The terracotta roofed homes nestled between the green hills created a picture perfect postcard. Hampton summers with her parents prior to her life going to shit flashed in her mind. Her eyes moistened thinking about better times.
Lex lowered her tortoiseshell sunglasses over her eyes, grateful for the privacy they afforded her. “Is your father alive? I take it he’s not at the palace.” She didn’t remember reading any press on his father—ever. The tabloids kept the Tittoni coverage on the prince. Editorials remained somewhat shallow with sex and beach stories on his night life.
“No, he died last year. He was in his seventies.” He kept his eyes on the road.
“Seventies? Massimo your father would’ve been—”
“Old when my mother gave birth to me, yes. My madre was eighteen when she wed my padre. There were thirty years between them. She passed away when I was seven in a boating accident.”
They rounded a corner and headed up the opposing hillside.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Massimo didn’t have any immediate family. “Can you tell me where this royalty fits in?”
He motioned to the beaches out the car window. “My famiglia founded the isle. Declared by the Italy’s King as royal sovereigns, the House of Tittonis created their own small kingdom. His son, my grandfather, developed the resorts you see on your right. And my padre added the casinos alongside our beaches.”
“It’s very impressive,” Lex complimented him on Isola di Girasoli’s beauty, more than she expected.
“Today, the royal crest is a society title, tax break and a privilege to live on the isola during the holidays. But I’m hoping to change the misfortunes in years to come—rebuild our empire and its riches.”
“We have some things in common.” Lex deliberated on her finances and fought the urge to scream. “How much farther ’til we reach the airport?” she asked, reminding herself she needed to secure the fabrics and return to New York Fashion Week preparations. No time for new friendships.
“Almost there, it is up this bluff.” He shifted the racer into overdrive. “I do not get to be here often. Since I am the heir, the royal secretary keeps my schedule packed with appearances in France, Germany and England.”
“Wow, you sure do travel a lot. When I was a kid, we took vacations all over the world. Today I pretty much stick to Manhattan and work.” I have no life.
“I know what you mean. Any downtime I have is spent at my Milano home. It is close to the factory.”
“How does Girasoli Garment Company come into this?” Lex noted the brochures she received on Girasoli illuminated zero heritage on the brand. Girasoli severed itself from its origins and started anew.
“My great grandfather founded Girasoli Garments to make money on the side. He loved private enterprise and Italiano textiles. No money in being a royal. There are a few families in Europe who have separate income streams such as the Tittoni’s. My great grandfather flipped his sunflower cropping business to fabrics and Girasoli Garment Company began.”
“Interesting. I love sunflowers.” She thought about what it would take to get Massimo to vacate the fashion world and go back to growing plants
Massimo turned into the small airport, which boasted a dozen planes and a helicopter. “Ready?” He brought the hot wheels to a halt and added, “Flying time will be about an hour and ten minutes.”
* * * * *
Now is an appropriate time to start popping Xanax. Lex tried to settle her stomach from the car ride as she stepped away from the roadster. The dried clay left a film over her shoes with each step. The tarmac, situated at the island’s highest peak, overlooked the village, the palace and even Sicily. She walked over to the cliffside to clear her head. Inhaling aromas from lemon trees, farmed fruits and a briny ocean tang engulfed her senses. As she relaxed her shoulders, the scent put her in a peaceful mood. For a second, she forgot about her worries.
Lex noticed Massimo already at the plane and hurried over.
The single engine jet, although undersized, was striking. Similar to the prince’s sports car.
Cupping her hands around her eyes, she pressed her face to the window to see a tiny cockpit. “Where’s the pilot?”
“Right here.” He held out the keys, walking around the plane’s right side, smirking, and posing as Indiana Jones on the last crusade. She hoped they weren’t heading toward the Temple of Doom. Massimo rivaled Mr. Jones in hotness, she prayed not in adventure.
“Do you have a pilot’s license?” she asked, unsure if they taught aviation at The Royal Millionaire Playboy Academy.
“Sì, signorina.” He shook his head poking fun at her.
“I’m serious. Show me your license please?” Lex held on to the plane’s door as if it were a gate to hell. Christian Dior, get me outta here.
Massimo closed the distance between them in response. “Give me your hand.” Not waiting for her to respond, he grabbed her mitts from the door. “Bella, you are shaking,” he noticed and secured his fingers around hers, massaging her palm into his.
Strong hands. “You may call me Lex, not Bella. This isn’t Twilight.” She didn’t care for paranormal.
“Lex,” he whispered in a soothing voice meant for sarcasm, but his tone turned her on. Pillow talk fabulous, he continued, “You are in good hands. I fly, race, sail. I have licenses for many things. Per favore get in.” He held the door open as she stepped up. “Here, let me help you,” he proposed as his large square hands grazed under her ass, sliding her into the cockpit.
“Watch it!” Lex’s tits hardened in stark arousal. Light as air is how she became when he more or less threw her into the cockpit. “Ahhhhh!” She screamed. Massimo’s gentle intent was overlooked as she bounced when he lifted her up high.
“Scusi,” Massimo apologized. Taunting her, he hung in the doorway and stared down over her—as if they were in bed together. And he’d spread her legs and thrust upon her. But he didn’t. He gave her a confident nod, self-assured she wanted him.
I hate you. Flabbergasted into silence, she ogled him as he clicked her seat belt in. Mortification erupted as he slipped his hands under the straps grazing her erect nipples. Not because he touched her—hell, the prince could do anything he desired. But because Massimo confirmed to them both she was aroused. She wanted him. Her mouth said fuck off but her body danced fuck me. “You’re copping a feel.”