by J. L. Leslie
“Did you come to place an order?” I ask, trying to sound professional.
“Actually, I placed one this morning. I came to pay the invoice.”
“Oh, we usually email those,” I say.
“I know.”
I go over to the computer and click on the icon for orders. I look over at him and ask, “What name is it under?”
“HLS.” He smirks.
Go figure. I type it in and click on his order. I give him the total and he pulls a platinum card out of his wallet. This is probably the first time I’ve ever seen one, but I keep my composure as I run it and watch him scribble his name on the receipt. I peek at it and roll my eyes at his messy writing.
“That’s worse than a doctor’s signature,” I say, and he chuckles. “You should really work on that.”
“I’ll consider it,” he replies. “If you’ll consider going to dinner with me.”
“We absolutely do dinners,” I reply. “Here’s our menu if you want to take a look, or we can recommend something.”
“I think you misunderstood, Frankie. I don’t want to order from you, I want to take you to dinner,” he explains.
Okay, yeah, I completely misunderstood that. Don’t know how that happened. Has it been so long since a man asked me out on a date that I don’t recall what it sounds like?
“Why would you ask me to dinner?” I ask, and he frowns a bit. “I mean, you were pretty clear this morning. It was fun, but that was it, right? Or did I misunderstand that, too?”
“It was fun, la mia fiamma.” He leans forward. “Ho bisogno di sentirti urlare di nuovo li mio nome.”
I shake my head, smiling. “I don’t know what that means.”
He smiles back at me, that damn breathtaking, panty-dropping smile. God almighty, the things I imagine he can do with that mouth. The things I want him to do with that mouth. I instantly wonder if he was just telling me what he would do to me with that mouth?
“Just let me know when and where.”
“What about my place?” he suggests, catching me off guard.
“Oh, um, well, sure. Your place is perfect.”
“Great,” he replies. “I’ll have my assistant call you to schedule the date and time.”
“You’re assistant? Is this a business meeting or a date?” I say, only half-joking.
“I’ll call.”
I’m unable to resist finding out why he showed up in person when I wrote my number down. “You could’ve just called today.”
He looks over his shoulder. “Then, I wouldn’t have been able to see you.”
Ten
Havoc
I’m a despicable human being. Do I give a shit? Hell fucking no I don’t. I’ve set my sights on Frankie Conn and I will have her. Consequences be damned.
I played it cool, letting her know I wanted to see her in person. In actuality, I wanted to see if her sister ran back and told her the truth. To find out if she told her to stay as far away from me as possible. That I’m a liar and a cheat. It doesn’t appear that she did. Yet.
In all honesty, I could’ve called her, but I don’t even call my fiancée. The only person on this Earth that I call is my uncle. The man gives me shit if I don’t talk to him at least once a week. He’s the only family I have left on my madre’s side, and my father’s family isn’t exactly close. They only come around when they want something, and it only took a few times of him turning them away for them to stop asking him for money.
My father has always said he can’t stand a man who won’t work for a living. That a man who will ask for a handout is a man who will steal from you, rob you blind when you aren’t looking.
I can’t recall a time he’s ever loaned a family member money. I can’t recall a time he’s ever loaned me money. A lot of people think I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth and it’s true that I was born into a rich family, but my asshole of a father never gave me a damn thing I didn’t earn.
I busted my ass in school, and I can guarantee he never bought a single grade of mine. I started in the damn mailroom at HLS and had to work my way up the exact same way everyone else has, paying back every damn dime of my college tuition.
My father doesn’t believe in giving out any freebies, except of course, when it comes to the women he’s married. I suppose they earn their way by fucking him. Simply living in the house with him should earn them a nice living. He’s strung along his latest girlfriend for two years with the promise of a diamond on her finger. I know for a fact that he has no intention of finalizing marriage number five.
I’m not saying I don’t care for my father, but love isn’t something he taught me. My madre is the one who did that, and she died when I was ten years old. She wasn’t around long enough to teach me how to do it properly.
Thinking of the woman who left my life far too soon, I pick up my phone and call my uncle. He answers on the second ring.
“If it isn’t my favorite nipote,” he says in greeting.
“I’m your only nephew.”
“I suppose you’ll have to suffice as my favorite then, won’t you?” he jokes. “How was the engagement party?”
“You would’ve known had you shown up.”
“And indulge in your farce? Non la penso cosi,” he replies with a chuckle.
My uncle, Giovanni, has made his position clear on my engagement to Anneliese. He thinks I’m a complete idiot for marrying her when I don’t love her. He was always against my mother’s marriage to my father. He thought she should marry an Italian man, and even explained to her there was no shortage of Italians in America, but she went against his wishes and married my father instead.
Giovanni is adamant that I don’t follow in her footsteps and make the same mistake. It’s no secret my mother did not exactly marry for love. She may have loved my father in her own way, but he did not love her. He loved the idea of her. She was beautiful and exotic, a poor waitress for him to rescue, and marrying her solidified his stake on the land she owned in Italy.
Of course, my mother wasn’t the dimwit my father thought her to be. She never signed the land over to him, and when she passed away, she left it to me in her will.
“You must marry for amore,” Giovanni says.
It doesn’t matter to him that I’ll be acquiring a lucrative business of successful hotel chains or that it’s a way for me to break out on my own. He doesn’t think I should bind myself to Anneliese for any reason unless I’m madly in love with her, and he sure as shit doesn’t believe I’m not capable of that.
“Once I’ve completely taken over the business and fulfilled my end of the marriage, I’ll divorce her. Prenup requires five years,” I explain. “I can handle five years.”
I’ve told myself this many times, almost in an attempt to convince myself that I can do this. It’s a set of rings, and a piece of paper. It means nothing to either of us. It’s only now, that everything is becoming more official, only now that I’ve met Frankie, that I’m second-guessing my decision.
“Just five years of your life, Nipote.”
“I regret calling you, Gio,” I say, rolling my eyes, turning onto my street.
“Don’t call next time. Drive over here.”
I tell him goodbye and disconnect the call. Five years. I’m signing my life away to Anneliese for five years. In my eyes, that gives me a free pass to be a selfish son of bitch until that day comes and I can honestly say, that I’ve learned from the best.
Eleven
Frankie
Claire eyes my outfit with the same look she had on her face when she eyed my previous outfit. It’s really starting to become annoying. She’s the one who set me up on this date, and she’s behaving as though nothing I’m trying on is good enough.
Since I met Havoc, I don’t even want to go, but what kind of sister would I be if I backed out now? Dinner with Havoc isn’t even solidified. His assistant hasn’t called, not that I expected her to actually since I challenged him to call me, but still, it’s been two w
eeks. He hasn’t bothered to call. That ship has sailed. Who even thinks of having their assistant call to set up a date anyway? It’s so impersonal.
“Look, just forget it. Apparently, Kyle’s friend is not going to like me in anything I wear.”
“He’ll like you in anything you aren’t wearing,” she remarks with a grin and I gasp. “I’m kidding! What you’re wearing is fine! I’m just in a mood because I’m on my period and haven’t had any all week with Kyle on the night shift. Today should be the last day, though. I’ll be back to my cheery self tomorrow.”
“Well, I just got off my period and not in the mood to go out on a date with some guy I’ve never met,” I gripe.
“Is this because of the guy you hooked up with at the engagement party?” she asks, and I roll my eyes.
Ever since I told Claire about my hook up, she’s acted weird about it. First, she was all for it, wanting juicy details, then she told me hooking up with a stranger was a mistake.
“No, I know that was a dead end and I’m not pining over him or anything.”
“Good, because that was a mistake,” she says. Again.
“Funny you are so adamant that it was a mistake now, because you originally told me there was nothing wrong with what I did.”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“I changed my mind because I found out he’s ―”
“She’s in here talking to my mommy about handsome strangers and sex,” Rory says, walking into the room. She climbs on the bed, and I notice she’s holding my phone.
“Rory, why do you have my phone?” I ask, mortified at what she said.
“I’m talking to Havie,” she answers, and my eyes go wide.
“Give me the phone, Rory,” I instruct, slowly moving toward her.
Like any child who has something she shouldn’t have, she scrambles off the bed and takes off running out of the room. I chase her down the hall, letting out a curse when I stub my toe on the coffee table. I hobble around the living room, and she giggles, telling “Havie” that I got a boo-boo. Finally, I reach her and snatch the phone from her grasp.
“Hello?” I answer, nearly breathless.
“Sex with a handsome stranger? Please tell me I’m the handsome stranger you’re referring to,” he teases.
“No idea what she was talking about.”
“I suppose you don’t have a boo-boo either. Should I kiss it and make it better?”
I know he’s teasing but damn if I don’t imagine him sucking my toes into his mouth while my feet are propped on his shoulders and he’s driving deep inside me.
Okay, wow. My imagination really got away with me on that one.
Deciding I shouldn’t tell him he can kiss my boo-boo, or anything else, I change the subject. “I was starting to give up on you. Figured you’d misplaced or forgotten my number. Either that, or you have a really terrible assistant.”
“No, Frankie, I didn’t misplace or forget your number. I’m simply a busy man,” he replies, and I admit to myself that my feelings are a little hurt that he was too busy to call me.
“Aunt Frankie, your date’s here!” Seth hollers and I cringe.
“Date?” Havoc asks, and I swear I can hear jealousy in his tone. “Sounds like you’re the one who forgot.”
“Oh, um, yeah, it’s nothing really. A friend of my brother-in-law’s,” I explain, although I don’t have to. It has been two weeks, after all. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“Do I need to remind you of that little whimper you make when I sink inside you, la mia fiamma?”
I swear, I pant into the phone. “I may need –”
“You’re on your way out,” he interrupts. “Why don’t you give me a call later and we’ll discuss dinner and what needs to be done to jog your memory? I don’t want you to be late for your date.”
“All right, I can ―”
“Good night, Frankie.” He disconnects the call, and I frown at the phone. How am I supposed to go on a date now?
Twelve
Havoc
I don’t recall a time in my life when I was jealous, but knowing Frankie is out with another man, that there is a possibility he’s touching her, hearing her laughter, seeing her smile, I am green with envy. Fanculo.
My own fiancée fucks other men, and I couldn’t care less. She could spread her legs to every man or woman in New York and I wouldn’t bat an eye.
But Frankie? I only met the woman a couple weeks ago and I’m already seething at the thought that someone else is basking in her attention.
Pissed at the idea, I turn my computer off and rise from my chair. I thought spending a few extra hours at work would abate my anger, but it hasn’t. If anything, I’ve only stewed more.
My original plan was to call her, set up the dinner and by some miracle, she would’ve been available this evening. Anneliese is out of town, deciding at the last minute to fly to Vegas for a girls’ trip, and I would’ve had the entire night with her. I waited too long. I was a fucking idiot for believing she was free.
No, she definitely isn’t free. She’s on a damn date. With another man. Not with me.
Hopefully, she’s thinking of me. My parting shot has to be on her mind. It’s definitely on mine. I need to hear those whimpers again, to be inside her. Fuck, I simply need to be around her again.
I adjust my dick in my slacks as I exit my office, noticing my father’s office door is ajar and the light is on. I debate on paying him a visit and decide now is as good a time as any to express my frustrations.
I tap on his door and he looks up from his laptop, puffing a cigar. I’ll never understand the appeal, but he’s been smoking those damn things since I was a kid.
“You’re here late,” I comment as he shuffles one file to the side and picks up another.
He may not be the best father in the world, but no one can say this man isn’t a hard worker. He’s more loyal to his clients than he has ever been to me.
“Do you need something, Julian?”
This is why I hate my first name. The way he says it. It always sounds so wrong coming from him. Like he has this disapproval in his tone when he says my name, this condescension, and I don’t believe he even realizes it.
“I need to discuss the engagement with you. It isn’t working.”
He pulls his cigar from his mouth and exhales a puff of smoke, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean it isn’t working? What’s not to work? You have a beautiful fiancée who comes from good stock that you’ll be inheriting once the ink on the papers dry. We’ve already discussed how HLS will profit from you taking over her father’s hotel chain. The partnership is vital to our global expansion.”
“It isn’t about what I’ll be gaining by marrying her or what HLS will be profiting. Can we put business aside for one fucking second?”
“What else is there? It sure as fuck isn’t about love, so don’t give me that,” he argues. “I fail to see the issue here, Julian.”
“Haven’t you always taught me not to take a handout? This is a fucking handout if I ever saw one!”
He slams his cigar down into the ashtray, snuffing it out so roughly that it breaks in two. “You are a hard worker, Julian, and you’ll keep working hard when you take over their business! Running hotels is not an easy feat; I have no doubt about that! It isn’t a fucking handout if you’re working for it!”
“I’m calling it off,” I say calmly.
I have never once defied my father. He wanted me to take piano lessons after my mother died, I took them. I was top of my class because he wanted to see me as valedictorian. I attended his alma mater. I majored in finance. I began working at HLS. I proposed to Anneliese.
I have done everything he’s asked of me, and still, he cannot hide his disappointment in me when he speaks my name. Still, he expects more of me.
“You are not calling it off! This deal is going through! I’ve already made plans, and you will not fuck them up!”
“Non mi sposo!”
“Speak fucking English, damn it!” he rages.
“I am not getting married!”
His fists slam on his desk as he rises, glaring at me. We have this standoff, neither of us willing to blink or move and then suddenly, he takes his hands and rakes everything off his desk, computer included. The screen cracks as it hits the floor, and papers fly everywhere.
“You will marry Anneliese Deviline, Julian, because I want you running that company and I will have access to those fucking hotels,” he replies, his firm tone and making it clear that there is no defying him now.
It’s not like I ever had a choice.
Thirteen
Frankie
Ryan is a nice guy; I won’t deny that. He’s good-looking and dresses impeccably. He was polite all throughout dinner, and conversation with him was easygoing. He made me laugh and feel comfortable.
What he didn’t make me do was feel any type of spark. When he dropped me off at my apartment, I didn’t fiddle with my keys in the hopes he would lean in for a kiss. I didn’t schedule a second date.
I’m sure I’ll have to give an explanation to Claire and Kyle, and I can do that. I met someone before the date, and I want to explore it. I had a spark with that man, not with Ryan. I want to know more about that man, find out if he ever found the vintage record he was looking for, what happened to his mom, if he feels the same way I do.
I don’t need to know anything else about Ryan. There is no burning desire inside me to find out any pertinent details about him but every part of me is aching to hear Havoc’s voice, see if I can summon a smile on his devastatingly handsome face.
As if he knows I’m thinking of him, he calls my phone. I’m grateful I have it on silent and so it doesn’t wake the kids up. I answer it in a whisper as I walk down the hallway to my bedroom.
