Chapter [2]

Chapter 2

Noah Blanco.

I was on the flight back to Italy, my homeland, the place where I had spent the majority of my life. It was always a mix of emotions whenever I returned. Italy was rich in memories, both good and bad, and no matter how many times I traveled, each trip brought a fresh wave of nostalgia. The scent of the air, the taste of the food, the sounds of the streets—all of it wrapped around me like a comforting yet bittersweet embrace. This time, however, felt different. I had a strong urge to check on my airlines, a routine I performed monthly, sometimes even more frequently. But today, something unusual had occurred, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something peculiar about it. Was it good? Bad? Or simply a figment of my imagination?

As I sat in the luxurious cabin of the plane, talking with the president of the airline, I felt the familiar rush of business conversations. Yes, as a busy man like me, I rarely had time to indulge in lengthy discussions, so I often opted for these meetings mid-flight. The plush seats and the soft hum of the engines usually provided a perfect backdrop for negotiations and deals. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and yet, my instincts told me to dig deeper.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a strikingly beautiful girl erupted with a loud complaint about the noise we were making. Her words cut through the air like a knife, and I was taken aback. Who was she to scold me? It was as if she had no idea who I was. I quickly assessed her—she didn't look Italian, and with her boldness, she was clearly out of her depth. It was rather rude and foolish of her to jump into a quarrel without understanding the context. Who did she think she was, barging into my world like that?

Even without knowing my background, it should have been evident to her that I exuded an air of wealth and power. I mean, it was as obvious as day. My tailored suit, my confident demeanor—it all screamed success. Therefore, it was utterly bizarre that she had the audacity to throw water in my face without a hint of fear or hesitation. Instead of flinching, she smirked at me, her confidence almost infuriatingly captivating.

I was momentarily speechless, and yet, I found myself oddly impressed. I should have reprimanded her or at least given her a piece of my mind. Perhaps I should have slapped her for her insolence or even choked her until she gasped for forgiveness. But instead, I found myself admiring her beauty.

Her features were simply breathtaking—angelic and hot in a way that made my heart race. It was a combination I had never encountered before, and her audacity only added to her allure. In that moment, she had unwittingly committed an unforgettable mistake; she had insulted me. But oddly enough, it was this very insult that intrigued me.

It was remarkable; even men had never dared to confront me like that. Yet here she was, shocking me with her boldness, and then, as quickly as she had appeared, she returned to her seat, dismissing me entirely. Was she shy? Embarrassed? It was hard to tell. Just moments before, she had been yelling at me, and now she seemed lost in her own world, her fingers toying with her long hair, her cheeks flushed crimson as if she had daydreams of something more intimate.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. Perhaps I had a dirty mind, but I often found myself hitting the nail on the head when it came to these things.

The conversation about business faded into the background as I found myself captivated by her. My gaze was fixed on her, and I was eager to see what she would do next. I longed to stand up, to walk over to her, and sit beside her, but something held me back. Perhaps it was the thought that she might take the initiative; after all, I was not accustomed to pursuing women. Usually, they were the ones who chased me, pleading for my attention.

Hours passed, and the flight was uneventful. When we finally landed, it was as though she had vanished into thin air. I asked the airline manager to track her down, which was a simple task since she was a foreigner and had booked her ticket using her passport. I was determined to find her again and discover what had driven her to confront me in such a bold manner.

Once I got into the limo, I headed straight to the grand hotel I owned. Fate was on my side because, as luck would have it, I encountered her once more. This time, she was in a heated argument with the receptionist, her frustration palpable. Her voice rose above the murmur of the hotel lobby, and I could see the fire in her eyes.

I approached her, placing my arms on the counter. "Hey, you. Is there no other way to express yourself rather than yelling? Can’t you converse like a civilized person?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge her reaction. But she dismissed me entirely, not even bothering to look my way. I felt a surge of humiliation and nudged her shoulder lightly. To my surprise, she slapped my hand away.

She turned to face me, crossing her arms defiantly. "Why do you keep showing up everywhere I go? Don’t you have anything better to do than bother a beautiful woman like me?" she huffed, her tone sharp yet oddly alluring.

Oh, how I wanted to retort! Part of me wanted to slap her mouth shut, but an even wilder part of me craved a passionate kiss. What a twisted mind I had!

In my head, I smirked, thinking, “No, sexy girl. I usually just have my way with beautiful women like you.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I should be asking you the same. Why are you everywhere I own?"

Her eyebrows knitted together, and she looked at me as if I were the most ridiculous person she had ever encountered. "Really? Do you think you own Italy or something?" she scoffed, a small snort escaping her lips. I found that surprisingly cute and sexy, but only in a context I could appreciate fully.

"I do, actually. Seventy percent of Italy is mine," I replied, unable to resist the urge to boast. The words rolled off my tongue with an air of arrogance, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction.

She shot me a look of disbelief. "Please, shut the f'ck up. I’m not interested in you. I came here because I reserved a room, and now the receptionist is telling me there are no vacancies! I’m already mad enough to squeeze your balls and smash this hotel over your pretty head," she exclaimed, turning her attention back to the receptionist as if I were invisible. Did she really not realize who she was speaking to? Perhaps she was simply foolish—though I found that hard to believe. No woman had ever rejected me so brazenly before.

I slammed my hand on the counter out of frustration. "Hey, listen to me. I’m uninterested in you too. Good luck with your reservation," I said, stepping back, but she muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t quite catch.

“Well, I guess I’ll just go look for a room in another hotel,” she said, dragging her bags away.

Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind, and impulsively, I called out, "Wait! You could stay here tonight in my suite." What was I thinking? She might misinterpret my offer as an attempt to seduce her.

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow at me. "Oh, great. What about you?" Her tone was challenging, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

There was something about her gaze that made me tremble. Sometimes she appeared shy, and other times she was utterly unashamed. I stared at her, momentarily lost for words, captivated by her presence.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Well, I guess you could stay with me tonight until you find me an empty room. But don’t you dare touch me, or I will cut off your precious member," she warned, her tone rude and arrogant. Yet, I could barely suppress my laughter at her audacity.

"I promise I won’t touch you. The suite is quite spacious—two bathrooms and two beds. Don’t even dream of it," I replied, offering her a sheepish smile, trying to lighten the mood.

She eyed me up and down, and then, surprisingly, she pushed her bags toward me. "Fine, carry these bags to your suite. I’ll follow you. I’m exhausted because your Italian airline was too noisy and uncomfortable. It felt more like a public bus than a plane," she commanded, her eyes daring me to refuse. Did she really think I was her servant?

My staff stood frozen, eyes wide, likely wondering if I was going to lose my temper. I clenched my fists, my anger simmering just below the surface. "Bring those bags to my suite now! Why are you all staring like idiots?!" I yelled at my men, frustration boiling over.

She shook her head with a smirk. "You know, you should calm down, or you’ll die of a heart attack at a young age. Or maybe your nerves will just explode," she said, her voice dripping with mock concern.

I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t just thrown her out or yelled at her to leave, yet here I was, offering her my suite. No other woman had ever been allowed to step foot in that room. My relationships usually took place in other rooms or at my various properties, but this was different. It felt like I was stepping into uncharted territory, and I was both excited and apprehensive.

I walked toward the elevator, and she followed closely behind. It was bizarre how easily she had agreed to stay with a stranger. I still didn’t even know her name, yet here I was, inviting her into my life.

As we stepped into the elevator, my men trailed behind, and she leaned closer, inhaling the scent of my cologne.

"What? Do you actually like my perfume?" I asked, a hint of arrogance creeping into my voice.

She scrunched her nose, making a face. "Actually, you need to take a bath. You stink! You’re sweating!"

God! I wanted to pull her cheeky tongue out of her mouth! Yet, I couldn’t help but feel an odd thrill at the thought of the challenge she presented. This woman was unlike anyone I’d ever met, and she was certainly making my heart race in a way I hadn’t expected.

As the elevator ascended, the tension hung thick in the air. I could feel the sparks between us, a mixture of annoyance and attraction that was both exhilarating and confusing. What was it about her that captivated me so? I had dealt with countless women, and yet, she was different. There was a fire in her that I couldn't ignore, a challenge I found myself eager to accept.

When the doors slid open, I stepped out, leading the way to my suite. She followed, a determined look on her face, as if she were ready to face whatever came next. I couldn't help but admire her resolve. As we entered the suite, I gestured for her to sit down, but she remained standing, her posture defiant.

"Well, here we are. Make yourself at home," I said, trying to sound casual. But inside, I was anything but calm. The suite was grand, a mix of modern luxury and classic Italian charm. It was a space I usually kept private, and now it felt like it had been invaded by this wild spirit who had thrown my world into disarray.

She took a moment to scan her surroundings, her eyes wide with surprise. "This is your suite? It’s huge! How many people do you normally entertain here?" she asked, her tone teasing, as if she were trying to provoke me further.

"Only the elite," I replied, a smirk tugging at my lips.

"Well, I’m not impressed," she shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Not even a little?" I challenged, leaning back against the plush sofa.

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the corners of her mouth twitching. "Okay, maybe a bit. But don’t get used to it. I’m still mad at you," she said, her voice lightening slightly.

"Good to know," I replied, my heart racing.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere shifted, the initial tension giving way to a strange camaraderie. We talked, bantered, and despite our rocky start, I found myself drawn to her even more. There was something undeniably intoxicating about her spirit, and I was beginning to realize that this encounter might be the most interesting of my life.