“Can I buy you a drink?” someone asked behind Anastasia Hazel Forrester, and she schooled her features into an impassible mask before turning to face her interlocutor. A pair of stunning blue eyes stared back at her coupled with a dazzling smile meant to charm.

“I’m all good,” she drawled lazily, indicating her glass and dismissed the handsome stranger who had accosted her without second thoughts. She loathed the fact that the opposite sex seemed to think that every lonely woman at a bar was fair game.

“Are you sure?” he insisted with an obvious slurred Italian accent, unfazed to the fact that she was clearly not interested. Ana refrained from replying, praying that he would pick the hint.

Thankfully he did. She breathed a sigh of relief – that was her fifth overtures for the night, and she was not impressed.

She’d heard that Italians were pretty flirtatious and straight-forward but had never been a hands-on witness to the fact until today. She’d just landed in Milan the previous afternoon and was looking forward to some solitary time with herself. However, it was proving impossible to spend some quality with herself when she was constantly being approached by men. Maybe she should go back to her room?

Sighing wearily, her eyes travelled across the hotel lobby, and inexorably landed on a lonely man, and Ana did a double take. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. She sucked in a breath, gorging on the perfection of the specimen, who remained clueless to her observation as he ordered a drink from the bar.

Was he Italian? His features did not give a clue about his heritage, but he looked nothing like the other males, the tone of his skin was comparatively fairer than the traditional dark olive timbre. What differentiated him from others was the brooding enigmatic sex appeal that he

seemed to emanate without much effort. Like he didn’t have a care in the world, blatantly ignoring the come-hither looks the women surrounding him kept sending in his direction.

He was uninterested just like herself. A sense of affinity and relatability struck, as he gave the depiction of being lonely even among the crowd. Exactly like she was feeling right now.

Judging from the way he was dressed; he conveyed the message of being rich. Not that Ana cared – it was only a subconscious observation as she knew the type being constantly surrounded by them in the form of her father’s friends.

Italian men were renowned to be exceptionally gorgeous, but Ana wasn’t sure that the stranger was one of the locals. There was something about his fierce aura which beckoned to her in a peculiar fashion. It was as if she was drawn to him; her entire being tingled with awareness

and an insane restlessness.

Then, out of the blue, his gaze homed into hers, and she forgot her next breath. It was insane that she was so attracted to his physical beauty, but she felt mesmerized by a pair of exceptionally gorgeous green eyes, unable to look away even if her life depended on it and flushed when he lifted his glass in acknowledgement of her stare.

Was she being too obvious?

Even then, she couldn’t avert her gaze. There was something between them – that raw chemistry crackling through the air, seizing it with a tight tension. Anastasia could literally sense electric sparks flying across the room as green eyes watched her broodingly from the other side of the bar. He could feel her interest, she was sure of that, but it felt like he was debating with himself whether to act upon it or not.

He was the first one to look away, and Ana breathed a sigh of gratification when she was no longer captive of that intensely cogent gaze. It felt like somebody had lifted a huge burden from her shoulders.

It had been too lethal - her heart had pounded in her chest, erratic and out of control, unlike anything she’d ever come close to experience before. Hell, her heart was still jackhammering in her chest like she’d just run a marathon, her hands damp with sweat as she tried for to pick

up her glass with a casualness she was far from feeling.

Ana, what’s wrong with you sweetheart? What kind of juvenile reaction was that, she berated herself mentally taking a first hesitant sip on her Mojito. She was determinedly not even remotely interested in a fling or casual affair. That wasn’t why she was in Milan.

Keep your eyes away, she prepped herself mentally.

“Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno,” someone rambled behind her in perfect Italian, making her jump as she connected to a pair of grey eyes, which belonged to a gorgeous male who seemed to be breathing down her neck. Her smile froze in place as another admirer was coming onto

her. This time, she was irritated with those spineless idiots.

The man looked well-built; his broad square shoulders emphasized by the expensive suit he was wearing. He looked in his late twenties, his grey eyes twinkling with a besotted look, but weirdly enough, she was not in the least affected by him, but it gave her a much-needed reprieve from the stranger and erratic feelings.

“Non capisco,” she smiled awkwardly, from her very limited vocabulary. “No Italian,” she added desperately with a shrug of her shoulder. The man seemed disappointed but pressed on by sitting next to her. Ana did her best to ignore his steamy advances until the man had to

acknowledge defeat and walk away. She could not help heaving a sigh of relief when she was left alone again.

Six! But who was counting?

That diversion had achieved one purpose though. It had dismissed the sexy enigmatic stranger from his mind. It was a fluke, she dismissed carelessly – she knew herself well enough to acknowledge that crazy passion was not for her. Still, she was unable to resist another surreptitious glance towards the stranger a second time, and she hitched in a breath.

The emotions his eyes were conveying fascinated her, like he was a child who’d just been gifted his favorite present – one he couldn’t wait to unwrap. He didn’t look eager though, just completely riveted in an intense eye-lock full of purpose which sent shivers down to her spine.

She’d never been so consumed raw by a mere look; he did not even need a pick-up line to woo her. Gulping down her nervousness, she broke the eye contact, and feigned an interest in the opposite direction as avoidance tactics.

Out of her corner of her eyes, while she was still determined to pretend to ignore his morose fascination with her, she noticed him approaching her way and panic seized her. Frenzy with anticipation, dizziness followed, and her hands closed firmly around her stemmed Collins glass to overcome the feelings engulfing her. Swallowing her drink in one gulp, she closed her eyes to brace herself for the meeting, feeling completely out of depth.

When nothing happened, she opened her eyes and was surprised to discover that he was no longer in her line of vision. Acute disappointment filled her, her gaze automatically darting in every direction in his search, but he was nowhere to be found. She sighed heavily. Her imagination was working overtime again. What she couldn’t figure out was the reason why she was fixated on him when she had a panoply of males accosting her.

It was not like she was unobtrusive, but she was no extreme beauty, despite the odds saying otherwise that evening. Back in Rochester, she was after all Anastasia Forrester, the mouse.

She was not shy, not at all. Sometimes – or most of the times, she lacked enough confidence to voice out her feelings, so her acquaintances inexorably assumed that either she did not have an opinion, or she was an introvert. Which was fine with her. She was not interested in sharing her views with anyone; her half-sister Melissa was an expert in stealing the show anyway.

Ana gave herself a mental shake wondering why she was wasting her time thinking about her. Melissa already ruined her life back home, so she’d better not spoil her holiday worrying about her nemesis. Paying for her Italian trip had not been a given; a hard-earned break she had to

pay for herself because her father didn’t think she deserved one or didn’t care.

Sighing heavily, she smiled inwardly as she realized that thoughts of her family had driven the sexy stranger out of her mind. Which was a good thing. She knew better than to fantasize about someone she didn’t even know and anyway she was not interested at all.

Guys were a waste of time; she already had other problems to deal with in her personal life as it was. Her trip to Italy wasn’t an excuse for a fling – it had the purpose of unwinding just before she stepped into the professional world. Something which she’d been dreading as she would have to interact with many strangers, a prospect which terrified her.

Unlike others, friendship didn’t come easily to her, and once she attached she had a serious problem disentangling from emotional entanglements. That was why she was very careful before giving a piece of herself to anyone.

Having faced many difficulties in life, personal commitments and emotional attachments were alien to her. She derided herself for having nurtured the possibility of love at first sight. It might have happened to others, but not for her - she was frigid and emotionally unresponsive.

Most of the time, she preferred her own company to having to socialize with others where she usually found herself pretending to be someone else. Whether it was to live up to certain expectations, or to compensate for her shortcomings, she always found herself making excuses

for who she was in the company of others.

She wondered how the stranger would treat her. Would he expect her to be someone else too?

Or would he like the real Ana? The one she hid from everyone else.

With a subtle shake of her head, she tried to clear her clouded mind which seemed fixated to revert back to that damned man. Surely, she couldn’t be drunk after half a glass of Mojito?