Page 11 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

It was 1 of r vocab words in Honors English. I get extra credit if I can show I used it in a sentence. Pic?

Zoe opened the camera app and lifted her phone. But instead of a view of the Mediterranean, with its azure water and cloudless sky, she stalled on Dante’s bootylicious ass, this time covered in a butt-hugging swimsuit that left little to the imagination—not that she needed to do any imagining.

Damn. For a hot second, she forgot that her mere presence gave him the heebie-jeebies and drank in his unadulterated male beauty as he stood by the edge of the pool, head bowed, contemplating the gently rippling surface. In one swift move, he lifted his arms and pushed off the side, slicing gracefully through the air and breaking the water without a splash.

He moved through the water as smoothly and surely as he did the air, surfacing at the far end of the pool. Her breath caught as he stood and slicked his hair back from his face, water dripping deliciously off his shoulders and back.

His head swiveled in her direction, and she shrank away, pressing herself against the balcony wall. She felt like some cheap voyeur, spying on him for the second time in as many days. Not that it stopped her from looking.

He opened his eyes, and for a heartbeat she saw something that looked like pain. Raw and naked, it made him appear vulnerable, and she almost felt sorry for him. But it faded as fast as it came, replaced by an icy hardness that reminded her of the sharp bite of his words earlier.

She tipped her head back against the wall and sighed. Why were the gorgeous ones always such jerks? What had she done to make him hate her so much? Besides show up, that was.

No. She wasn’t going to concern herself with his motives. It didn’t matter why he wanted her gone because she wasn’t going anywhere. She could give as good as she got. Whatever he did to annoy her, she’d do something twice as bad. Paint her nails in the living room with the windows closed. Leave dirty dishes in the sink. Or wet towels on the bathroom floor. They’d see who broke first.

Her money was on him.

Her phone, forgotten in her hand, buzzed, and she looked down to see another text from Fliss.

Hello? U still there? Where’s my pic?

She risked a glance over the railing. Dante was still there, hoisting himself out of the pool, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling with the effort. She resisted the urge to ogle, snapped a quick picture of the horizon, and texted it to her sister.How’s that?

Fliss’s reply came a few seconds later.Nice. But it would be better if I was there with u 2 see it in person. R u sure I can’t come visit 4 a few days?

That was a big hell to the no for obvious reasons, ones Zoe wasn’t about to share with her impressionable younger sister.And miss school in the beginning of your senior year? You should be working on your college applications. Besides, who will hold down the fort until I get back? I’m counting on you to make sure Mom and Dad eat three meals a day and pay the utilities.

Of the three of them, Fliss, at only seventeen, was the most reliable. Their father was more concerned with puttering around in his workshop than paying bills. He reminded her of the dad inChitty Chitty Bang Bang, always inventing some new gadget that was supposed to change the world but never did. And Fliss’s mother—Zoe’s stepmother—wasn’t much better. Dreamers, both of them, living with their heads in the clouds.

Zoe watched the bubbles on her phone as she waited for Fliss to text back.Fine, be that way. Joy sucker. U better bring me back something from Gucci. Or Fendi. I’m not picky.

Deal.She returned her phone to her pocket and stole one last glance toward the pool. Empty. Not a perfectly formed gluteus maximus in sight. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Relieved, she told herself.100 percent relieved.

She went back inside, closing the sliding glass door behind her, and scanned her room for the elusive dictionary. She spotted one corner sticking out from under the bed and crouched down to grab it. Then she shoved it into her backpack, slung the bag over her shoulder, and headed back downstairs to the garage, mentally crossing her fingers that she wouldn’t run into Dante on the way.

She got as far as the foyer before her luck ran out.

“Back so soon?” he asked, taking the towel from around his neck and wiping his face, running it over his aristocratic cheekbones and strong jaw. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t get used to driving on the other side of the road?”

She huffed out a breath. “We drive on the right, too, you know. I came back because I forgot my wallet. Can’t get food without euros.”

She patted her backpack, as if to make sure the money was still there. No way was she admitting she couldn’t manage a simple shopping trip without a dictionary.

One corner of his lip curled, making it clear he didn’t believe one word of her spur-of-the-moment explanation. “You’d better hurry. The market closes at noon forriposa.”

“Riposa?”

“Like asiesta. Businesses shut down for a few hours so people can enjoy a long lunch or a nap when the day is at its hottest.”

Right. She definitely wasn’t in the States anymore. She couldn’t imagine her complete dick of an ex-boss letting her goof off in the middle of the day. Unless he wanted her out of his way so he could rifle through her desk or hack into her computer and snoop through her files.

She shook off thoughts of Smarmy Marty and his dirty tricks and pushed her sunglasses up her nose. “Everything shuts down?”

“Pretty much.”

She bit her lip as she studied him, his arms folded across his broad chest, bare feet planted firmly apart on the smooth tiles. Every inch of him, every pore, seemed to radiate a kind of restless energy, like a racehorse at the starting gate. “Somehow I can’t picture you loitering over lunch or napping during daylight hours.”