Romancing the Alpha Read online

  She should be grateful, surrounded by all the nice things, plus everyone was being polite and attentive to her. But, she’d never even stepped into one of these stores before. Except for the vintage designer pieces handed down to her by her mother and grandmother, she never spent more than $200 on clothes, and even then it seemed like such a splurge. Her heart stopped when she inspected one of the price tags on a little black dress, her eyes going wide at all the zeroes.

  “Signorina,” the lovely sales assistant, Valeria said, catching her attention. “Would you like to see anything?” She gestured to the purses behind her in the glass case. “Signore Anderson’s assistant said that you should please feel free to choose any item in the store and we’ll have it delivered to your hotel.”

  Frankie wondered if that was rich-person code for ‘your sugar daddy will pick up the bill’ and she suddenly had a sick feeling in her stomach.

  “Are you alright?” Valeria asked, concerned. “We also have some items from the new collection, which won’t be available to the public until next week, but I’m happy to let you have them now, especially since Signore Anderson is such a loyal client.”

  “Loyal client?” she looked around at all the beautiful things. Dresses, purses, shoes. The pit in her stomach got bigger. “Actually, I’m feeling ill,” she declared. “Can I have some still water, please?” She felt dizzy and it was suddenly hard to breathe, like the walls were closing in her.

  “Of course,” she turned to another sales assistant, standing behind them. “Antonia, can you please bring Signorina Richardson some water, per favore?”

  “It’s Muccino,” she corrected. “My name is Francesca Muccino.”

  Valeria’s brows knitted. “No, Mr. Anderson’s assistant was quite explicit in his instructions. He said we were to assist a Miss…” She looked at the piece of paper in her hand. “Miss Katherine Richardson. That’s you, isn’t it?”

  The edges of Frankie’s vision seemed to blur and anger rose in her, just as her cheeks burned in mortification. She stood up and grabbed her purse. “No, it is not,” she said before she walked out, leaving Valeria to stare after her, slack-jawed.

  Frankie pushed at the heavy glass and metal doors with all her might, wishing she could fling it open and smash it into a million pieces. There was only one other time she’d been humiliated worse than this in her entire life, and she thought she would have been smarter. Of course this is what he did. He sent his women off on shopping sprees, buying off their affection. She wondered if Katherine Richardson was off in the boutique next door and Grant had mixed up their names.

  She stalked down Via Condotti, ignoring the calls of her driver. Grant Anderson could go to hell; she would not take another cent from him.

  ***

  The walk back to the St. Regis was long, but Frankie bit her pride and went on foot all the way back. The blisters on her feet will probably kill her in the morning, but she didn’t care. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she swallowed them and instead channeled the hurt into rage. She stormed into the suite, flung her carry-on onto the bed and began to pack her meager things.

  Oh god, did she have enough money to get a one-way ticket home? Who cares. She had her credit card with her, she could always put it on that. It was going to cost a fortune to get home last minute, but what was she supposed to do? She would rather be in debt than stay here another minute. Angrily, she shut the carry-on, and hoisted it off the bed. She would find a way home and forget that Grant Anderson ever existed.

  “Frankie, I’m back early,” Grant called as he entered the suite.

  Speak of the devil.

  “What are you doing?” he asked as he walked into their room, staring at her carry-on in her hand.

  “I’m going home!” she screamed at him.

  “Home? What happened?”

  “What happened?” she stopped in front of him. “What happened? You lying, cheating scumbag!” She let out a string of curses in Italian, whipping past him, but never made it more than a foot away. Grant’s strong arm caught her by the waist and held her back.

  “What the hell? Frankie stop it!” he raised his voice, but struggled to keep her firmly planted next to him as she tried to wiggle away. “For god’s sake, talk to me! What did I do?”

  Rage burned through Frankie. She spun around and slapped at his hands, then backed away. “You thought you could hide all your other women from me! Well, apparently you can’t juggle all of us! Your assistant must have mixed us up, because the store your driver took me to was expecting Katherine Richardson instead!”

  “What are you talking about? And why would they be expecting Katherine?”

  “So you do know her! Is she your side piece? Or…oh my god, am I the side piece?” She grabbed the first thing she could - a mantel clock - and flung it at Grant. He easily ducked out of the way, but the piece smashed against the wall behind him.

  Grant’s eyes blazed with anger and he stalked towards her, his face determined. He grabbed her wrists and forced her to sit down on the couch next time him. “For Christ’s sake, Frankie, talk to me! What’s gotten you so angry?”

  “You!”

  “What did I do?” he asked, confused.

  “You sent me to that boutique, why, to buy me off? To pay me for sleeping with you? And then they started calling me Ms. Richardson and talking about what a loyal client you are! Tell me Grant, just how many women do you bring to Rome on shopping sprees, because it sounds like you have a fucking loyalty card that gets stamped each time one of your women walks through their doors!”

  Grant’s brows furrowed, and then his eyes widened. “Fuck. Dammnit, Jared.” He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hands. “I…I know this looks bad, Frankie, but please,” he took her hands in his. “There’s only you, ok? It’s only been you! I haven’t even slept with any other woman since I scented you at the ball! I couldn’t, not when all I wanted was you.”

  “What?” Frankie’s heart slammed into her chest. “What are you saying?”

  “Look…I’ll admit it, I’ve sent some women I’ve been with on shopping sprees before. It was just easier to break things off that way. Some even expected it,” he said bitterly. “But that’s not what I was trying to do here. I just…I asked my admin, Jared, to take care of you and make sure you were able to pick up something to wear for the dinner tonight with Alessandro. Then I asked him to schedule a meeting with my lawyer, Katherine Richardson as soon as possible. It was about 3 a.m. in New York when I called him.” His eyes widened in realization. “Shit. I woke him up in the middle of the night and he…he probably mixed up his emails or something. I’m sorry, Frankie,” he sighed. “But I swear to you, there’s no one else. No one.”

  Frankie could hear the sincerity and truth in Grant’s voice, and read it in his eyes. If anything, she was shocked by his earlier confession, that even though they hadn’t met face-to-face, he wanted only her. “I…I’m sorry too,” she put her hands in her face. “I should have asked you first.”

  “I understand,” Grant soothed, pulling her into his arms. “I would never do that to you.”

  She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent, her anger dissipating. “I…it’s ok.”

  “Look, I’m sorry for having to leave you alone. This wouldn’t have happened if I just stayed with you. Let me make it up to you,” he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll take you out now. We’ll do whatever you want, ok?”

  Frankie looked up at him. “Whatever I want?”

  “Yes,” he gave her nose a quick peck. “Anything you want to do.”

  ***

  Grant thought there were very few things that could frighten him, especially in his adult life. However, sitting behind Frankie as she navigated the Vespa through the streets of Rome truly terrified him.

  She cackled with delight as she zoomed past cars and trucks, winding around the narrow streets of the Eternal City. The little minx probably did it on purpose so he would cling to her tighter
, and so she could scent the terror from him.

  Frankie wanted to go sightseeing, but they were going to do it her way. She told him about her month-long trip to Italy when she was nineteen, including the two weeks she spent in Rome. She wanted to show him all her favorite spots, so they rented a Vespa. Grant confessed that he had never toured Rome despite having visited several times. So, she took him around, going to the Colosseum, Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, and the Vatican City.

  She also wanted to go shopping, so they walked around Via Del Corso, and Frankie haggled like a pro to get various trinkets and souvenirs for her family. Grant wanted to buy her something nice at one of the shops, but she insisted she only wanted a kitschy little keychain that said “Caesar is my Rome Boy”, which she also haggled down to an acceptable price before she even let him open his wallet. She strapped the keychain to her set of house keys, gave him a kiss and said she’d treasure it forever. She did allow him one splurge, a beautiful wool coat for Nonna Gianna, which would certainly make the old lady love Grant more.

  “Where are we?” Grant asked as they pulled up to a small side street not far from the Vatican City. It was a busy pedestrian street, with restaurants and shops lining the sides. People were walking from shop to shop, others sitting and having lunch, just enjoying the beautiful spring day.

  “This is where I stayed when I was here,” Frankie parked the Vespa on the side and hopped off. “I was running out of money, but I had two more weeks before I had to go home. I was contemplating going home, but I met this nice Italian man, Angelo, who owned a bakery. I went into his shop because it was raining and I had nowhere to go.”

  She took his hand, laced her fingers with his, led him down the cobblestoned street and continued her story. “I must have looked really terrible, because he asked me if I was ok and I broke down and told him I didn’t have a place to stay. He was really nice and offered me a spare room in the apartment above his bakery. I helped him make bread in the morning in exchange for room and a couple meals.”

  Her eyes scanned the street as they neared the other side. “There it is!” She pointed to the unassuming shop near the corner. The old, wooden signboard above the door read “Panifico” and there was a slight, white-haired old man outside, wearing an apron and sweeping the front. He was frowning at the cafe tables set up outside the restaurant next door and at another man standing next to them.

  The broad, dark-haired man wore a suit and was holding menus and calling out to tourists walking by, enticing them to come and eat at his restaurant. The white-haired man dropped his broom and walked over to the man, pointing his fingers at the table. The man in the suit started pointing his back at the white-haired man, and soon, they were shouting at each other in Italian.

  Frankie rolled her eyes and picked up her pace, approaching the two men. Grant’s protective instincts kicked in, trying to block Frankie, but she pushed him gently aside, put her fingers to her lips and let out a loud whistle.

  “Angelo! Massimo!” she shouted, and then began to speak in rapid-fast Italian.

  The two men stopped fighting, looked towards them and their faces changed from anger to recognition, and then shock.

  “Francesca?” the white-haired man said.

  Frankie ran over to both men, and they took turns hugging and kissing her on the cheeks. It seemed they had forgotten their fight, and instead, welcomed her warmly.

  Grant stood and watched them for a few minutes as the three of them spoke in Italian, gesturing and laughing. Finally, Frankie looked over at him and called him over.

  The two men looking at him curiously. The dark-haired man said something to Frankie and she blushed. “Grant, I want to introduce you to Angelo and Massimo,” she then turned to the two men and said something in Italian, and they broke into smiles.

  Grant held out his hand, introduce himself, but both men kissed him on the cheeks and pulled him into a hug, talking with gusto, even though Grant didn’t speak a word of Italian.

  “Sorry, they don’t speak a lot of English,” Frankie explained. “But I’ll do my best to translate, ok? Massimo wants us to have some wine at his restaurant, and Angelo will bring us some bread.”

  “Thank you…uh, grazie,” he said to the two men, who nodded and enthusiastically clapped him on his back. Massimo led them to one of the cafe tables and called over a waiter to serve them some water.

  The two men disappeared into their respective establishments and Frankie shook her head. “Sorry about that, but those two will never change. Every day Angelo fights Massimo over the placement of his tables, claiming they’re blocking the door to his bakery and Massimo says its payback because Angelo overcharges him for bread and that he’ll never order from him again,” she took a sip of her water. “And then by evening time, they’re best friends again.”

  “So, you lived here for two weeks?” Grant asked.

  She nodded and pointed her chin at the apartment above the bakery. The wooden shutters were open, and on the windowsill were pots of brightly-colored flowers. “Right there. It was basically a closet in the interior, but cozy. And Angelo was very kind to me. Massimo took a liking to me too, and would offer me meals from his kitchen.”

  Massimo came out of the restaurant, brandishing a plate of Caprese salad and a bottle of wine, talking animatedly on the phone. He looked at Frankie, chatting with her and into the phone at the same time. Her eyes danced with laughter and she nodded at something he said.

  “What is it?” Grant asked, taking a sip of the wine.

  “Oh! That was Massimo’s son, Andrea. Massimo called him up and told him I was here, and he wanted to know if it was ok if he stopped by since he lives about a block away,” Frankie avoided his eyes. “I said yes. He’s a…friend.”

  “A friend?” Grant asked, and he a strange felt a pang of jealousy at the way she said the word.

  Frankie blushed. “Ok, full disclosure…I had a big crush on him, ok? Don’t laugh!”

  “I’m not laughing,” Grant frowned, not really looking forward to meeting a man that made her blush so prettily.

  “No, I mean…it’s silly!” she put a hand over his soothingly. “I was nineteen and he was like, this typical Italian guy who would tease and flirt with me. I swear, nothing happened between us!”

  Grant gritted his teeth, but then relaxed and took Frankie’s hand. “If you say so.”

  “Look, there he is!” Frankie pointed behind him to the approaching Vespa. The motorcycle stopped right in front of them, and the man hopped off the seat with ease.

  “Francesca!” his voice boomed as he called to Frankie. He was tall, broad-shouldered and handsome in that typical Italian way. Perfect white teeth, tanned skin, and probably shampoo-commercial worth hair under his helmet. She laughed and stood up, walking over to greet the man.

  Grant clenched his fists, fighting the urge to stand up and shove his handsome face into the cobblestones. He stopped short, however, when he looked down at what was strapped to the man’s chest.

  “Andrea…madre de dio!” Frankie laughed as she looked at his “package” and giggled. “Is this yours?”

  “Ah yes, my beautiful bambino!” Andrea unstrapped the blonde-haired, rosy-cheeked baby from the carrier on his chest. He raised it up, making the baby giggle, and kissed him on the cheek. “Frankie, this is my son, Piero,” he handed the baby to Frankie and she eagerly took him, her eyes wide with surprise. She kissed the baby’s cheek and in return, small fists wrapped in her hair, tugging as he laughed.

  Grant felt a different pang; not jealousy, but longing. Watching Frankie hold and cuddle the baby made something in his heart swell and he imagined her doing the same to a baby with dark hair and green eyes.

  Frankie suddenly looked at him, her head cocked as she placed the baby on her hip. “Are you ok?” she asked as she approached him.

  “Yes, sorry, was thinking of something,” he deflected and stood up to greet Andrea.

  Frankie introduced then and the other man
greeted him warmly, kissing both cheeks and clapping him on the back. “Finally, I get to meet your boyfriend!”

  “He’s not my boyfriend…he’s a friend,” Frankie said, swatting him playfully on the arm.

  Andrea winked at him knowingly. “Nice to meet you, not-boyfriend of Francesca,” he held out his hand. “Andrea Ricci.”

  Grant shook it, squeezing a tad stronger than he meant to (he chalked it up to Lycan strength) and introduced himself. “Grant Anderson.”

  All three all sat down and Massimo, and even Angelo joined them as they talked and laughed, with Frankie or Andrea doing their best to include Grant in the conversation, translating here and there. They drank more wine, or at least the men did. Frankie had coffee instead, since she was driving them back to the hotel.

  “We really must go,” Frankie declared. “We have an appointment tonight, I really wish we could stay.”

  Andrea shook his head. “That’s too bad. And you’re leaving tomorrow?” Frankie nodded. “Ah, you won’t be able to meet my Graziella,” he said, referring to his wife.

  “Next, time, I promise,” she said. “I have your email now and I’ll send you a message next time I’m in town.”

  Their goodbyes took longer than expected, but finally, they were on their way back to the hotel. As Grant held on tightly to Frankie’s waist and buried his nose in her hair to breathe in her scent, there was a feeling in his middle that he had never felt before, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t the wine.

  ***

  “Thank you for inviting us to dinner, Alpha,” Grant greeted as they entered Count Alessandro di Cavour’s splendid villa just outside the main city center. He placed a hand on Frankie’s lower back as he guided her inside.

  “Of course, Grant, I was glad you both could make it, despite your tight schedule,” Alessandro shook his hands and then turned to Frankie. “Ah, Francesca! I think you’ve only grown more beautiful these last years!”