“Perhaps not.”
“Then, how—”
Anna gave him her best look of wide-eyed innocence.
“Roman Aristocrat Steals Land from Helpless Grandmother,” she said sweetly, and batted her lashes. “Maybe they can work the words puppies and kittens into that headline, too.”
“You left something out. Sicilian Citizen Protects Land from Theft by American Hoodlum.” Draco flashed a smug smile. “Or don’t you like that wording?”
“You’re no more Sicilian than I am!”
“My ancestors settled in Sicily five hundred years ago.”
“You mean they invaded it five hundred years ago. The Orsinis were already there.”
“I asked you a question. What do you want?”
“And I answered it. I want the land. If you think my client will run from a newspaper calling him a gangster …” Anna showed her teeth in a brilliant smile. “Trust me, Valenti. It won’t be the first time.”
“Do not address me that way,” Draco said, hating himself for sounding ridiculous, hating the woman for pushing him to it. “As for headlines …” He shrugged. “They come and go.”
She smiled. It was the kind of smile that made him want to shoot to his feet and toss her out of his office …
Or take her in his arms and remind her of just how easily he could change her cold contempt to hot desire.
“The thing is, oh powerful prince, we love that kind of stuff in the States. We give it all our attention. Page Six of the Post. People. US. The Star. All those juicy tabloids, the even juicier internet blogs. The cable news channels.”
“You’re pushing your luck again,” he said in a soft voice.
She knew she was, but it was too late to back down now.
“Even the real newspapers—the New York Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, the Washington Post—will love this.” Anna leaned closer. “See, one of the few things I had time to do was look you up on Google. I know you’re not just a prince, stealing money from the peasants—”
“A gangster’s legal mouthpiece calling me a thief?” Draco leaned back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest and laughed.
“You also control a huge financial empire.”
His laughter ended. A look of cold determination took its place as he rose to his feet
“If you have a point, get to it.”
“Oh, I do,” Anna said. She paused for effect, as if this were a grungy New York City courtroom instead of an elegant office. “How do you think a company like yours would stand up to such a scandal in today’s financial climate?”
His face darkened.
“How dare you threaten me? Who the hell are you?”
Anna dug into her pocket, took out a small leather case and extracted a business card. Nonchalantly she plucked a pen from his desk, scribbled the name of her hotel on the back, then flipped the card at him. He caught it, read the black engraving and looked at her through narrowed eyes.
“Anna Orsini,” he said softly. “Well, well, well.”
“That’s me,” Anna said cheerfully. “Anna Orsini. Cesare’s daughter.” Her voice became cold and flat. “In other words, a full-blooded member of the Orsini famiglia. I urge you to keep that in mind.”
It seemed the right line, the closing line, especially when your enemy looked as if he might spring across the desk and throttle you …
Especially when your own heart was banging so hard you were afraid it might leap from your chest.
Anna pivoted on her heel, picked up her briefcase and walked out.