Filled with endless trinkets, clothes, food, and jewelry, Navigli boasted one of the most wonderful markets in Milan. In the evening, the place came alive with a variety of hip-hop nightclubs, cafés, and shopping. With sunset approaching soon, the crowds would build, so Julietta stuffed their water and uneaten wrapped food into her saddlebag and took off again.
She gave him credit. Sawyer never said a word.
But his gaze followed every swing of her hips and caught her sneaky half glances. The man’s ass was compa-rable to David’s, and Michelangelo’s statue had brought her to tears.
Julietta looked at the sky. Not too much longer before dark hit. She craved the bite of adrenaline she usually achieved from the closure of a good business deal. But she’d just found another way to get her hit.
Julietta stopped her bike, cocked her hip, and made the offer. “I’m heading toward Castello Sforzesco. There’s a nice open road to let the bikes breathe. Let’s see who gets there first.”
Surprise skittered across his face. “you wanna race?”
“Call it what you want. I plan on welcoming you at the gate.”
He threw his head back and laughed long and hard. The sound was sweeter than Mozart and sexier than Pavarotti.
“you’ve got to be kidding. This baby has more balls than most bikes on the market.”
She smiled sweetly. “I’m sure you both do. See you there.”
Julietta’s skin prickled with anticipation, and the blood in her veins heated and rushed with the challenge.
She took off toward Castello Sforzesco in a race to beat the dying sun and the man beside her. Julietta hated to admit he rode like a pro and handled the meatiness of the bike with a grace most men couldn’t imitate. She’d ridden with many men throughout her lifetime: some family, some friends, some lovers. Usually she was disappointed in the aggression and selfishness of the rider.
Not Sawyer. He respected the power of Claudio Castiglioni’s prized possession, never trying to reach the 196 mph the bike was reputed to achieve, and instead using the mechanics like a lover, coaxing the best with a seductive skill that made her soaking wet between her thighs. He was also a dominant driver, fully in control through each bend of the road, fiercely concentrating on his goal.
Brash for brash, he should’ve won. But Julietta had been racing for years, knew the streets like an old lover, and excelled at weaving in and out through obstacles in the bustling city. She eventually took the lead and held it tight, pushing the limit of speed and agility as the rush burned through her and took command.
When she finally reached the castle, she was a few beats ahead. The towering stone ruins dominated the view, but the quiet park behind the structure was her main focus. She cut off the bike, unfastened her helmet, and waited for him to cut his engine.
Sawyer slid off the now-quiet bike. She waited for his response and prepped for a cutting remark. or a joke. or an excuse.
But he didn’t speak. Just grabbed her saddlebag with their lunch and allowed her to lead him through the cobbled pathways to an open area. The ground was still cold, so they settled for the carved benches scattered amidst the towering trees and picked a spot where the Castello was perfectly positioned for study.
She loved riding along the road where the stunning clock tower thrust into the sky, surrounded by a mass of carved stone. A massive water fountain welcomed visitors in, the multiple streams of water spitting out in the marble circle and catching the last rays of light. The cobbled paths wound in an intricate pattern where tourists could stroll, shop, or grab a quick bite from a market vendor. Being close to such antique beauty reminded her that life was long and many things didn’t last, but the things that mattered would.
Sawyer remained silent, as if he too was under the spell of a good ride. He unwrapped their sandwiches, and they shared the food: hard, crusty bread; fat, salty olives; and the delicious small salami strolghino di culatello, paired with creamy sheep’s milk Gorgonzola blue cheese. The scone with strawberry butter added a bit of sweetness to complete the meal.
Her shoulders relaxed even more and she ate in perfect solitude, looking out at the view. Her mind was finally blank, as if she had just departed from the ashrams of India after a weeklong meditation.
“Hell of a bike for a hell of a rider. Mind sharing how you learned to handle that thing, let alone know what it can do?”
Pride etched her face. “My brother, Michael, raced cars on the circuit. His love of good and fast machinery extended to motorcycles, and I got hooked. He was kind enough not to tell me good girls don’t ride bad bikes, and he taught me everything he knew.”
Sawyer shook his head and took a long slug of water.
“Nice. Most women overcompensate for their lack of brute strength. But you used it to your advantage. It was like watching a poetry slam. Heat and beauty and grace at top speed. What’s the best bike you ever owned?”
“I still have it. The classic Moto Morini three and a half Vintage.”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
She leaned forward. “yes way. Bright red, classic lines, and if you ever heard the motor, you’d swear you were dreaming. Took years to restore, and people are begging to buy it all the time.” Julietta pursed her lips. “Like I’d sell to anyone who wouldn’t ride it. That would be a tragedy.”
His gaze dropped and rested on her mouth. Her next breath came at a struggle, but she dug her nails into her palm to ground herself. This man was dangerous, and she refused to mix business with pleasure. even though he had a love and respect for bikes.
“I agree. Beautiful things that are underused is a crime.”
The double innuendo stole her sanity and immediately her ni**les peaked to attention. He leaned forward and lifted his hand. Slowly, he closed the distance, obviously reaching out to touch her. Mesmerized by the hunter he was, she took a few seconds to react to his intentions.
“Don’t.” She jerked her chin away. “I thought we agreed to stick to business.”
He lifted his palm up. “Sorry. you have a smear of butter on your cheek. I was just going to wipe it off.”
She ducked her head to hide the faint blush and grabbed a napkin. Again, that distant amusement emanated from his aura. Like he cared. But didn’t. Like he was above all the messiness of emotion and drama, and she was the current plaything. “What was the issue with the contract?”
“Section B, clause three. you forgot to initial.”