Her fingers were strong, smooth, and trembled ever so slightly in his grip. She dominated the challenging conversation that most men wouldn’t have been able to follow, and she never lost her footing. yet when he’d made his comment about her being different from her family, she’d stiffened and pain had flared in her cocoa eyes.

Beneath that tight, buttoned-up demeanor was a tangle of passion, emotion, and mess. The best decision lay before him. Cancel the dinner. Back away from the deal. Move on.

A woman like Julietta had the power to wreck his concen-tration, screw with his business, and make his life miserable.

yet something pulled him to her. Twisted his insides with a raw need to strip her surface bare and make her face who she really was. The way she responded to his demand that she say his name spoke volumes. She had natural submissive tendencies, which intrigued his dominant side.

What would she be like in bed? Her mind was so bent on constant control, he bet she had a hard time focusing on the pleasures of her body.

He could teach her.

His blood pounded and heated through his veins. She wouldn’t be an easy match, though. She’d be one major pain in the ass. Did he have time for this now? His long-held dream of building his own hotel empire lay right before him. Tying her up in his business could prove risky. But damn, tying her up in any way, shape, or form was too fucking tempting.

Sawyer realized the past few years he’d been skimming the edges with women. He played at relationships to a point he wouldn’t know a real connection if it was advertised in blinding neon. Work had been his driving force for the past decade, and it remained his sole demanding mistress. His forays into pleasure were set ahead of time with ironclad rules. But many women slipped into clinginess and emotion he couldn’t handle, forcing him to end the relationship quickly. Julietta might be able to offer him a bit more depth, with the ability to keep business separate from pleasure.

Most women couldn’t handle the limitations.

He bet Julietta Conte handled any challenge thrown at her.

Sawyer tapped his finger against his lips and analyzed all the options. Such a delicate line to walk between business and pleasure. Snakes twisted in a pit beneath him, ready for even one misstep. She’d need to be handled with kid gloves at first, before he switched to the delicious sting of the whip. He needed to learn what drove her, what she hid, and how best to yank away years of barriers. Was it too risky, especially when he was about to unveil his dream and his only reason for survival all these years?

The answer coursed through him with a bone-deep knowledge he never questioned.

And he made the decision he’d wanted to from the moment he met her.

Chapter Three

Julietta glanced up: 4:58 p.m.

The papers were spread neatly in front of her on the conference table. The room was quiet, and just the hum of low chatter and ringing phones drifted in waves. She had informed the board. Spoken with the lawyers. Made a call to Michael. Pounded out numbers nonstop through the night and refused to sleep. And came up with one decision.

She’d be crazy not to take the deal.

It would be her opportunity to do something on a global scale for the company. Though she’d been acting Ceo, it had only been a few years ago she’d been given full control.

Her brother had true intentions but still kept the reins on her leadership role until he married Maggie and saw the error of his ways. Finally, she had leapt forward and started making deals on her own. When Michael had begun infil-trating top hotels in the States, Julietta had burned with the desire to push the bakery chain to a new level in Italy. She’d already conquered the street market, but she wanted to go after the hotels. The big ones. The failure of her last deal with The Palazzo still stung. She’d been completely prepared, and every pore of her body had craved a final deal.

She hated the simmering knowledge that The Palazzo’s ex-ecutive team didn’t believe a woman could give them what they desired. oh, in bed, yes. But in business?

No. Instead, they gave the deal to her competitor who boasted no vision and an Italian patriarch grandfather.

Julietta realized too late The Palazzo wanted full control over her. once they’d realized the little woman had a strong voice, they’d dropped her contract without another word.

But now she faced a resurrection of her dream. Sawyer’s contract could launch La Dolce Famiglia into the world of luxurious hotels.

There were risks, though. With an exclusive contract, she’d be unable to install any other bakeries. She’d be locked up with Purity, and if Sawyer failed, so would she.

The gamble lay before her in all shades of gray. excitement pulsed through her. When was the last time she’d gotten fired up about a deal? She desperately needed a challenge to focus on to launch her out of the current self-pity tour she hosted every evening. There was nothing better than a shot of adrenaline on a new contract.

Five p.m.

The intercom buzzed. She hit the button. “yes?”

“Ms. Conte, Sawyer Wells is on the line. May I put him through?”

She shook her head and fought a smile. “yes, thank you.”

The connection hummed. His voice spilled like gravel and silk over the phone. “Have you made a decision?”

“Prompt, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He paused. “We can play another round and drag the discussion out over dinner. or I can persuade you in the manner you need. I’m quite good at persuasion.”

His arrogance was overwhelming and sexy as hell.

Damn, he’d be fun to work with. “No need. I’ve been wined and dined by the best. Never made a decision based on such techniques either.”

His dark laugh was like a subtle threat. “you’re not familiar with my moves.”

“I’ve found most male moves overrated.”

“Delightful. A challenge.”

Julietta gave a long-suffering sigh. Better to get the truth out over dinner. If Sawyer thought he’d get some extra side benefits while they worked together, he was quite mistaken. She hoped he wouldn’t get cranky and surly like the other rejects. “Trust me, it was simple truth and not meant to wave a red flag in front of you. My answer is yes.”

Silence fell between them. She waited him out. “yes?”

“Do I need to repeat myself? I’ll sign the contract. you can still meet me here at headquarters at seven so we can celebrate. A pleasure conversing with you, Mr. Wells.”

She clicked off her earpiece. Satisfaction surged. Her tiny rebellion with his name may have been childish, but well worth it. obviously, he was way too used to women jumping at his call and throwing off their clothes. Time he realized he couldn’t get anyone he wanted because the angels bestowed him the gift of hotness.

regret nudged her. What would it feel like just once to have a strong physical reaction to a man without worrying about freezing up? For it to be simple and clean. Just nakedness and orgasms and an early morning getaway.

Pathetic. If that was her only deficiency in life, she could call herself blessed. At least she had a juicy new deal ahead of her, with long hours of work and a deep satisfaction that called to her.

Success.

Completion.

Achievement.

It was enough.

She repeated the mantra to herself as she got back to work. The hours flew by. Julietta took her last two minutes to smooth back her hair, re-knot her scarf, and tuck her folders away. He arrived on time and in full male glory. Her gaze raked over him with a hint of crankiness. He stood in the doorway and refused to say a word. His quiet arrogance radiated in waves around his figure, and she fought the need to drop her head in recognition. Weirdness.

He wore a charcoal-gray pin-striped suit with a purple tie. The ruthless severity of the suit contradicted with his surfer hair tied back in a short ponytail, setting off the hard lines of his cheekbones and the red scar. The combination of raw sex and power cloaked in masculine grace transfixed her for just a moment. Julietta mentally shook herself. No more drooling. Defenses up. Game on.

“you like being in charge, don’t you, Julietta?”

The stroke of her name was deliberate and effective.

She forced a pleasant smile. “Doesn’t every woman?”

“you won’t let me see your apartment. Not even your private office. I’ve been delegated to picking you up for dinner in your conference room.”

Julietta grabbed her red Fendi bag and closed the distance between them. His body pumped out heat, and she had to tilt her head back a few inches in order to meet his gaze. God, he smelled good. Like coffee and spices, rich and all male. Her height usually gave her an advantage. At almost six feet, she usually towered over her competition, but he topped her by several inches. She realized now the sheer breadth and size of his massive shoulders stretched in his proper suit jacket was another contradiction. He was a primitive wrapped up in civilization. The veneer scared her the most, but she wouldn’t let herself be in such an intimate position with him. She had to set boundaries immediately, or he’d swallow her whole. “I may have agreed to the contract, but I never invite anyone into my private space.”

Sawyer didn’t budge. “ever?” he asked softly.

“our working relationship doesn’t guarantee a friend-ship, Sawyer. you may have met my family, and we may be going to dinner, but I don’t know you well enough for anything more.”

He seemed to analyze her words. Nodded. “Fair enough.

I figured we’d walk to Piazza repubblica.”

“Perfect.”

He ushered her out of headquarters as if he were in charge. His hand rested on the curve of her elbow, his fingers strong but gentle as he guided her over the uneven cobblestone pathways as they walked toward the restaurant.

The familiar sights and scents of Milan rushed past her.

She breathed in the heavy, fogged air that made the city unique, and she settled into a comfortable silence. The bustle of cars and pedestrians crowding the streets and sidewalks lent a purposeful atmosphere that soothed her soul.

Motorbikes roared by. Beautifully clad women in designer suits and high-heeled shoes weaved in and out amidst the crowd with elegant grace, and sidewalk café tables spilled onto the sidewalk with the scents of espresso and baked goods.

She’d seen videos of New york City and always felt Milan must be a close second cousin except for the grayish mist that cloaked the city and made it seem almost muddy to a viewer’s eye. Instead of towering glass buildings, the ancient architecture of the Duomo reigned.

They finally reached the elegant archway of repubblica.

It was already crowded, but they were immediately ushered to a red booth in the corner, and Sawyer ordered a bottle of champagne. The simple clean lines of the restaurant pleased her—the crisp white linens, polished floors, high ceilings, and candles scattering throughout the dimly lit interior. She chatted with the waiter, ordered appetizers, and began to relax.

“No briefcase?” he noted. He lifted the delicate champagne glass to his lips and took a swallow. The imprint of his mouth made a strange shudder squeeze through her. The heat rushed through the vents to ward off the chilly winter evening. She unbuttoned her suit jacket and hung it on the chair.