drop the five pounds she gained in this single night.
