“Very well, then. I’ll get started on the purchase agreements and profit-sharing scheme.”
She rises and walks out of my office as stately as the queen that she is. I watch her go with admiration, already knowing she’s going to accompany me to that ball.
When she’s gone, I pull out my phone to deal with any calls that I had sent directly to voicemail.
One rises to the top. The one I know I have to deal with first.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Magnus
“I can’t believe how ashamed I am of you right now, Magnus,” Mona says in a voice that is surprisingly animated. Usually, she is the softer voice of reason, molding behavior with a velvet glove rather than an iron fist.
“I take it Estelle told you about last night.”
“She didn’t have to. I woke up to the sound of her crying as she came to visit afterward, completely humiliated and broken.”
I steel my emotions against how I feel about that, especially coming from Mona. I’m used to Estelle using the sympathy card to get her way with me. Mona is a more difficult contender to do battle with.
“I’m sure she’ll get over it when this Giorgio moves on, and she finds a new boy to play with.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “You don’t even see it, do you, Magnus.”
“See what.”
“How you’re losing her. Pretty soon, not even the money will be enough to salvage what you two once had. Once upon a time, she idolized you. When you two first came to me, she wouldn’t even talk unless she was holding your hand. Now, the only words she has to say about you are pure venom.”
That’s enough to create a crack inside of me. I rarely get nostalgic, since the most significant portions of my past are not something I’d like to return to. Just thinking about Estelle conjures up this fierce need to go into protective mode.
Even now, all I can focus on is how manipulative Giorgio Conti must have been in brainwashing her into falling for him. I’ve seen it happen with her too many times to think it could be anything other than that.
Mona’s next words surprise me.
“Giorgio would like to meet with you.”
“He would?”
“Yes, today, if you can find time in what I’m sure is a very busy schedule for you.” She says it in such a way that warns me I’d be remiss if I didn’t agree to this. “I think it says a lot that he wants there to be peace between you and Estelle rather than be something that comes between you two.”
“Is that so?” I say, unconvinced.
“Yes. And Magnus?”
“Yes, Mona.”
“I’ve seen enough of the two of them to know. If she has to choose, this time, it won’t be you.”
I stare at the wall to consider that. Mona is not one to make idle threats just to make a point or create peace. She has the sort of intuition that always made me wonder why she never married or had children.
It’s enough for me to take the warning seriously.
“I’ll clear my schedule for him.”
* * *
Once again, I’ve instructed my assistant to hold all calls and keep any intrusions at bay.
All to meet with Giorgio Conti, as per his request.
I still can’t help feeling like this will be nothing more than swatting a fly away. I fully expect this meeting to be one where the hammer falls, and he reveals his true intentions—namely that of asking for money.
“Bonjour,” he announces as he walks into my office.
“Bonjour,” I gesture to the seat across from me. “Please have a seat.”
I study him as he walks in, searching for any hint of feral greed. The look on his face is pleasant but determined. I can usually spot a bluffer, and so far, Giorgio has given nothing away that would make me suspicious.
Which in and of itself is suspicious.
“So, you wanted to talk to me about my sister,” I say, slightly stressing the last part so he knows what she means to me.
“Sì—yes, I do.”
I idly wave my hand, giving him the floor, making sure my own poker face is intact.
All hints of pleasantness leave his face as he looks me directly in the eye.
“I love Estelle.”
Not very inventive, but as good an opener as any.
“If any other man on earth had disrespected her the way you did last night, he would be in the hospital.”
If any other man on earth talked to me this way, the same would be true of him. But at least he has my attention.
“But I know you are her older brother. I have two older brothers of my own, so I understand your need to feel protective over her. As a younger sibling, I also understand what it is like to be…pampered? Is how you’d say it? Treated like you are incapable of making decisions for yourself.”
I fold my hands in front of me, my elbows resting on the arms of my chair as I lean back. I’m curious to see where this is going.
“But Estelle is a woman.” He pauses as though to make sure that sinks into my thick head.
I simply lower my eyes in acknowledgment.
“I know about her past with men, so I understand your concern. I am not one of those men. I have no interest in what money Estelle may have…or that which she does not have. I love her for her, because she loves finding beauty in the world. Because she has the same creative mind that I do. Because I enjoy staying up late, watching the stars with her. For the past six months, there hasn’t been a day where I don’t at least talk to her on the phone.”
Six damn months?
Still, I keep my face perfectly neutral.
“It takes more than stargazing to create a relationship.”
He gives me an indulgent smile. “Sì, I know this. But one has to start somewhere, no? I knew within a month that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with your sister. I’m willing to do what it takes to convince you of that.”
I have to admit that he’s managed to sway me. But I’ve dealt with wolves in sheep’s clothing most of my life. The best charmers are usually psychopaths underneath.
“Tell me about your prior engagement. The one you broke off.”
To his credit, he only blinks once.
“My family is old-fashioned. They are also heavily invested in our company. They wanted me to marry an Italian girl, from a family that would…benefit the business. Gabriella was the daughter of an Italian man who owns a successful textile design house. Our families were close and had done business in the past. But…” he shrugs and grins. “Gabriella was in love with someone else. Since I didn’t love her, we agreed amongst ourselves to end the engagement.”
“How did your families feel about that?”
He gives me a knowing smile. “They were not happy.”
“And now?”
He considers me. “You are worried about Estelle and what they might think of her.”
“Obviously.”
“Yes, my family is old fashioned, but they are also understanding. They believe in love as much as I do.”
“I suppose that makes me a cynic.”
He chuckles. “In that you don’t believe in love?”
“In that I’m a bit more practical than that.”
He studies me once again. “That is only because you’ve never experienced it. Not romantic love at any rate.”
I feel a surge of anger rush through me. How dare this…boy, come into my office and dictate—
“When you do, you’ll do whatever you have to in order to make it work, practical or not. Fortunately, Estelle and I are perfect for one another.”
“Is that so?” I say, the sarcasm in my voice more than obvious.
“It is. I know this because if I were to let her go at your insistence, she would come back to me. And, unfortunately, you would then lose her. I do not want that.”
“Thank you for your consideration.” Again with even more sarcasm now.
His smile is so amused, it’s insulting. “Let me prove myself to y
ou instead. I’m willing to do that.”
Now, it’s my turn to consider him, this time in a new light. “I suppose I can do that much.”
He grins. “As for my family, they’ve already met her. No, she is not Italian, but they love her all the same. So you do not have to worry.”
I bite back a smirk.
“I know you are a busy man. We will be in town for several weeks. I hope next time we can meet with a more positive outcome.”
“I hope so too,” I reply, my voice half-conceding and half-warning.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Sloane
Tonight is the Red Cross Gala.
It took me two days to agree to go with Magnus. I was too curious about it not to go. Mostly, I didn’t want his aunt to think I was a flake by not showing up. I have no idea what he told her about my attendance, so I figured being there was better than not being there.
The obvious question is, why do I care?
I’m still soured on what happened last weekend at the White Party. Magnus hasn’t even mentioned it during our daily meetings for Holt Cloth & Fabric. In fact, we’ve discussed nothing but business this whole week, which has definitely kept me busy. At least that ass, Jamie will be pleased with my billable hours.
It’s kind of exciting to be the lead on taking a company from purchase all the way through a reconstruction in a way that doesn’t completely screw everyone except the owners.
It’s even more exciting doing it with Magnus. Watching him in a business setting is more thrilling than watching him at play. That man who dived off his personal boat in nothing but a speedo has nothing on the man in his office at work. We battle like two generals coming up with the best plan of action. The undercurrent of sexual energy only makes us that much more passionate.
It makes what I do for a living fun again. Scratch that, it was never fun at Douglas & Foster. Being an associate means getting the grunt work; the paper-pushing, and form creating and memo writing—long hours of boredom.
With Magnus, those long hours fly by in a way that makes you wonder where the day went. The kind that makes me not want to see an end to these forty days.
That first week of nothing but spa treatments and sightseeing almost turned my brain to mush—not that I completely hated it. It’s a good reminder that maybe I should occasionally use my vacation days.
Maybe when I make partner.
For some reason, that thought doesn’t send a triumphant rush of pleasure through me as it usually does when I imagine it finally coming to fruition. I can only attribute it to the reality of something never being as good as the wanting of it.
At any rate, my mind is officially closed for business now that it’s Saturday—a thought that has never once entered my brain. I laugh at the idea that my weekend is mine.
I spent the morning at the spa, despite it being fully booked. Being Magnus Reinhardt’s “personal guest” has its benefits. Now, I’m relaxed, and my nails, skin, and, surprisingly, hair are all on point. I suppose even in one of the top playgrounds of the wealthy, or maybe because it is labeled as such, they have to cater to all types.
After accepting his invite, Magnus had me sent to a boutique to specifically try on several gowns for this event. Based on the selection, I can only imagine it’s right up there with the Oscars as far as a dress code. I surprised myself by settling on the Dior gown of pale gauzy fabric with embroidered flowers across the bodice. It’s so much more delicate and feminine than my usual, far more severe tastes.
It’s been tailored to fit me to perfection, and I stare at myself in the long mirror of my suite admiring it. I feel like a damn princess in this thing. And any moment, Prince Charming will arrive to whisk me away to the ball.
Good grief, look at me!
I laugh at myself. Seriously, I haven’t felt this way since reading fairytales as a little girl. In the Bronx, I had to take my daydreams where I could get them.
And now, it’s a reality.
But Magnus is hardly your typical Prince Charming.
I’ll have to remember that tonight as I’m being swept away once again.
When the knock comes on my door, I literally jump.
Does the man ever operate in any mode other than “shark?”
I steady my nerves and heart, take one last look at myself in the mirror and walk over to open the door.
“Magnus.”
“Sloane.”
The way he looks at me, his eyes wandering across my dress as though drinking me up like a tall glass of iced tea on a hot summer’s day, makes me think perhaps I’m not looking for a Prince Charming after all.
“Are we going or are you going to devour me with your eyes all night?”
He grins and crooks his arm for me like a perfect damn gentleman.
I smile, roll my eyes, and take it.
“So, your aunt, Mona? Are you and she close?” I ask as he walks me toward the elevator.
“She raised my sister and me after our parents were killed. So, yes.”
“So…she’s close with Estelle too?”
I see a tiny smirk curl Magnus’s lips. “Is this your way of prying into how awkward tonight will be?”
“Not prying, I just…I think getting into the middle of family drama twice in a week is a bit much.”
Magnus waits until we’re at the elevator to turn and face me with a bemused look. “I’ve cleared the air enough for you not to have to worry.”
“Does that mean you apologized to your sister?” I ask in surprise. Honestly, Magnus seemed like the type to stubbornly dig his heels in.
“No.”
“Magnus,” I say, hearing my own disappointment.
The doors open, and he lets me walk in first.
I think about it for exactly two seconds before speaking. “I get it, you’re a control freak.”
The look he gives me is mildly admonishing, but with a hint of mocking to it.
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘if you love something, set it free?’ Yes, it’s trite to the point of being nauseating, but there’s a reason it’s quoted so often. Because it’s true. If she loves you, she’ll still want you in her life even after you give her freedom to operate how she wants to. What you’re doing? It’s a sure way to drive her away forever.”
“Thank you, oh wise one.”
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re right, it’s none of my business.”
“I wasn’t criticizing you, Sloane. You have a point. Besides, it’s time I start treating her like the adult she is. I do have to say, I was impressed that Giorgio Conti came to see me personally to make his case.”
“Really? That was sweet of him. So refreshingly old fashioned. Did he sell you on himself?”
Magnus looks thoughtful for a moment. “I think it was the way he said he loved her. A man willing to confess that so publicly, or at least with an audience, in such a heartfelt way means it’s real.”
I stare at him, wondering when he became such a romantic. I remember Estelle flinging it at him that he had never been in love before. Was that true?
The elevator arrives, and Magnus crooks his arm for me again. I take it with a smile and allow him to lead me out into the lobby of the hotel.
“Is that what your family is like? Old fashioned?”
I turn to find Magnus staring straight ahead, his face a mask of impassiveness. Still, there’s something in his eyes that has my stomach doing flip-flops. That idle question, combined with what he said before that, is almost enough to make me heady with hope. Maybe I’m not the only one who has enjoyed this past week.
“You mean, would a man have to ask my father for permission?” I ask with a laugh. “No, my dad would probably wonder what kind of woman I’ve allowed myself to become. That’s not to say he wouldn’t want me to marry someone he didn’t approve of.”
Why are we even discussing this?
Now that I’m past the swoony stage, I’m too practical to be hopeful that this is an indication of Magnus’s f
eelings for me.
What are his feelings for me?
More importantly, what exactly are my feelings for him?
“Interesting,” I hear him mutter.
Now, my head is even more filled with questions.
What’s going on here?
Chapter Fifty
Magnus
We arrive at Mona’s apartment to pick her up. She doesn’t even have a doorman, so I do the honors of ringing her from the ground floor. I have a key but, out of respect for her, I always call up first.
Above the mailboxes is a picture of Prince Albert II and Princess Charlene. When I first moved in with Mona it was still Prince Rainier III and the lovely Princess Grace. It’s one of the quirky laws of this country that I find amusing; the royal couple hangs in almost every establishment.
When we arrive at her apartment, Mona has the door open before I can even knock. Everything about this is so different from the opulence and luxury of my daily life that it’s almost refreshing. She refused to be driven to the hotel “like a piece of cattle for sale,” so here I am.
She looks so much like my mother that a dagger of pain cuts me every time I see her. Especially now that she’s older and all I can do is imagine the similarities as to what my mother would have looked like. Would she have allowed that gloriously thick, dark hair to have so many streaks of white? Would her laugh lines match those surrounding the green eyes we all inherited from my grandfather? Would that generous mouth still so easily spread into a smile?
Mona is wearing a long-sleeved, red beaded gown on her petite figure. Even in her short heels, she’s almost a foot shorter than me. This is the one time of year she allows herself to dress up, so she makes a point of going all out. The ruby earrings I bought her a few years ago—a “pointless extravagance” that she couldn’t “imagine where she’d wear them”—hang from her ears with pride.
“Magnus,” Mona greets with a smile, accepting the kiss on the cheek that I bend down to give her. She looks past me at Sloane, and her smile broadens. “And this must be our third for the night?”
The Monte Carlo Shark: An International Legacies Romance Page 24
