Page 39 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

Gianni put a hand to his heart and staggered back as if he’d been shot. “You wound me. And I prefer the term ‘coastal entrepreneur.’”

Dante ignored his friend, stepping out of the boat and extending a hand to Zoe. “We should try to catch the next ferry.”

She pushed his hand aside—she was done getting caught in their testosterone-fueled pissing match—slipped her feet into her flip-flops, and disembarked under her own power.

Gianni joined them on the dock and clapped Dante on the shoulder. “Remember what I said. Nicole would want you to be happy.”

Dante mumbled a noncommittal response, picked up his duffel, and stalked down the dock toward the shore. Zoe wondered briefly if Nicole was the woman in the photo she saw in the study, but she squashed the thought as quickly as it popped up. She didn’t have time for that now, not with Dante already halfway to the ferry. She said a hasty thank-you and goodbye to Gianni before tossing her sundress on over her swimsuit, grabbing her bag, and racing after her roommate.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zoe asked when she caught up to him. “You didn’t even thank your friend.”

“I’ll send him a card,” Dante quipped, not breaking his stride. “Maybe an assortment of chocolates or a nice fruit basket.”

“You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“He didn’t have to be so forward.”

“Forward?”

“Kissing your hand. Calling youbella. Inviting you to come see him again. Alone.”

“How is any of that your concern?” Zoe huffed, struggling to keep pace with him. Damn those long, strong legs. “I’m on vacation. Why can’t I have a little fun? It’s not like you’re interested in me. You made that perfectly clear at the villa this morning.”

“Do we have to do this now?” He reached the end of the dock and crossed the street, heading for the ticket office. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the ferry.”

“I’ll let it go for now in the interest of getting on that boat and getting back to the mainland.” She followed him into the building. “But don’t think this topic is closed.”

“Is any topic ever closed with you?”

“No.” She flashed him her biggest, most innocent smile. “Not really.”

A loudspeaker squawked, and a woman’s voice filled the room, first in Italian, then in English. “We apologize for the inconvenience, but all remaining ferries have been canceled for the day due to rough seas. The next ferry will depart at nine a.m. tomorrow, weather permitting.”

A collective groan rose from the crowd waiting to purchase tickets.

Zoe scowled so hard she could feel the wrinkles furrowing her forehead. This was so not going according to plan. Spending the day with Dante was hard enough. But spending the night together? That was unthinkable. “How are we supposed to get back?”

“We’re not,” Dante admitted, unzipping the outer pocket of his bag and pulling out his cell phone. “Not tonight. We’ll have to find somewhere to stay on the island.”

“I suggest you do it quickly,” a man in a crisp white uniform identifying him as part of the crew interjected. “With so many people caught off guard by the storm, rooms are filling up fast.”

Zoe’s panic must have been plastered all over her face because Dante jumped in to reassure her.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he scrolled down the contact list on his phone. “I have a friend at one of the hotels here.”

“Another friend? Is there anywhere you don’t have an inside connection?”

“No.” Now it was his turn to attempt an innocent smile. “Not really.”

“Aren’t you worried he’ll hit on me?”

“He’s a she, and no.”

“Figures,” Zoe grumbled, plopping herself down on a bench in the corner while Dante made his call. With his looks, money, and sex appeal, he probably had a woman in every hotel from Milan to Sicily. Not that she cared. She had no more reason to be jealous of his “friends” than he did of Gianni.

So why were her insides twisted up like a balloon animal?

Five agonizing minutes later, he stuffed his cell phone back into his bag and sat down next to her. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”