by TARA GALLINA
She doesn't know anything about me.
A blue Mercedes pulls up behind my car. I consider ignoring the driver and giving all my attention to Harper just to piss Marina off, but then Harper might get the wrong impression.
"Excuse me." I hold up a finger to Harper and shift my gaze to Marina.
Her car faces the exit, this time, her driver's side window rolled down, so she can talk to me. "New friend?" She shoots Harper a dirty look.
To Harper's credit, she doesn't act fazed, even though the vein in her neck is jumping with her racing pulse.
"What do you want?" I ask, emotionless.
"You know what I want." She makes her tone seductive and crooks a finger for me to come over.
I yawn.
She scoffs then her voice turns whiney. "Sebastian. We need to talk."
"If I wanted to talk to you I would, but since I haven't you should take the hint."
Harper tenses and her eyes round, but the faint smile on her face says she likes that I just dissed Marina in front of her.
Marina's gaze narrows on Harper then slides to me. "Have fun with your new skank while you can. I know who's coming into town tonight. He'll knock some sense into you, and then this charade of yours can finally end." She shoots me the bird as she drives away.
Harper finally takes a breath. "That was … interesting."
"Don't worry about her." I unlock my door and wrench it open.
Harper straightens from the car but doesn't move away. "I hope I didn't cause any problems between you and your fiancée."
"She's not my fiancée." The statement is becoming a habit. More like a wishful thought.
"No? Huh?" she murmurs and rolls her tongue in her mouth like she's considering the new information.
Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance.
"Her car is the same color as yours." Harper draws a circle on the blue paint again. "Did you two plan it that way?"
I snort. "She copied me as a present."
"That's … odd."
How astute. I give her a mocking once-over.
The moment I do, she poses, dropping a shoulder, shoving her tits forward, and puckering her lips like a duck.
It's another overdone scheme to get my attention. If I wanted, I could take her in my car right here in the parking lot and she'd love it. She's not the first girl to hit on me before, after, or during her hook-up with one of my friends. She is, however, the first friend of a girl I like to hit on me behind her back. Not that she knows I like Ainsley. Not that Ainsley knows I do either. I shouldn't care in any way. Not even to feel sorry for her, but I do.
If my father weren't expecting me at his house, I'd find a way to bring her the laptop and phone I acquired this afternoon, just to see her.
"Is Nathan having a party tonight?" Harper asks.
I shrug. "You should ask him. I gotta run anyway. Nice talking to you." I lift my chin in a nod and get in my car.
With a pout, she shuffles away in her high-heeled shoes.
I back out and take off, dreading the destination. Time to get it together. After several deep breaths, I school my features into an impassive expression, the one I'll wear all week, and shut off the part of myself that cares. I formed the alter ego years ago. It's easier to be around him when I’m Salvatore Gianni's only son and heir, instead of Sebastian Gianni, twenty-two-year-old college student who hates his life.
My father wants me to be hard and detached like him. What my father wants, he gets.
I stop at the gate to the Italian-inspired estate and press the call button. "Mr. Gianni is expecting you," says a deep-voiced male.
Sergio is my father's right-hand man. He's been with him since before I was born. I hate the guy and how he worships my father as if the man were a god. But that's the way of it in this business. To people like Sergio, and everyone who works under my father, Salvatore Gianni is a god. More like the devil.
I drive through the now-open gates and follow the driveway to where it curves around the side of the house. I park by the four-car garage and enter through a side door.
Silence follows me through the large house as I wander through the kitchen, down a long hallway, and across the ballroom-sized living room. Each room keeps with the Italian design of the exterior. My father bought the house furnished from the previous owners. He has zero attachment to this home. It's a possession like everything else in his life.
Deep voices rumble from inside the library/office. I stop outside the frosted glass doors and inhale a deep breath. Shoulders back, chin high and stubborn, I don the impassive mask I perfected years ago and knock twice.
"You may enter," Salvatore Gianni's voice sounds through the doors.
I open one and step inside. Bookcases line two walls with a fireplace in between, breaking up the mahogany. A grand desk sits in front of arched glass doors that open to the back yard and deep blue lake beyond. Dressed in a dark suit, my father stands behind the desk. Sergio is on his right. Four other men are in the room. Anthony and Paul flank the door I just entered, guarding them as if expecting an attack. The paranoia and need for constant protection stem from my grandfather who shares the same paranoia. The third, Patrizio, Sergio's right-hand man, stands a few steps back from his superior. If he's incapable of doing or getting what my father needs, he sends Patrizio to make it happen. These men have been with my father since before I was born. Where he goes, they go. My father is never alone, even if it appears that he is, he's not. The men are nearby, an earpiece call away.
It's overkill, but my father is a near replica of my grandfather and the man's lifestyle. I'm the bad apple that rolled far from the tree, to both their dismay.
My father walks around the desk to greet me. "My boy." He raises his hands, cups my neck, and kisses each cheek. The grin on his face, an older version of mine, is calculated. "You're late." He pats my cheek twice, before slapping it hard.
The gesture is an endearment only to him, another passed-down tradition from my grandfather. I don't feel the sting, stopped noticing it when I was twelve, the same time I stopped allowing my head to swing to the side with the force of his palm.
"I had class. I told you this," I reply, my gaze locked with his.
His eyes narrow with suspicion. I doubt he's even aware, the behavior is more knee-jerk than anything else.
"Yes. You did." He gestures to one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
I lower onto the right chair, the man's preferred choice, and wait for him to do the same behind the desk. Once he's tucked in, his hands folded together on top, he pins me with a harsh gaze. "What's this I hear about you still giving Marina a hard time?"
I shrug. "I'm playing hard to get. Women like that, don't they?"
He would know, having been married four times with constant women on the side.
A pleased grin eases across his chiseled face. "They do. But this one is a sure thing and annoying the fuck out of me. The only reason I didn't invite her father to this meeting is because I didn't want his daughter complaining about you to his face. It's bad enough we both get an earful of it. Handle the situation. It's best to put her in her place now, or else she might grow to think she can control you, and that would be a huge mistake on your part."
I stifle a sigh. "She's difficult." As if he doesn't know this, still I explain for the—third? Fourth? Fifth?—time. "Marina wasn't raised to be passive. A betrothal to the daughter of a rival Don—"
"Ex-rival." My father arches a brow.
"… is new territory," I continue. "You've never had to deal with this. Your brides were submissive." Some of them desperate to please him in every way.
His phone rings, distracting him. He checks the caller ID and then nods at Sergio. "Just find a way to please her until the union. I need to take this but don't go far, we're not finished." He waves for me to leave, much like you'd shoo away an annoying child.
Typical.
Sergio escorts us all from the room. If I cared a
bout my upcoming takeover of the business, I'd ask to stay. Instead, I leave and hang out in the living room, knowing he'll call us back in the minute he's finished. I’m more like a servant than a son, and life won't change much after I'm an official member-slash-boss. He won't leave my side until I do and say what he would.
Being here with him after a two month break reminds me of all I’m soon to lose. Knowing there is nothing I can do about it fuels a slow burn in my stomach that's been building for months now, with no relief in sight.
Chapter 12
My legs are asleep. I stroll across the darkened pool patio, happy to be out of that damn office. For three hours, he kept me in there going over the same shit he's gone over for the last year and a half.
Like always, I nod and appear to be interested—on the same page as him—as he drones on and on about the businesses in New York, the new night club he bought in Miami, and four pawn shops in Orlando he's now using to launder money. It's never ending, and he loves it. I'd rather build companies than use them for personal agendas.
A text comes in from Carlos.
Did you hire the girl?
Yes. I reply, wondering if she picked up the laptop and phone from Nathan's house.
I don't like it, but I'm glad we have someone to answer phones.
Me too.
I stop near the pool, not yet ready to sit down. The waterfall is off, making it quiet enough to hear the frogs and crickets in the lake at the edge of the property. Their croaking and chirping fill the night air with a steady rhythm. No breeze stirs, but the temperature is comfortable compared to the afternoon heat.
Sergio opens one of the back doors. "Your father needs to take care of a last minute issue with the Miami club. He's taking the jet but should be back by tomorrow to continue his meetings with you."
I nod. "I have to go into the body shop tomorrow to get some work done, but I'll come back here when I'm done."
"Good. Your father requires your presence throughout the rest of the week."
Like always. I raise my brows as if to convey that to Sergio.
My father's voice bellows from behind him. He appears beside Sergio, who opens the door wider for him. "Don't go far, son. I won't be gone for long. Take the time to pleasure your fiancée. Give her a good fuck. That'll keep her father off my back for a short time. I can't have you fucking this up for me. Family first." He gives a firm nod and disappears inside the house with Sergio.
Asshole. I shake my head and stare out across the massive yard and dark lake beyond. Light brightens the windows in other big houses across the lake, speckling the dark horizon.
What time is it? Midnight? Later? It feels later.
I check my phone, seeing I missed a motion sensor alert. I get texts when there's movement in my attic room.
Who the fuck is in my room? No one but Nathan is allowed to go in there. I didn't lock it because they aren't having a party tonight.
I scramble to the app and the recording from earlier.
A small figure strolls toward the bed. Even in the colorless night-vision feed, her long wavy hair is unmistakable. Ainsley. She scoops a phone from the bed and messes around on it before doing the same with a laptop.
I groan. Nathan was supposed to bring those downstairs for her. No wonder she couldn't find them.
I can't stand people snooping in my room, but Ainsley doesn’t evoke my frustration. Instead, it intrigues me. She doesn't snoop or dig through my drawers. Not that she'd find anything. I'm too careful about that. Instead, she sits on my bed and sets the laptop on her thighs.
The recording is long, but I can't bring myself to fast-forward to the end. Lowering onto an outdoor lounge chair, I get comfortable, curious to see what she does next.
For thirty minutes, she stays in my room, on my bed, reading and doing who-knows-what on the work laptop I provided for her.
Seeing her comfortable in my room stirs more foreign sensations in my chest. The desire to protect her from everything and anything, the urge to lie her back on the bed and trace every inch of that perfect little body with my lips. Would she tense up or would she relax into my touch?
Would she want more?
My cock stirs in my pants. Thoughts like this will only get me in trouble. She works for me now, and even if she didn't, she isn't the kind of girl I should drag into a world like mine—even if it is temporary. A fun fling.
Maybe I should call Marina and use her to release this sexual energy. She'd want it, come willingly, and my father would be happy. But since the man isn't interested in my happiness or what I want, I decide against it. Pleasing Marina means pleasing him. I do enough of that already.
I close out of the recording and app and pull up a few favorited contacts. Four names of sure-things are listed. Two girls, I met through Nathan. Two I know and used to hook up with in New York. My father moved them down here for my convenience. I haven't called either of the girls in two months. I don't know why. I’m a sexual person—what guy my age isn't?
I hover my thumb over Sasha's name.
The motion alert goes off again. Holy shit. Is she still in there?
I bring up the new recording of my room.
The desk light is off, but it's on a timer. The feed has infrared vision, so I can still see. The room is empty. No, wait. Is that Ainsley?
Now she's lying on my bed with the laptop on the mattress beside her. Her long hair is splayed around her head in wild curls and her hand rests on her stomach. Is she sleeping?
She looks like an angel, so sweet and innocent, and beautiful. After moments of watching her like a stalker—then again, it's my room she's in, my bed—I close the app and text Nathan.
I'm stopping by the house. There's a cute little blonde in my room. No need for alarm. She went up there to find the work laptop and phone. Don’t let anyone know she's up there.
I’m in my car by the time he replies.
Sorry man. I forgot to put them out. Harper's here and I got distracted. Are you sure you're cool with Ainsley being up there?
It's fine. Leave her, and don’t tell Harper.
The last part I add on a hunch. Harper was hitting on me hard earlier today. Not sure if Nathan knows or cares, but I have a feeling she wouldn't like Ainsley in my room on my bed.
In less than ten minutes, I pull into the driveway of Nathan's house. Before going in, I check the camera feed to the foyer, second-floor landing by my room, and my bedroom.
All are clear, except for my room, where Ainsley sleeps peacefully.
With the app on my phone, I unluck the front door and quietly slip inside. I stop to listen for voices to get a sense of where Nathan might be and regret it the moment Harper steps into the foyer.
She must have been in the nearby bathroom. Dammit.
"Sebastian?" she says, surprised to see me, as she should be.
"Harper." I give her a tight nod. "Where's Nathan?"
"Talking to Riley out back." She saunters over. "Why? Are you feeling lonely?" She walks her fingers up my arm.
"Not at all." I raise my brows to her open flirtation. "What's up with you and Nathan?"
"Nothing, according to him. We're casual. Nothing special." Her tone suggests bitterness. "But you’re here now, and you're the one I always wanted so…" She leans in and licks my neck.
Shock freezes me. I didn't expect her to come on to me with more than words with Nathan being here.
"Let's stop playing games," she purrs and rubs her hand over my dick. "I want you, you don't have a girlfriend, and I'm lonely." Her lips cover mine, snapping me from my shock.
I step back and remove her hand from my crotch. "Not interested." I shift my gaze to Nathan, who just appeared through the archway to the foyer. "Does this belong to you?"
Harper whirls around, but the smile on her face says she's glad he saw her. "This most certainly does not belong to him."
He rolls his eyes and steps toward her. "You didn't give me a chance to explain. And considering I just found you with
your hand on my bro's dick, I think we're even."
"I thought that's what you wanted," she fires back, her hands planted on her hips. "You said, and I quote, 'I wouldn't care if you rubbed on another guy.'"
"Another guy doesn't mean my fucking roommate and best friend. Shit, Harper. I’m fucking furious right now."
I raise my hands and inch around them toward the stairs. "I don't want nothing to do with her. I swear."
"I know man, forget it." He waves a hand at me as he opens the front door. To Harper he says, "You should have let me explain before you stormed off. Now, you need to get out. Go home and cool off, and maybe I'll explain what I meant tomorrow."
"You did this to yourself," Harper snarls then whips around, her maple hair swinging behind her as she exits the house.
He slams the door.
I glance up to my bedroom. Did he just wake up Ainsley?
"I didn't flirt with her. You know me better than that," I say to a fuming Nathan.
"I'm not pissed at you, man. I'm just … I'm frustrated as fuck." He punches a nearby wall and shakes out his hand. "I don't trust her with good reason, but my dick can't seem to get that message." He gestures to his crotch and runs a hand through his hair and winces. "Fuck, that hurt." He cups his knuckles. "I'm getting some ice."
I'm at the top of the stairs when the door opens and Harper stomps in. Her gaze locks on mine. "I need my friend."
"Who?" I play dumb.
"Your new employee." She rolls her eyes. "Forget it. I'll find her myself."
She stalks toward the archway that leads to the kitchen, and Nathan. Seeing her again is the last thing he wants. I hurry down the stairs and cut her off. "She's passed out in the game room."
Her brows tighten. "How do you know?"
"Nathan."
"How does he know? He was with me most of the time."
"Riley told him. I left her work stuff in the game room. He said she found it, read a lot on the laptop and then passed out."
Her eyes flitter as if she's working this out in her head. "Explains why she disappeared."
Like she cares or even noticed. I saw enough on the camera feed to know that.
