The Banker

by Penelope Sky

  I had a three-story home on forty acres of land in Tuscany. The drive branched off the main road and entered a forest of trees that hid the house from view. After nearly a mile, the drive finally reached the black gates with my surname fashioned in iron. A wall made of cobblestone surrounded the entire property, covering the forty acres and making it a hidden gem in the middle of the countryside. Men were stationed all along the wall—whether I was home or not.

  It was the perfect meeting place for my biggest clients.

  Because it couldn’t be more private.

  Clients could slip in and out without being spotted by another living soul. Transactions could be made with fifty men on duty. It was a place where men could loosen their ties and refresh their drink as many times as they wished.

  Also, not all my transactions were legal. I made money in a lot of ways, and I broke the law in many ways to make that happen. I hid money from various governments for tax purposes and made a profit off those investments. Any powerful person in this world came to me if they wanted to keep their money safe—and make more money.

  Bates and I just finished a meeting with clients from China. They were chauffeured out to the roundabout near the fountain and then guided to the end of the driveway and the iron gate. Photographers and journalists couldn’t follow them here, and my clients were always pleased and comforted by the extreme privacy—along with all the security that combed the property.

  Nothing happened under my watch.

  I sat in the leather chair near the window, my legs crossed and my fingers resting under my chin. It was a bright summer day in Tuscany, and the brilliant rays penetrated through the glass and shone across my thigh. My callused fingertips brushed against my chin, soft from shaving that morning.

  Bates sat in the comfortable armchair with his empty glass of scotch on the table. He was looking through the paperwork we’d just discussed with our clients. We were being given a great deal of money for safekeeping, which would be disguised as international investments in America. We evaded foreign detection and took advantage of the interest rates. He licked his thumb before he turned the page.

  I kept my gaze out the window, thinking about nothing but also everything. “Bates.”

  “Hmm?” Wearing jeans and a t-shirt, he’d ditched a classic suit because we didn’t need fancy clothes for meetings at this place. The estate spoke for itself.

  “Doesn’t it feel like the same shit over and over again?” From the third story, I could see over the cobblestone wall and to my neighbor’s property. Vineyards backed up all the way to my property line, but his actual residence was too far away to be seen.

  Bates lifted his gaze from the documents in his lap. “You could say that—not that I’m complaining.”

  Every day felt like déjà vu. My routine was almost always the same. I was referred to new clients from happy clients, and then I made new deals that increased my institutional holdings. More money was thrown on the table, but the pile was always so big I couldn’t see it grow anymore. As a thirty-year-old man, I’d accomplished everything a sixty-year-old man could only dream of. It used to be exciting. Now it seemed repetitive.

  Bates lifted his gaze again, his eyes narrowing on me. “We just scored a huge deal. Don’t sit there and tell me you’re bored.”

  I slowly turned in my chair and faced him, forcing my gaze away from the window and the landscape around my property.

  Bates watched me with powerful eyes, regarding me like an opponent rather than a brother. The folder was open across his crossed legs, the signatures collected.

  My glass was empty, and my mind was dead. Throughout the entire meeting, my heart rate didn’t rise once. It was the same meeting I’d had a million times, just with different faces. It was the same conversation I’d had a million times, the same handshake. “Yes. I’m bored.”

  Bates slowly raised his right eyebrow, regarding me like I was losing my mind. He shut the folder without taking his eyes off me and tossed it on the large wooden table where the men had been gathered just twenty minutes ago. Their empty glasses still remained because the maids knew better than to interrupt us. “You have everything any man could ever want. How the hell could you be bored?”

  “Good question.”

  Bates turned silent as he waited for me to elaborate. When I didn’t speak, he pressed forward. “The women are boring you?”

  There was nothing wrong with the women in my bed. Beautiful, sexy, and adventurous, they were exactly what I fantasized about. I always fucked two women at once. Made it carnal and animalistic. A single woman seemed too intimate now. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been with just a single woman. It must have been years ago. “I suppose.”

  “Jesus, I hope this isn’t going where I think it is…”

  “And where do you think that is?”

  “You want a wife?”

  If being with different women every single night was boring, then a marriage would be even worse. My head would explode from mundane repetitiveness. “No. It’s the last thing on my mind.”

  Bates released an audible sigh of relief.

  Marriage wasn’t in the cards for either of us. It was too complicated. There wasn’t a single woman in the world who wouldn’t be tempted by our wealth. The second she got her hands on it, it would destroy her. It would complicate our business relationship, even if we drafted all the legal paperwork to keep her hands off the company in the event of divorce. It was something we’d agreed on a long time ago. So far, neither one of us struggled to keep our promise. After so many years of fucking around, women were all the same.

  “Then what’s your problem, Cato?”

  I didn’t have a single thing to complain about, and it would be childish to be ungrateful. My family struggled when I was young, and I would forever be humbled by my years of being poor. But now my life lacked purpose. “Wish I knew.”

  “Does this have anything to do with what happened to Mother the other night?”

  “No.” I made sure that asshole stayed away from her. This time, I put a team of security on her premises—even though she wasn’t happy about it.

  “Then where is this coming from?”

  Those green eyes popped into my mind, brilliant like emeralds and highlighted by the sternness of her eyebrows. She had the most elegant neck, long and slender with gorgeous skin. Her lips were soft like pillows, and her small tongue was both timid and inviting. The desire in her eyes had flickered away when she’d seen Christina beside her—and that longing never returned. She told me off before she marched out of my home, taking me to task like I wasn’t the most powerful man in this country. It was the most interesting conversation I’d had in a year. “No idea.”

  6

  Siena

  I sat at the kitchen table in my house, information and photographs of Cato spread out everywhere. There was an open bag of candy I was munching on, along with my third cup of coffee. Fresh out of ideas, I sat there and tried to think of a plan.

  I had nothing.

  Cato was too much of a pig to seduce. He was too strong to take down. And he was too guarded for me to intercept him.

  I had a greater chance of flying to the moon than making this work.

  The last memory I had of him floated in my mind. He stood outside the elevator in his black boxers, his muscled chest heaving with rage. Everything about him was sexy, from his narrow hips to his muscular thighs. He looked at me like I was the biggest pain in the ass—but he was still sexy.

  Such a damn pig.

  I’d had my fair share of playboys and assholes, but Cato Marino was a whole new level.

  The man thought he was God.

  He thought he could do whatever he wanted without explanation. It was so selfish that he didn’t even consider what his date might want. The second I walked out of there, he probably called another woman to replace me. Then he fucked them both and forgot about me altogether.

  Pig.

  My phone rang, and someone I
didn’t want to talk to was on the other line. “Yes, Damien?”

  His smile was audible over the line. “Sweetheart, I love the happiness in your voice.”

  “You call it happiness. I call it disgust. So what do you want?”

  “Right to the point,” he said with a chuckle.

  I cut to the chase before he could drag it out. “I’m still working on it. I’ve interacted with Cato a few times but haven’t figured out a way to make this work.”

  “So you did decide to sleep with him.”

  “No. Never said that.”

  “Whatever you say, sweetheart. When do you think this is gonna happen?”

  “I really don’t know,” I snapped. “You’ve given me a task that’s impossible to complete.”

  “That doesn’t bode well for your father…”

  Instead of pitying my father for being locked away, I was livid with him. If only he had listened to me, all of this wouldn’t be happening. He cared more about money than protecting his family—now I was the one fixing everything. I despised money with every fiber of my being. I didn’t miss a life of luxury, not when it came with so much hardship. My little house outside of Florence was perfect. I had enough money for everything I needed on a budget—and that was more than enough. “I’ll figure it out, Damien.”

  “Alright. Just don’t take too long.” Click.

  I set the phone down and shoved my hand back into the candy bag. I got a fistful of sugar then stuffed it into my mouth, not caring about the impact on my waistline. It wasn’t like I still needed to seduce Cato.

  My phone started to ring again, this time with a number I didn’t recognize. I answered. “Siena.”

  “Hello, Siena. How are you?” The deep voice over the line was inherently familiar, filled with a fatherly affection.

  The image of Crow Barsetti popped into my mind, but that was ridiculous considering I hardly knew him. Our interactions had only lasted a handful of minutes. I’d had an immediate draw to him the last time I saw him, feeling that same sensation in my chest that I felt toward my own father. “Crow?”

  “Yes.” He spoke with affection. “I have a distinctive voice, don’t I?”

  “Yeah, I guess you do.” I was just threatened by Damien minutes ago, but that seemed so long ago now. Crow’s warmth washed away Damien’s coldness. “How can I help you?”

  “I’ve been thinking about our conversation a lot.”

  Had he decided to help me?

  “I haven’t changed my position on the matter. I’ve got a large family to think about. But I was able to make some calls and get some information for you.”

  “Really?” I asked, gasping slightly. “Oh my god, thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say…”

  “Well, it’s not a lot to work with, but Cato is looking for an art buyer to decorate his home in Tuscany. That’s what you do for a living, correct?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t ask how he knew that.

  “I put in a good word for you. Said you were the best.”

  He’d really stuck out his neck for me. “Wow…”

  “It’s a way into his home and a way to get his attention. It’s not the kind of job his assistant can handle. Art is very personal, so he’ll have to approve of everything you find for him. It’s the closest you’re going to get.”

  I already got pretty close to his bed…but that didn’t work out. “Thank you so much, Crow. Really…it means a lot to me. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

  He was quiet for a long time, letting the silence dangle between us. “I know how important family is. So do you.”

  I was at the gallery a few days later when the phone rang on the desk. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and business was slow. Few people were looking for a professional art buyer in the middle of the day.

  I answered. “The Rosa Gallery. This is Siena.” I had a list of clients I met through the gallery, and my job was to find the perfect pieces for them. I had a few high-profile clients who commissioned me to decorate their homes or offices, but most of the time, people were just looking for one single painting.

  “Siena Russo?” the man asked bluntly.

  “Yes, this is she. How can I help you?”

  “My boss is looking for someone to decorate his home with specific pieces of art. He has very particular taste and a very large budget. I’ve done my research, and it seems like you’ve made quite a reputation for yourself.”

  Thank you, Crow. “I’m flattered.”

  “Are you interested in the project?”

  A normal person would ask a million questions, but since I already knew this was for Cato, I didn’t. “Very much so. Just let me know when you would like to get started. I should probably meet your boss to garner what he likes.”

  “I’ll see if he has the time. He’s very busy.”

  Yes. Busy being a pig. “You know where to find me.”

  I drove into western Tuscany and approached the large cobblestone wall that surrounded the property. It was a private piece of land, and I couldn’t see any neighbors on either side of the road. The foliage was dense and green despite the merciless heat, and like always, there was a scent of grapes in the air.

  I pulled up to the black iron gate and watched the security detail examine me. One came to my window and asked for my identification before they opened the doors and allowed me through.

  My heart fell into my stomach. This man was guarded at all times. I would need a hundred armed men if I had any chance of accomplishing anything, and even then, the odds weren’t in my favor.

  I drove up the road and onto his property, seeing the acres of lush landscape enclosed within the walls. Cato’s security team seemed to stay along the perimeter because his actual home was peaceful and quiet. Three stories tall, it was a mansion big enough for twenty people.

  Hard to imagine he lived there alone.

  Even though he certainly didn’t sleep alone.

  I parked in the roundabout, gathered my things, and prepared to come face-to-face with the man I blew off. The angry look in his eyes was still fresh in my mind. I insulted him and stormed off, something he probably wasn’t used to. Everyone bowed down to him like he was some kind of king.

  He might not even hire me.

  He might take one look at me and order me off his property.

  I knocked on the door and was greeted by a man in slacks and a polo shirt. “You must be Siena.” A man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair smiled and showed his nice grin. His skin was distinctly tanned, like he attended to the needs outside the house as well as inside. “Please come in.”

  “Thank you.” I wore a black dress with a black cardigan, a string of pearls around my neck. Whenever I worked, I always wore those two shades. It complemented the artwork I showed and made me seem neutral in comparison. My heels were higher than usual, giving me an extra three inches of height. They clacked against the wood as I carried myself inside. “I’m excited to be here.”

  “We’re excited to have you. It’s a beautiful home, but it needs to lighten up a bit.” He placed his hand between my shoulder blades then guided me into a private room. The entryway had two staircases on opposite sides, and the space in between was big enough to fit a cocktail party. Hardwood floors and beautiful moldings made it the most beautiful house I’d ever set eyes on.

  The sitting room had two couches with a coffee table, along with other chairs and a large window that showed the rest of his property in the rear. It smelled clean and fresh, but it looked like a room that was never touched. It was probably one of the many rooms reserved for private conversation, but not quite a business meeting.

  “Coffee or tea?” he asked. “Or are you prepared for something stronger?”

  “I’ll have whatever Mr. Marino enjoys.”

  “Well, Mr. Marino is a scotch fan.”

  I already knew that. “What a coincidence. So am I.”

  He gave a slight nod. “You two will get along just fine. I’m Giovanni,
by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you, Giovanni.”

  He walked out and left the door open.

  I organized my papers and readied my notes, my heart hammering in my chest. Even if I didn’t have ulterior motives, this would still be my dream job. This place was enormous, and judging by how elegantly it was already decorated, only the most beautiful pieces of art should hang on these walls. It would be an honor to work on something like this—and get paid for it.

  But I wondered what his reaction would be once he saw me.

  Giovanni returned a few minutes later. He set down a tray with a decanter of scotch, two glasses with a single cube of ice in each, and assorted cheese and grapes. “Mr. Marino is just finishing up with his mother. He’ll be in shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  After Giovanni left, I sat still and felt the nerves get to me. There was no reason to let his intimidation affect me, not when I had a mission to fulfill. My father’s life was on the line, so even if he were a good person, it wouldn’t change the way I felt about the task.

  I heard his voice a moment later. “I’ll see you later, Mother.” His heavy footsteps echoed in the entryway.

  The sound of her heels accompanied his. “Thank you for making time for me, son. I know how busy you are.” She spoke like a queen, retaining so much elegance that I imagined her wearing a tiara.

  A door shut a moment later.

  Then I heard his footsteps get closer as he approached. Louder and louder they grew until his presence filled the air. Rigid with power and authority, he owned the room the second he stepped into it.

  My back was to him, so I couldn’t see his face.

  He couldn’t see mine.

  He didn’t apologize for making me wait, and he didn’t introduce himself either, like announcing his name was simply redundant. He carried himself like a king, like every single one of his subjects should know exactly who he was and never turn their backs on him.

  I rose to my feet and faced him, keeping my poise as if his undeniable power had no effect on me.