by Penelope Sky
And regardless of how hot he was, I was not screwing him.
I’d have to find another way.
The barista handed him his coffee, and he took a sip before he walked out and crossed the street. He didn’t look at me once because he didn’t notice me in the center of filled tables. That worked out in my favor, because if he did notice me, I wouldn’t be able to follow him anymore.
I watched him as he opened the door and stepped inside the bank, over six feet of muscle and pure masculinity. The suit fit him so well, clearly designed just for him, and he moved like a god rather than a human. The door shut behind him, and he was gone from my sight.
How was I going to do this?
I pulled up to Barsetti Vineyards and left my car in the gravel parking lot. The sun was high in the sky, and out in the middle of Tuscany, there were iconic views of the land that made it so famous. The smell of olive trees was in the air, along with the succulent scent of grapes in the vineyard.
I walked onto the property then made my way into the main building. A friend of my father’s ran the vineyard, and from what I could recall, he wasn’t just a winemaker. His hands were just as dirty as my father’s.
I checked in with his assistant before I stepped inside.
The last time I saw Crow Barsetti, I was just a child. His features weren’t easy to remember because I was just too young, but I did remember his eyes. They were unique with their green and hazel color. Now decades had passed, and he was a different man from the one I’d met all those years ago—but his eyes were still the same.
He rose from behind his desk and joined me near the door, examining me like he was trying to place me in his mind. “Siena Russo…are you Stefan’s daughter?”
He had a good memory. “I’m glad you remember me.”
“Vaguely,” he said simply. “How can I help you, Siena? Your father well?”
“Uh…not really.” I crossed my arms over my chest and hoped this man would risk everything to help me. It didn’t make sense why he would, but I had to try. Maybe he would take pity on me.
“What is it?” Tall and strong, he was a man who had aged well. Spending his days working at a winery had obviously kept him in shape. There were pictures scattered across his desk, probably pictures of his family.
“My father has been captured by Micah and his men. My brother is missing, and I’m not sure what’s going on with the business.”
He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Siena.” He seemed sincere.
“Micah made a deal with me. If I bring him a man he wants, he’ll let my father go. If I don’t…he’ll kill me and my father.” I left out the rape part. That was a subject no one ever wanted to discuss.
“Who’s the man?”
“Cato Marino.”
Crow sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “So he gives you a mission you have no chance of completing…”
“It seems that way.”
“I’m sorry, Siena. I warned your father he should walk away from the business. A criminal life will only last so long…before that luck runs out. I stopped my weapons business when I married my wife. We both wanted a simple life.”
“Good for you. I wish my father had done the same.” Perhaps my mother would still be alive right now if he had.
He gave me a look full of pity. “I know you’re going to ask for my help. But before you do, I have to tell you about my family. My brother and I have been running this winery for thirty years. Now I’m grooming my son-in-law to take it over. I have two grandsons. Reid is two and Crow Jr. is one.”
I smiled. “He was named after you.”
“Yes.” His happiness didn’t mirror mine. “I’ve fought many wars over my lifetime. I can’t do it anymore. I’m very sorry, Siena. Truly. But I can’t put my family in jeopardy, not when we finally have the peace we worked so hard for.”
How could I argue with a man who just wanted to protect his family? He’d made the right decision when my father didn’t. He’d walked away from his business and criminal ties to protect his family. He wasn’t greedy and selfish like my father. He’d made the right call. “I understand.” Crow Barsetti deserved the peace he’d fought for—and I would never take that away from him. “You’re right.”
He tilted his head slightly, his eyes full of pity. “Want my advice?”
“Please.” I lifted my eyes to meet his.
“Run.”
My heart started to palpitate.
“Your father wouldn’t want you to risk your life for his. He wouldn’t want you to attempt this mission and get killed. And if you fail, Micah will just hunt you down. Take whatever money you have left and run.”
It was good advice, the same advice I would give to anyone else.
“Stefan had his chance to choose a peaceful life. He didn’t take it. You shouldn’t be punished for that, Siena.”
He was absolutely right. I shouldn’t be punished for my father’s stupidity. “I agree with you. But my loyalty won’t allow me to give up. His blood is my blood. I know if our places were switched, he wouldn’t give up.”
“That’s different. He’s your father. That’s his burden—not yours. And as a father and a grandfather, I can promise you he would want you to run. He would want you to leave him to die. If my daughter were in that position…I would want her to run as hard as she could. My memory would live on with her anyway.”
It was a sweet thing to say, especially since it was so sincere. “I still can’t do it.” I couldn’t let my father rot in that prison until they tortured him to death. “I would never be happy anyway. I would constantly wonder if he’d been killed yet. And if he had been killed, the guilt would haunt me forever. He doesn’t deserve my loyalty…but he has it anyway.”
After I finished work at the gallery, I walked a few blocks until I reached the café Cato liked to frequent. This time, I didn’t stop by in the hope of seeing him. After the long day I’d had, I wanted an iced coffee and a muffin to rip apart with my fingertips.
Most people hated the brutal summers here in Florence, but I didn’t mind them at all. I’d grown up in this treacherous heat, and I couldn’t imagine my life without that experience. So I took my coffee and muffin and sat outside. I had a client who’d recruited me to decorate his summer home in Tuscany, and now I was studying images of his living room and dining room to determine the size and color of the frames as well as the artwork that would complement each one. That was my job—finding artwork for rich people. Sometimes people just wanted cheap stuff to cover the walls, but occasionally, my clients had more refined taste and preferred masterpieces by local artists. Those always took longer to locate, but since I charged by the hour, that worked out in my favor.
The chair across from me shifted, and then a heavy body filled its vacancy.
When my eyes flicked upward, they landed on the man I’d been hunting. With blue eyes that matched the summer sky and a hard jaw that looked like it’d been carved with a knife, the beautiful man I’d been watching from afar sat in front of me.
He didn’t greet me with that handsome smile I’d seen him flash to his women. Instead, his eyes were hostile and his lips were slightly pressed in amusement. He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie like he usually did when he frequented this spot. Today, he was dressed in jeans and an olive green t-shirt, a V in the front so his chest muscles were unmistakable. At this close distance, I could clearly see the tight cords in his neck, the obvious tension of the muscles of his physique. His sunglasses hung from the vee in his shirt, and he rested his forearms on the armrests of the chair. They were flanked with the same veins that matched his neck, and he was the tightest and fittest man I’d seen. It seemed like he only worked out and ate protein. No wonder he could get three different women in a row to make out with him without even making an introduction.
He’d caught me off guard and he knew it, judging by the hint of arrogance in his eyes, but I refused to acknowledge it. My table was scattered with images of a livin
g room and I was looking up artwork online, so it was clear I was actually working on something. I never allowed fear to enter my expression, so I remained as calm as ever. “Hello.” That was the only response I would give him. Saying the least amount possible was the smartest thing to do in this situation. Maybe he’d figured out I’d been following him. Or maybe he was making a pass at me. There was no real way to know until he stated his intentions.
“My stalkers aren’t usually young and beautiful women. This is a nice surprise.” He sat forward and moved his forearms to the top of the table. His hands rested on my paperwork, but he didn’t look down to examine my project. His eyes were glued to me and focused, like there was nothing else more important in the world than watching me. He didn’t blink as he took me in, and it seemed like I was sitting across from him in a business meeting. I wouldn’t be able to leave until I gave him what he wanted.
I kept my eyes on him as I shut my laptop. “Thank you. But I’m not a stalker.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as he examined me. “Don’t insult me. There’s nothing that goes on around me that I don’t notice.” His voice complemented his appearance perfectly. It was deep and sharp, just like the edge of a knife.
Even though his assumption was totally accurate, I didn’t like his arrogance. He was the conceited playboy I’d assumed he was. The whole world revolved around him—and him alone. Maybe I was just jealous that he could have hot sex every night of his life when I hadn’t gotten action in over a month. Or maybe I hated men who thought they were better than everyone else. I used to be rich once upon a time. I knew how rich people thought—that they were above everyone. “Maybe if you weren’t so cocky, you would realize it’s just a coincidence. Not everyone wants your balls.”
The corner of his mouth ticked slightly, like he wanted to smile but stopped himself from doing it. “If you don’t want my balls, then why are you following me?” Within the short time he sat there with me, he’d drawn attention from the other tables. Women turned around to look at him, aware that the sexiest bachelor in Italy had spotted a random woman he liked.
What a wrong assumption that was. “Coincidence.”
“Really?” He cocked his head slightly, his blue eyes taking me in aggressively. His wide shoulders looked broad in the cotton on his shirt, and the veins on his forearms moved all the way up to his biceps. “If you don’t want my balls and this really is a coincidence, then I should never see you again.” He rose to his feet and pushed the chair back at the same time. He walked off, turning his back on me and walking down the sidewalk. His ass looked snug in his jeans, and all the women in my vicinity noticed the exact same thing.
There was no mistaking the subtle threat in his tone. He let me off the hook because his formidable power was enough to chase anyone away. Unless I acted like I wanted to fuck him, he wanted nothing to do with me. If I had an ulterior motive, then I should stay the hell away from him.
But there was a problem with that.
I couldn’t stay away—not if I wanted my father to live.
4
Siena
I’d disliked Cato through my observations, but after our short conversation, I liked him even less. He was exactly what I assumed he would be—an arrogant son of a bitch. There was no need to feel guilty for my intentions of handing him over to Micah, not when he was that much of an ass.
So cocky, Jesus Christ.
I wanted to call the whole thing off because I didn’t want to deal with him, but when I remembered that my father’s life depended on me, I realized giving up wasn’t an option. Besides, I didn’t want Damien to rape me either. This was the best way out of this mess—for my father and me.
It looked like sleeping with Cato was my only option.
I didn’t want to do it, regardless of how hot he was. He was an arrogant douchebag, and that wasn’t sexy to me. I liked a sexy man as much as the next woman, but I needed other qualities too—like humility.
But I wasn’t given the luxury of choice in the matter.
I returned to his favorite club a few nights later, this time intending to be noticed. There were no further observations I could make in these conditions. I’d failed to uncover new information, other than the fact that he was the most arrogant man on the planet.
But I didn’t know how to use that to my advantage.
I wore one of my older cocktail dresses that I’d stashed away in my closet. I wore it to a special dinner my father had hosted, and there had been five hundred people there to celebrate his newly designed cigar. The dress was black and backless, hugging my body right above my ass. The halter top front was skintight and outlined the shape of my tits and my flat stomach. It was short, even shorter in the sky-high heels I wore. Up until this point, I’d never dressed to impress, but now I had to step up my game. Diamonds were in my ears, and my hair was pinned into an elegant updo so my bare back was more noticeable.
I hoped Cato would take the bait.
I assumed he would notice me whether he was impressed or not, simply because I’d seen him at that bakery just days ago.
I couldn’t believe I was doing this.
I would get on my back to achieve my goals.
If only there were another way.
An hour later, Cato and another man walked inside. Both dressed in jeans and t-shirts, they ignored the collared shirt dress code and helped themselves to the leather couches in their favorite area. The man with Cato hadn’t accompanied him last time, but his striking blue eyes and solid build told me they were related.
Probably brothers.
The waitress waited on them instantly, and then their groupies arrived. All beautiful and tall, they filled the empty spaces on the couch and rubbed their palms against his thighs. Like last time, kisses were shared.
His brother was getting the same level of action.
I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt my head a little. “Pigs.”
Fifteen minutes later, Cato’s attention on his fans started to wane. His eyes scanned the bar, like he wasn’t entirely happy with his catch for the day and was looking for something else. It only took a few seconds for his eyes to land on me.
Then we stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.
He didn’t show a hint of surprise. He didn’t seem angry. Instead, he just seemed intense, his unblinking eyes focused on me like a target. His arms were around the two women that were still lavishing him with affection, but his eyes were reserved for me.
I looked away first, not in admission of defeat, but indifference. I picked up my scotch and took a drink. There was no way in hell I would walk over there and start a conversation with those women clawing his thighs. My only option was to get him alone—and that meant he had to join me.
I set my glass down and continued to look away, hoping Cato would take the bait.
My brilliant plan was sabotaged when a handsome man came to my table with a scotch in his hand. “Looks like you’re getting low.”
Really? This guy had to make his move now? A smile emerged, and I kept up my calm façade, pretending this guy hadn’t just ruined an opportunity I’d worked so hard to set up. “Thank you. That was kind—”
“Leave.” Cato appeared at the table, towering over my guest with a few extra inches of height. His deep voice was as sharp as ever, slicing the poor guy with his razor edge. He threatened him with his gaze and size, spooking him like a frightened dog.
The guy didn’t put up a fight. He disappeared into the crowd—and took the scotch with him.
“There goes my free drink.” My legs were crossed under the table, and I rested my arms on the surface. My shoulders were back and my posture was poised, commanding the situation with my silent confidence.
Instead of taking the seat across from me, he sat right beside me, his thigh touching mine and his arm pressed against my shoulder. With his eyes trained on me, he subtly lifted his hand and beckoned to someone watching us.
The waitress appeared instant
ly.
“Two scotches,” he said, still looking at me. “One ice cube.”
She walked away without saying a word.
He was even more intense than the last time I saw him. I turned my gaze to meet his, showing the same fearlessness that he possessed in his own eyes. As far as I knew, this man was rich, but he was honest. He wasn’t a criminal who sold drugs or weapons. He made an honest living—so he couldn’t be too dangerous.
The waitress was back in a flash—along with the two glasses.
I grabbed mine and took a drink. “Thank you.”
He continued his relentless stare. “You’ve successfully claimed my attention. Now, what are you going to do with it?” His eyes flicked away from mine, traveling down my dress until he spotted my bare thighs under the table.
“I wasn’t trying to get your attention.” I took another drink, the booze calming my nerves.
“Really?” His blue eyes were chilly, like the arctic. “In a dress like that?”
“What’s wrong with my dress?” I countered, the drink in my hand.
He slid his hand over the back of the chair, his muscular arm pressing right against my shoulder blades. His skin was searing hot, a nice relief from the cold leather. He tilted his face nearer to me, our bodies so close together it didn’t seem like we were strangers. “You’re still wearing it.”
I shivered as the smooth words rolled off his tongue. He said it with such confidence, in a way no other man could pull off. I’d been with good men, but I’d never been with a man who possessed such raw masculinity. Cato was definitely a different breed of man. His arrogance could be attractive—once in a while.
I took another drink just to mask the heat that flushed into my face. “I’m not the kind of woman to straddle your hips and make out with you in a bar.”
