No Strings Attached

Chapter Two

"Hold on, let me tell Carlos about this. He has been waiting all day to hear what he was like." I roll my eyes. "Carlos! Come here!"

I flinch at her shout, hoping they're behind closed doors and not in public this fucked-up.

"Did she meet him? Did she?"

"How many drinks have you two had?"

"Three... maybe seven. I'm not sure," Carlos jokes. He's been my closest friend at the firm since we both started downstairs in the coffee shop. Now, he's the head photographer for the company. "Did you meet him? How sexy was he, on a scale from fuck-able to stalk-able?"

"I'm not answering that," I say, picking up the phone, turning it off the speaker.

"Oh, come on!" Rebecca whines, clearly highly intoxicated.

"He is a client."

"Doesn't make him any less hot... Hell, it makes him hotter. Forbidden fruit."

I shake my head. "I'm going to bed. You both definitely should too."

"We're not done with this conversation!"

"Oh, yes, we are," I reply, hanging up, knowing they will make sure this conversation isn't done.

Giovanni Martinelli is regarded to us simple folk as this unreachable, wild, exotic sexual being. He's constantly with a different woman, constantly out on the town, always looking his absolute best.

The paparazzi can count on finding him when the sun sets, skilled now in penning him as the heartless bad-boy who cares only about partying and screwing.

I have a feeling it's going to be difficult to repair his image.

He probably won't like it too much either.

***

"We're here, ma'am," my driver says politely, and only now do I realize that we've pulled up to a curb and he's already holding my door open. I tear my eyes from my phone, sending my email to Rebecca, and stuff my phone into my purse.

"Thank you."

I step out onto the busy curbside, looking up at the restaurant curiously.

Thai cuisine... interesting choice.

I grab onto the door handle, glancing down at my watch. I'm early, great.

I approach the podium, smiling. "Hi. Um, I believe there is a reservation under Martinelli."

"Yes, the other member of your party is already here."

Oh. I blink back the surprise as she directs me through the crowded room, not a free table in sight. The lighting in the room is nearly dimmed to darkness, the windows draped with thick crimson drapes to compliment the dark wood furniture. The carved Thai designs are stunning. My eyes appreciate them as we skirt around the large tables of businessmen and loud engagement parties. Suddenly she stops, and I nearly run into her, distracted by the décor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I apologize, backing up, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips as my eyes flicker from her perfectly trimmed hair to the tall figure now standing up by the table.

My mouth dries at the sight of Giovanni, dressed in dark jeans and a black sweater. The v-cut in the sweater is low enough to expose dark, trimmed chest hair and tight enough to see the indent between his pecks and his firm abdomen.

By the time I'm looking further down, I realize what I'm doing and quickly send my eyes straight up into his own, praying I don't blush or give away what he manages to do to me simply by breathing.