“Or tape over your lock so he could come in whenever he wanted and rape you?” There was no keeping the edge from his voice. He still wanted to shake her. “You didn’t try the door to make certain it was latched. You knew you were in a dangerous situation and yet you didn’t take precautions.”

There was a long silence. It stretched out between them. He knew how to use silence. He lived in silence. He worked in silence. Silence gained him the upper hand because he exercised control. He tossed back the bourbon and let the fire settle in his belly, warming him when he hadn’t realized he’d been so cold.

“I don’t have any clothes.” Her gaze came back to his. She’d told him the same thing in the car. Clearly she was concerned about it.

She looked . . . vulnerable. Forlorn. That look tugged at his heartstrings. He turned back toward her and leaned one hip lazily against the table.

“That’s not a worry. We’ll get you clothes. You had the money in the coat.”

Color swept up her neck into her face. He hadn’t realized a woman could blush so much.

“I didn’t want to use your money. I didn’t know when I could pay it back.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t mean in general. I have clothes, just not here. Just not on.” She put the tip of her thumb in her mouth and bit down, her gaze not meeting his, but settling on his jaw.

“I see how that could be considered a problem.” Humor crept into his gut, easing some of the worst knots. “I’ll be right back.” He left her, knowing she couldn’t very well hop into the elevator and make her escape.

In the master bedroom, he selected one of his favorite shirts. The material was soft and would drape on her body lovingly. Because of the difference in their sizes, she would be sufficiently covered, but she still couldn’t run off when she fully realized she didn’t have a place to go.

When he returned to the room, her gaze jumped to his and then shifted away as he handed her the shirt. She took it, and the movement caused the sleeping bag to drop lower, pooling around her waist. She wore a thin T-shirt. There was a hole up by her right shoulder, allowing him to catch a glimpse of her soft skin. That little hint sent another rush of hot blood coursing through his veins.

Her breasts rose and fell beneath the material. He could see the outline of her nipples, the way they pushed hard against the restraint. She was nearly as aroused as he was. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. He could only look at her and savor the moment, knowing she belonged to him.

“This will do until we get you some clothes.”

“I can’t stay here.” She made the declaration, obviously having worked herself up in the short time he was gone.

“Just for tonight. I have several rooms, and you’ll be safe. If you’re worried, you can put a chair under the doorknob.” Not that that would ever keep him out, but he wasn’t going to tell her that—yet. “You can get a good night’s sleep and we’ll tackle the problems in the morning.”

She took a deep breath and without realizing she was doing it, rubbed the fabric of his shirt against her cheek. He recognized it as a nervous gesture, but to him it was significant. She didn’t realize it, but already she was turning to him for reassurance.

“I don’t see how this situation can be resolved,” Francesca said. “I can’t go back there, but I can’t afford anything else.”

“A situation can always be resolved. You’re not going back there and we’ll figure it out in the morning. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to change out of the sleeping bag and into my shirt.”

He allowed a trace of amusement to enter his voice. She rewarded him with a faint smile.

“I don’t know, Stefano. This sleeping bag is pretty chic. The latest rage.”

“I’ll admit, on you, it looks pretty good, but I don’t think you can walk around—or run from me like you’d prefer.”

Her smile widened. Reached her eyes. Lit them so they glittered like gems. “I think I’m so exhausted that I’ll kick off my running shoes for the night.” The smile faded. “Honestly, Stefano, thank you for rescuing me.”

His gut clenched hotly. “You’re very welcome. Do me a favor and next time give me the benefit of the doubt.”

“So you think there will be a next time?”

“Without a doubt.” His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen to identify the caller. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment . . .” He turned his back on Francesca and made for the doorway. “Tell me, Vittorio.” He listened to the explanation Joanna had given to his brother and anger began to swirl like a dark, murderous shadow in his belly.