Sinfully Rich: A Steamy Billionaire Box Set

by Vivian Wood

  Every time my mind wanders off and ends up in the gutter, I pinch myself on the back of my hand. It’s the same technique that I used to stop biting my nails…

  But it isn’t working, thus far.

  When I finally get to Grandma’s house, I have to hunt her down. I finally find her in her outdoor greenhouse, kneeling between rows of mint and sage. It smells heavenly out here, especially when I pluck a tender shoot of mint, crushing it between my fingers.

  Grandma turns around at the sound of my footsteps approaching.

  “Cate!” she says, beckoning me closer. “Just the person I need. Here, grab a pair of gloves and help me weed.” She yanks a weed from the row of sage. “These damned weeds.”

  I pick up a pair of gloves, kneeling beside her. “Hi Grandma.”

  “Hello, sweetheart. Grab that tool there, will you?” She points to a hand tool and I pick it up. “Mmm. Doesn’t the earth smell good today?”

  I can’t argue with that. “Yep.”

  Pulling some weeds out by the roots, I toss them in the pile she’s made. Grandma presses her lips together, glancing at me.

  “How are things going with your man friend?”

  All the while her hands are busy, using the tool to dig up a fresh clod of earth.

  I blow out a breath. “Complicated.”

  Grandma’s lips lift. “They usually are.” She pauses, yanking on a particularly intractable weed until it comes free of the earth. Then she tosses it onto the pile. “I was under the impression that you didn’t like him. What is his name again? Luke?”

  “Luca,” I say. I grunt as I tug at a weed. “And I don’t. Or at least, I didn’t.”

  My grandmother slides me a look. “You know, your parents hated each other before they became a couple.”

  I stop pulling a weed. “Mom and Dad?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Grandma sits back, adjusting her hat. “Your mom was conservative at the time. In the way she dressed, in the things she did, how she voted too, probably. I think having me for a mother, the biggest hippie that you could find in Seattle, was hard for your mother in some ways.”

  I don’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt her remembrance. But I do put my hand on her back, rubbing small circles into her flesh. Grandma gives me a sad smile.

  “Anyway, your father came along. He was very different, from a military family but rebelling against what he came from. He was laid back where your mother was strict, mellow where she couldn’t be. She was a devout Catholic, he couldn’t be bothered with any church. You get the idea.”

  I frown. “How did two people who believed such different things end up married?”

  My cheeks stain, because I realize people could ask me the same question about Luca and I.

  “Eventually I think they met in the middle in most things,” Grandma says with a shrug. “But for a while there, all I heard about him were complaints. ‘Charlie did this, can you believe it?’ and ‘Charlie said that! I wanted to smack him!’” Grandma dusts off her hands. “Then one day, the script flipped. ‘Isn’t Charlie handsome?’”

  She chuckles, then gets up, her knees popping.

  “Careful there,” I say, steadying her.

  She waves me off. “Come on. We need some hot cocoa. I’ve already set up the pitcher just inside the back door. We should sit on the back porch while we warm ourselves.”

  She marches toward the back porch, leaving me to follow her.

  “Mom and Dad really seemed happy together,” I muse.

  “They were.” She climbs the steps to the back porch. “Sit yourself down. I’ll grab the cocoa.”

  I take one of the ancient wooded rocking chairs as Grandma returns with two steaming mugs full of cocoa. Thanking her, I sip mine experimentally.

  Grandma is a lot of wonderful things, but a good cook is not one of them. To my surprise, it’s well-balanced, the dark bittersweet chocolate offset by the buttery milk fat. Somehow, the notes are in harmony.

  “I didn’t make the cocoa,” she says, smiling as she sips it. “I’m sure you can tell. Carmine made a few batches for the house.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” I protest, warming my hands on the mug.

  Things are quiet for half a minute, then Grandma speaks again. “You said things are complicated with you and your man friend. Why do you feel that way?”

  “Oh.” I blow out a breath. “I met his parents last night. I mean, I’ve met them before as Luna’s parents, but they barely noticed me. Last night though, they were paying attention and it was…” I pause, searching for the words. “A little bit terrifying, to say the least.”

  She arches a brow. “How so?”

  “Mr. Leone was… I don’t know, commandeering? And imperious? And Luca’s mom… she was nice but she drank a lot. A lot. Thank god they’re gone a lot, but… I can’t imagine growing up with them as parents.”

  My grandmother nods. “You were lucky, I think. Having the parents you had…”

  That phrase makes me a little sad. Had, in the past tense. “Yeah,” I say, my shoulders slumping. It’s a little weird to even be having this conversation about my parents.

  Then she smiles slyly at me. “So have you told Luca yet?”

  My brow pulls down. “Told him what?”

  “That whatever he’s doing, it’s working. You’re smitten with him, I can tell.”

  A bloom of heat rises in my cheeks. “What? No. Ugh.”

  I roll my eyes but Grandma just grins at me. “Oh yes. You like him. Grandmothers have a sixth sense about these things.”

  I shake my head. “Nope. This conversation is over. Cancelled!”

  “Mmm-hmm.” Grandma looks down at her cocoa, pleased with herself. “We can change the subject but I don’t think that will change the way you feel.”

  I stand up. “I should probably get going anyway.”

  “Oh, come give me a hug.” She stands up and hugs me, brushing my hair back from my face.

  Long after I leave though, I’m still turning over what she said.

  Am I really smitten with Luca? I mean, we have been in pretty close quarters for almost a month and a half now. And close quarters did bleed over into us having sex once…

  I don’t want to be one of those girls that goes all goo-goo eyed over a guy that she’s had sex with, though. That’s so not me.

  Then again, neither was having sex with Luca in the first place.

  I’m still turning the thought over and over in mind my mind when I reach the Attic. I head to the employee locker room, getting ready for work at a snail’s pace. Bradford comes into the locker room, waving several envelopes in the air.

  “Honey, please get these checks out of my mailbox,” he says. “They’ve just been piling up out there. The other employees take theirs home the second they get them.”

  He hands me three envelopes. I frown at them, shaking my head a little. “I thought that you guys just dealt with this stuff somehow. I didn’t realize that I had checks waiting for me, I guess.”

  “Well, you do. And they should be pretty substantial, especially since you have all your credit card tips on your paycheck.”

  I flush a bit. “Right. Thanks.”

  He waves, already on his way out of the locker room. “See you in a while!”

  I stare at the checks in my hand, then sigh. Ripping open the first one, I scan for the amount listed.

  Net pay… $1709.16.

  My eyes bulge out. Surely that has to be a mistake! No way in hell did I actually earn that much. Tearing open the other two checks, I find that they’re for even more.

  Nineteen hundred dollars and twenty four hundred dollars.

  That can’t be right! I mean… I don’t remember talking to Luca about what I would earn hourly, but this is… some kind of charity, surely.

  I mean, there is just no way that I’ve earned that much. Bursting out of the locker room, I practically run to the bar. Bradford looks up from a stack of receipts, arching an eyebrow.

&nbs
p; “Something wrong with your paychecks, darling?” he drawls.

  I shove them at him, my expression grave. “That can’t be right,” I say, pointing at the dollar amount. “There is no way that I have earned that much working less than twenty hours a week.”

  Bradford smothers a sigh and takes the checks, looking at my paystubs. “I mean, that looks right to me. I would estimate about that if someone asked me how much a waitress or a bar back makes here.”

  My heart thunders. “How much money does the bar make every night?”

  He crosses his arms, pressing his lips together. “Way more than you thought, apparently. What is your issue here? Do you feel like you make too much? Because let me tell you something, dear. I guarantee you that other people, people who have to actually pay rent and bills, would kill for that issue. There are a lot of people in the world that are struggling to make ends meet.”

  My eyes widen. I didn’t mean to complain at all. “I was just trying—”

  Bradford holds up a hand to silence me. “Do you have an actual issue with your paychecks?”

  Coloring, I hesitate then shake my head. “No.”

  “Good.” He hands me back the checks. “If there isn’t anything else, I am trying to finish up some paperwork before the shift starts.”

  I nod meekly. “Of course. I’ll be right back, just let me put these checks in my locker.”

  Bradford smiles lightly but his eyes go down to the paperwork before him. I know a dismissal when I see one.

  Slinking back to the employee locker room with my checks, I feel a little chastised. I really didn’t mean to make a big deal out of nothing, especially not with one of Luca’s business partners. And doubly so with someone that is essentially a stranger.

  I shove the checks in the back of my locker and close the door. It just doesn’t seem right that I should have so much when there are so many people that actually need to earn what I’ve accidentally stumbled into earning.

  With that thought now weighing heavily on me, I head out to start my shift.

  21

  Luca

  I pull my SUV into a spot at the marina, turning the engine off. The morning is just getting bright. Even through the car windows, the briny smell of the ocean takes over my senses.

  Cate looks at me, her suspicion evident. “What is this?”

  I roll my eyes. “See all the boats and the docks? We are at a marina. Not a shabby one, either.”

  She gives her head a shake. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. Why did you have me pack for two nights away?”

  I wink at her. “You’ll have to grab your bag and come with me to find out.”

  She looks out at the yachts bobbing in water, her brow pulling down. But when I get out of the car and grab my bag, she follows suit.

  “Come on,” I say, closing the trunk of the Porsche. “It’s a reward for being so helpful the other night. I know my parents can be a handful.”

  She looks uncertain, but I lead her down to the docks, weaving around some of the larger yachts until I stop in front of Tonight’s Promise.

  It’s more of a schooner than a yacht, but it’s plenty big enough for the two of us. Plus I got it at the last minute, because inspiration for this little trip only struck yesterday morning.

  “Surprise!” I say, glancing at her to gauge her reaction. She looks warily up at the ship.

  “Please tell me you didn’t buy me a boat.”

  I smirk. “You wish. This boat costs more than a normal person makes in five years.” The way she glares at me makes me laugh a little. “Relax, princess. I rented it for the next two days. Come on, let’s head on board.”

  I walk up the wobbly plank that leads onto the boat, putting my bag down and helping her on board. She looks around, obviously fretting about something.

  “What?” I ask. “Come on, it’s fine. I covered our shifts at work, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  She looks at me, gripping her tote bag and steadying herself on the boat’s railing. “I’ve never been on a ship before,” she confesses. “Or a boat or even a canoe.”

  “What??” I say. “We’re in Seattle! The water is so close to us!”

  Her cheeks color. “I know. We just grew up very differently, you and I.”

  That is undoubtedly true; Luna and I spent whole summers when we were kids navigating the seas and making sure our mom didn’t fall over the railing when she’d had too many glasses of wine.

  “Well, that’s okay. It really just takes some getting used to,” I tell her. “Here, let me show you around. Then we can head out to sea.”

  I point her toward the staircase that leads down into the sleeping quarters, tiny kitchen, and bathroom. She starts moving toward it like she’s walking on the surface of some new planet and is not sure how gravity works here.

  “You can drive this boat?” she asks.

  “Yep. I have a license.”

  I follow the clatter of her footsteps down the stairs. She stops short when she sees the bedroom. With two round windows spilling bright light into the room, it’s barely large enough to contain a double bed.

  “This is it?”

  I sling my bag onto the bed. Then I take hers and toss it onto the bed too. “Yeah. There are bigger boats with more room, but I figured if I rented something lavish you would really freak out.”

  She looks at me. “But there is only one bed!”

  I roll my eyes. “There is a hammock hanging upstairs behind the steering wheel. I’ll sleep there if necessary.”

  She exhales and looks at the bed again. “I don’t know, Luca…”

  I move a little closer to Cate, looking down at her with a stern look. I wish that I thought she would respond to being kissed or caressed, but something tells me she would be off of this boat so fast my head would spin.

  So I just settle for almost touching, here in this confined physical space.

  I touch her arm, moving my hand down to her elbow. Not a caress, just resting my hand on her body.

  “Just trust me, okay? Give it one day. If you hate it after today, we’ll sail back tomorrow.”

  She looks up at me, biting her lip. Her nostrils flare, her pupils dilate a fraction. She licks her lips, blushing.

  “Okay,” she says, her voice breathy.

  I stare down into her eyes, liking the willingness I find there. “Okay.” There is a moment of real connection there, hanging there between us. A moment that reminds me of just how it felt to have her in my arms, how it felt to hear her quiet moans and throaty pleas. A moment where her gaze dips down to my mouth and I lean closer, sober as a judge, ready to take her breath away.

  But then that moment stretches a bit too long and grows awkward. Cate glances away and I take a step back, clearing my throat.

  “I’ll just go—” she starts.

  “I should go—” I say.

  We both give each other a bland smile. Turning, I hustle out of the room, climbing the compact staircase to get back to the upper deck.

  Why are both of us so damn awkward together? I wonder as I head for the captain’s chair. I guess that some leftover feelings are involved on both our parts, and none of them are good.

  It’s all bitterness that is pulling us down, threatening to make us sink. This mini-vacation will act as a test, telling me whether or not we can leave that bitterness in the past or whether we are just stuck in our ways.

  I fire up the schooner, carefully guiding it out of the marina. For a while I am alone on the very top of the boat, up inside the steering cabin.

  Setting the course for a nice, leisurely cruise on the Pacific Ocean, I hang out in the captain’s chair for a bit. That turns into hours, the sun getting brighter and then starting to slip from its place in the middle of the sky. I hear nothing from belowdecks, not a single peep.

  Eventually though I start to worry about Cate, so I head back downstairs.

  I find Cate at the top of the stairs, sitting and looking out at the water. �
��I see you found a shady spot.”

  She surveys me, blocking out the sun with a hand. “I did.”

  “Do you want to come tour the captain’s chair? Or are you hungry yet?” I ask.

  “Why did you bring me out here?” she asks.

  I shift my stance. “To thank you for handling my parents so well the other night. I already said that, I think.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Anybody would have done the same.”

  I smirk. “No, they wouldn’t have. A lot of girls would’ve turned tail and fled.” I glance out over the deck, to the gorgeous blue-green water. “It actually has me thinking that I should make sure to find someone that can handle my parents, when the time comes for me to settle down.”

  She frowns, considering my words. “Is that what you’re looking for in a woman?”

  I pause. Something tells me I should watch myself here.

  “Well… yeah. In the broadest sense.” I cross my arms. “It’s a little like this. Three years ago, my friends and I went crazy and bought the building that would become the bar. So I try to bear that in mind when I’m meeting potential partners. I’m a successful bar owner. I’m rich. I’m handsome. I’m fit. I want someone who is all of that, but more.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Oh, is that all?”

  I shrug. “When it comes to marriage? Yes. I need someone who challenges me to do more… but at the same time, they have their own things going on. I don’t want somebody that is always waiting around to see what I’m up to. I don’t want to be tied to someone that stagnates.”

  “I see.” Her mouth flattens. “What else do you see for your future?”

  I furrow my brow. “That’s more uncertain. I know that I would like to own a few more bars. I want to travel a lot, preferably with my wife. I haven’t ever visited Asia or Australia, so they’re on my bucket list.” I pause, thinking. “And if I have children of my own, I’ll treat them a thousand times better than my parents ever treated me.”

  Cate nods. “Those are respectable goals.”

  I spread my hands wide. “What about you?”

  She glances at me. Then her lips quirk. “Can I ask you for a favor?”