Once she was seated, he slipped into his chair opposite her and smiled—one of his amazing hot smiles, which sent her temperature soaring. She had to remind herself to stay on track because he tended to fry her brain.

“Sadly, there was a little accident with your clothes. Ricco said they didn’t survive, so of course, since they were entrusted to our care, the family provided you with new ones. By the time you get off work, we will have jeans and tees for more casual wear. There wasn’t enough time last night.”

She took a sip of coffee because she desperately needed the caffeine to deal with his obvious bull. “My clothes met with an accident?”

He nodded. “Sadly.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave him her best scowl. “Did your coat manage to make it back intact?”

He nodded. Sober. His handsome features suspiciously innocent. “Yes. I was relieved. My brother saved my coat, but couldn’t quite grab your duffel bag. It floated right down the river.”

“Oh. My. God. You are so full of it, Stefano.” Francesca took a bite of scrambled eggs and shook her head.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m merely repeating what Ricco told me. I can’t imagine that he would lie.”

She had to work at not laughing. “Right.”

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I trust you slept better last night after the hot chocolate. Emmanuelle swears it always works for her.”

She nodded. “I did. But we’re not finished with the clothes discussion. How did you manage to get everything in the middle of the night?”

He shrugged. “Amo Fausti, the owner of the boutique, is a good friend of mine. He opened the store immediately when I told him we’d accidentally lost your clothes.”

“In the middle of the night? You just called him and he opened the store?” Coffee seemed more important than food. She clearly needed to stay sharp around him. He was totally unapologetic.

“He’s a friend. You’ve already become one of his favorites, so he was happy to do so.”

That pleased her because Lucia and Amo were definitely favorites of hers. “And the clothes got into my room, how?”

Again he shrugged. “I knew you would need them in the morning. I put them away myself.”

While she was sleeping. She sighed. “As much as I love the clothes, I can’t accept them.”

He smirked. She would have resorted to violence but even his smirk was sexy and instead she just stared at him, astonished that a man could look as good as he did. It took a few moments for the Stefano spell to ease. She licked her lips and downed the orange juice. It was superb. Like his penthouse. Like the clothes. Like him.

“I suppose you could just wear my shirt to work. I like the idea of you wearing my shirt all day, but Pietro might object. On the other hand, you look . . . sexy in it, and that might draw in even more customers when word gets out. Although, if I’m being strictly honest, I’m not certain I want other men seeing you in just my shirt.”

“I can see that sparring with you requires at least two cups of coffee.”

“We’re responsible for the loss of your clothes. Of course we’d replace them. Change the subject.”

“Just like that.”

“Bambina.”

The way he said that one little word, as if it was an endearment, but reprimanded her, melted her insides. It was the tone of his voice. She liked that he called her baby or sweetheart and sometimes even beautiful. The way he focused so completely on her made her feel special. The appreciation in his eyes made her feel beautiful. She knew she wasn’t going to win the argument. Her clothes were gone and he’d bought her new ones—new, exquisite clothing that she never could have afforded on her own. Never. Not in her lifetime.

“And the makeup and other things in my bathroom?”

“Everything was lost.” He shrugged, dismissing the subject. “I’ll take you to work this morning. If you leave the store, text me.”

“Stefano, why in the world would I do that?” As if she could. She didn’t have a cell phone. She’d already told him that. It wasn’t like she had the money to rush out and get one, let alone pay for a plan.

His eyes darkened to a stormy blue. Pinned her. The air in the room thickened with heat. His heat. “Because I asked you to.”

She supposed that was a good enough answer when she was sitting in his penthouse, eating his food, wearing clothes he bought and under his protection. “I can’t.” When his head jerked up and the room got even scarier, she held up her hand. “I said ‘can’t’, not won’t. Remember? I don’t own a cell phone. I told you I didn’t have one.” She could see him struggle for control.