and brokenhearted. Reliving that nightmare would be beyond stupid.
Yeah. She had a major crush on Lorenzo—she jonesed over him. But she also had a thing for James Franco, which meant nothing. Stick with Franco. Instagram. Got it?
“I’ll try my best to grant you your well-deserved serenity.”
“One day at a time I guess, right?” she thought out loud. This was going to be a challenge. Workout boot camps had nothing on spending every waking moment next to the man who threatened to squash her self-control and questionable morals. Was she ready to face the reality of literally waking up to a man she had masturbated over?
He winked at her. “There’s your motivational quote.”
“How about some prosecco?” Viola lifted her glass as they met her downstairs. Lunch was served casually out on the main terrace overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Lorenzo nodded at the group of people gathered around and declined the alcohol. Yet again.
“That would be great.” Alice accepted the flute the waiter offered, her fingers clasping the stem.
Lorenzo reached to loosen his tie and was startled when he realized the shirt he wore already had the top button open. And no tie.
Alice smiled and lifted the drink to her lips. A light blue V-neck dress outlined her curves, and her hair tumbled down her shoulders.
He clutched his fingers into a fist, resisting the urge to touch her skin. Ever since a couple hours before, when they had to bathe and get dressed in the same confined space, his libido had stirred into fourth gear.
He had checked his email in the en suite while she got ready and took the opportunity to call the camp and ask about Cara. Then Alice slipped to the balcony, and he caught a glimpse of that same entranced expression she wore earlier, as if the sea somehow kept her in a hypnotic state.
He’d showered and shaved, and found himself patting the minty aftershave on his cheeks for a bit longer than usual.
“Lorenzo?” Viola’s voice brought him to reality. He blinked and turned to the woman at his side. “May I introduce you to Paul Smythe? He’s also a lover of the arts and a well-known dealer.”
“Of course. Nice to see you again, Paul,” he said. He had bumped into Mr. Pretty Boy on several social occasions and always found him harmless. In fact, Smythe’s over-the-top, cheesy antics often amused him. At a recent coveted auction, Lorenzo outbid him just for the heck of it. However, the dark glint in Smythe’s baby blues, along with the ambitious grin on his face, hinted he could be trouble this time around.
“Same here.” Paul raised his glass of scotch. “I must say,” he continued with his well-bred British accent, “I had no idea you socialized with such an interesting group of people, Viola. I find it most fascinating.”
Viola raised her eyebrow. “My ex-husband’s art is wanted by many. I’ve been wined and dined by a lot of dealers and connoisseurs recently.”
“Of course. How did you hear of Benicio’s work, Lorenzo?” Paul turned to him.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Lorenzo injected, an uncharacteristic playfulness in the tone, and lifted his hand to his collar. Did Paul know anything about Benicio’s life? Doubtful. If he knew, he wouldn’t be interested in representing the work of a possible terrorist. Lorenzo had played with the idea of planting that seed in the social circles, to avoid others from buying the art. However, it was far too dangerous—what if the story leaked, and he ended up jeopardizing his career and Cara’s future?
Viola shrugged. “Money isn’t a problem for me. I want someone who really knows what they’re doing, and since I’m not the usual client, this isn’t the usual transaction.”
“My admiration for you grows even more,” Paul said in a syrupy voice. “My wife, Joan, and I are happy to be a part of such an historic decision. Aren’t we, dear?” He held the hand of the leggy blonde next to him.
“Yes,” she purred. “Of course.”
Lorenzo sucked the air around him so deeply, he only released it when a lump of oxygen got trapped in his throat. For the next twenty minutes, he observed as Paul and his wife shared a couple of jokes and talked with familiarity, leaning into each other with lengthy glances.
“Are you okay? You got pale there for a moment,” Alice whispered.
He took a step away from the group, taking her with him. His fingers on her waist was their first intimate contact of the day, and