His Dirty Demands

by Fiona Murphy

  “I think so. She told me I would be knee-deep in reports for rents, sales, and prospective properties.”

  “Did she make it clear the hours are a little different? There will be times I will need you to accompany Cesare or me for business dinners or breakfast meetings. Hannah’s normal time in and out is from seven when Cesare comes in, then she’s out at four. She will cover the working lunches. She’s also willing to work late from time to time with the clear line she is firmly out the door no later than five thirty. She feels she has paid her dues in that regards. Considering she’s been with us for over twelve years, Cesare agrees with her. It’s the reason why you’ll have a monthly clothing allowance.”

  “Jeanine told me, it’s not a problem. The clothing allowance is appreciated. I don’t have a wardrobe I think would be up to standards. I don’t have much of a life,” I admit without embarrassment. I like my life the way it is, and I’m not ashamed of it. “While I do have a dog who won’t be ecstatic about me getting home late, I have a neighbor who will be willing to take care of him on late nights.”

  “No family or significant other?” His dark brown eyes are soft with concern.

  I shrug. “I have a little sister. She’s at the University of Illinois in Urbana. Bethany is in her last year and will be going into a demanding Physician Assistant program. Even the undergrad is an intensive program. I don’t see her as often as either of us would like. As far as a significant other, not right now. I’ve been busy with my little sister and work.”

  “Busy with your sister?”

  After so many years, it was easier to speak of the past. Or maybe it’s the way I feel comfortable with Dante in a way I have never felt with anyone before. Today feels completely bizarre, the instant attraction to Cesare and now this instant comfort with Dante. “My mother wasn’t interested in being a mom, so she dropped us off on my grandmother when I was ten, and my little sister was four. My grandmother wasn’t happy about it. The only reason she agreed to keep us was she got paid for taking care of us as a foster parent. She told me I was responsible for taking care of myself and my sister.” His eyebrows go up, and I shrug. “It was how I’d been living for years. At least with my grandmother there was always food in the house, and heat.

  “When I was eighteen my grandmother kicked me because she wasn’t getting money for my care anymore. My little sister freaked and demanded to come with me. I managed to get a job and find a compassionate roommate who let me and my sister live in one room. At least college was covered because I was a former foster kid. Between school and work and my sister, I didn’t have time for anything else. Now with Bethany in school, I still need to make quilts as a side income to cover what financial aid doesn’t, as she isn’t able to take out loans. I don’t have many free hours.”

  “Your character is as impressive as your resume.” He leans back in his chair as he studies me. “I will warn you, I’m demanding. I’m not patient. There are many times when I’m thoughtless and care more for myself than others. I’m selfish. I’m none of these things with malice, but I am them. I will do my best to make up for my faults in ways that are easy for me, with the firm belief money makes everything better. If you have a problem, you need to tell me. Don’t do the everything-is-fine when it isn’t because frankly, I don’t care enough to keep asking. I can’t promise I won’t make the same mistake again, but at least I will know what is bothering you.”

  He laughs as my eyes widen at his unapologetic honesty. “Have I scared you away?”

  I’m not in the least bit intimidated—he reminds me of Zack when I first started working for him. “Not at all, I’m used to dealing with men who deem themselves more important than everyone else around them.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “I think you’ll do just fine handling my brother and me. If I’m bad, he’s worse. Luckily for you, Cesare is Hannah’s to put up with, although as I mentioned you’ll fill in for her from time to time. I will demand your commitment and fidelity completely. In return, I will provide you with support, and the salary and benefits better than any Fortune 500 company out there. What do you say? Are you in?”

  I consider his words and the way my life will change by working for him, doing my best to ignore the way my pulse beat faster at the idea of seeing and being around Cesare Sabatini every day. I nod. “I’m in.”

  “Good, you start Monday. I’ll leave it to Jeanine to get you squared away.”

  2

  Cesare

  Harry Walters slaps me on the back, again, to punctuate his last statement. I imagine returning the slap with a punch to his mouth to get him to shut the hell up. I’m not in the mood to listen to Harry’s grating laughter for another fucking sixty seconds. The only reason I took the time to meet with him was to find out if his need to fend off a recent takeover attempt was a one-time thing or if he was still floundering financially. From his inability to lie well, I’m laying money on him losing it all within the next ninety days. This was a waste of my time.

  I shake off his hand, it upsets his balance that in his drunken haze is already off, and he goes down in a heap. With a sigh, I call his office and tell his assistant to have someone come and get him. A nod brings the waitress over. I settle the bill, giving her a generous tip. Something to go toward putting up with Harry’s lecherous taunts of the woman as she served us.

  Turning away from Walters, my mind immediately goes back to the delicious memory of Alicia Jeffries. Curvy, sexy as fuck Alicia Jeffries, who looked at me like she wanted to lick me from head to toe. I wonder what it is about her that had me staring, considering she is pretty, not beautiful. Her oval of a face is a classic cameo highlighted by high round cheekbones, with a thin classic nose over wide soft lips. I didn’t like the fine lines already showing across her forehead, they indicated stress, but I liked the lines around her mouth showing she smiled often, freely. Her smile up at me had me fighting the urge to smile back. It’s her eyes that are arresting, capturing my attention and not letting me go. They are a bright amber, that shimmer with emotion going from gold to soft chocolate in seconds. The moment I locked eyes with her I wondered what they would like while I was buried deep inside her.

  Alicia Jeffries made my cock hard the moment I laid eyes on her. In an instant, I wanted to take her hard and fast in the elevator, up against the wall, dirty, sweaty, and rough as I sucked deep on that lush bottom lip her teeth were torturing. I saw it in the blink of an eye, my hand in that long, silky, bittersweet chocolate hair, pulling it back to display her neck for my mouth to mark up that pretty glowing, golden skin with my teeth and tongue. Those long legs encased in leather boots wrapped around my waist, her breasts thick and heavy in my mouth. Then her ass, fucking hell that ass... I shift in the back of the car as my cock strains all over again at the idea of filling my hands with her ass as I pound deep inside her.

  Then just as I was calculating how long it would take to get her back to my place, she tossed a bucket of cold water on me with her words. She is going to be Dante’s assistant. Fuck. The first rule when it comes to employees is: we don’t shit where we eat. Our staff is strictly off-limits. Until today, it’s never been a problem. There were always more than enough women outside the office to choose from. Hell, we’ve both had more women than most men daydream about. Ever since we hit multimillionaire status more than ten years ago, we’ve been drowning in pussy. Once we hit billion a few years ago, there were women willing to do whatever it took to snag a billionaire. Why the fuck did the first woman in years to make my cock hard enough it felt like it was going to break have to be my little brother’s new assistant?

  Even though I told myself not to bother asking all the way up in the elevator, I’m in Dante’s office without knocking. “Che, the fuck?”

  “You hired her.” It’s not a question. I know the answer. I’m hoping for once I’m wrong.

  His head goes back against his chair. “Of course, I hired her. Jeanine knows what she’s doing by picking Alicia. Shit, don�
�t look like that, Che. No, man, she’s my assistant. Find someone else.”

  I stalk the length of his office. As much as the answer threatens to sting, I cling to the hope of it being another reason to keep my distance. “Does she have a man?”

  It’s clear he’s considering lying until he meets my eyes, he knows he can’t lie to me. “No, she’s single.” Shaking his head, he sighs. “Che, come on. Alicia Jeffries is pretty enough, but she’s nothing special. Give it a few days. There are still plenty of other women out there. Your problem is you go too long without a woman. It’s been weeks since that Hailey chick. You want to go out tonight and find someone to take your mind off Alicia?”

  For the first time in years, I want to send my fist into Dante’s face, to make him bleed. To keep from doing it, I leave while I still can, slamming his door then mine hard enough to rattle the doorframes. Goddamnit. Dante could be so fucking stupid sometimes. Fucking a woman to slake a desire for another is repulsive. My jaw aches from grinding my teeth. The view from the wall of glass that usually soothes me barely registers.

  Closing my eyes, I see her again, taunting me with that absurdly shy smile at odds with the hunger I saw in her eyes—those big amber eyes sparkling like a fine port—then felt as those eyes slid down my body. Christ, her hunger was a palpable thing that surprised me as much as it had her. I’m sure it’s why I ache for her even now. Her desire was honest and pure, it wasn’t manufactured to capture my attention. It’s a rare thing to be so overtaken with need. Lust is a powerful thing, but it will fade soon enough.

  Maybe Dante is right about my going too long between women. It’s common for me to go weeks, sometimes even months without a woman. I will not marry, I will not make the same mistakes my father made. As such, I’m always honest with a woman about my lack of intention beyond a casual sexual encounter. While there were women who tried to change my mind, there were just as many women who were content with a few days or weeks of nothing more than sex.

  My phone beeps before Hannah’s voice comes through, asking if I’m available for Decker Holt. I’ve been waiting for the call back from Holt for days. With a sigh, I press the intercom and tell her to send him through. Stewing over what I can’t change isn’t going to help. As an employee, Alicia is off-limits. After a few days, maybe a few weeks, tops, I’ll get over my attraction to her. As Dante said, she’s nothing special.

  ***

  There’s no knock before my door opens. Dante, asshole. Looking up from the contract I’m going through, I see at least the fucker is carrying food. He doesn’t even look my way as he takes the large paper bag to the seating area and begins unpacking it. When he pulls out a bottle of wine, I tag the page I’m on to come back to tomorrow. I lost my jacket a few hours ago. Now I tug down my tie then undo a few buttons before removing my cuff links, dropping them in my pockets and rolling up my sleeves.

  Dante is already comfortable: jacket, button-down shirt, and tie are long gone. He’s down to his undershirt and pants, even his shoes are nowhere to be seen. If Dante could he’d walk around in his boxers—he’s never been one for being confined. Opening up the first container, I find calamari; I open one small cup of marinara sauce for me, then the other for him before sliding it to his side of the table. I find my dinner, veal and fettuccine, as Dante opens his spaghetti carbonara.

  While I open the bottle of wine, he snags glasses off the bar where I have decanters of whiskey, brandy, port, and vodka. He hands me his glass, and I fill it before filling my own.

  “Enzo?” I ask as I sit. Enzo’s office is four stories down, leased at a family discounted rate. Our evenings usually end with all three of us having dinner together before going home. While we often have it delivered, every once in a while Dante demands we get the hell out of the office so we go out for dinner. Dante’s condo is on the same floor as mine, in a building we own on Michigan Avenue. Enzo has a condo in another building only a few blocks from us. Considering Enzo isn’t joining us, I’m surprised Dante ordered in until I catch the time. It’s almost eight thirty.

  “Brenda.” Dante rolls his eyes. “She is putting him through the paces, dinner out and she’s hinting at wanting her own credit card. I don’t know why he doesn’t just go back to doing the sugar baby thing. It’s much simpler with those women. Maybe you should go back to the site—you never really gave it a chance. You met one woman, once.”

  I don’t bother to respond. I hate the idea of the sugar baby setup Dante tried and liked enough that almost all his dealings with women are through the site. Enzo has had varying successes with the women on the site. Shaking my head, I sip at the wine to wash away the bitter thoughts. My way might mean less sex, but I’m fine with it. While in my twenties I didn’t consider it a good night unless it ended in sex, for the last few years I’ve become more selective and discriminating in regards to whom I fuck. Now at thirty-eight, a woman for a week or two every few weeks leaves me content.

  From the corner of my eye, I watch Dante rub his forefinger over his eyebrow. I stiffen in preparation. It’s a tell he has that he’s about to lie.

  “I was thinking about Alicia Jeffries. Maybe I was too quick to hire her. After looking over her background report a little more thoroughly, I’m concerned with her financial situation.”

  I don’t take the bait, keeping my face void of expression. “Do what you think is best,” I murmur as I twirl the pasta around my fork before lifting it to my mouth.

  Dante’s forehead furrows. “Her credit is atrocious. Apparently, her mother uses Alicia’s and her sister's social security numbers and personal information to open accounts then doesn’t pay them. Years ago she opened credit cards and took out loans; it took years and Alicia pressing charges against her mother to get them removed. While both women have locked their credit so no more lines of credit can be opened, it hasn’t stopped the mother from littering the country with unpaid rent and utility bills. Considering she’ll have access to almost half a billion dollars at the tip of her fingertips, I’m wondering if Ms. Jeffries would be able to ignore temptation.”

  My jaw stiffens at the idea of her own mother damaging Alicia’s livelihood and reputation with casual disregard. Forcing a deep breath, I pick through the calamari. “She will be your assistant, your responsibility. It’s up to you.”

  His sherry brown eyes glitter. “I spoke with Diego. He dug deep as he was concerned as well, yet believes her to be a trustworthy person who had access to funds in her previous position without there ever being a hint of impropriety. However, there’s a difference between a few grand and a few hundred million. Who knows what she might do? What do you think?”

  Taking a swallow of wine, I shrug. “I think I don’t give a fuck.”

  The fucker laughs. “Really? The vein in your forehead says differently. I was thinking after you slammed out of my office in a snit, between the time she came up in the elevator and you getting into the car downstairs you couldn’t have possibly had more than five minutes with the woman. So I got on the phone and spoke with Debbie at the front desk. She told me it was less than three minutes. You barely said a dozen words to Alicia—I believe the expression was ‘intense eye-fucking’ happened, then you were gone. Tell me, Che, what was it about Alicia Jeffries that got your boxers in a twist?”

  I shake my head as I chew on the rubbery calamari. “Whatever it was doesn’t matter. Hire her, don’t. I don’t care what you do. I’ll stay the hell away from her, and within a week or two it will have faded until I won’t remember.”

  “I’m sure you think you won’t. Me, I’m laying odds on something a little different.” He sips his wine. I ignore his raised eyebrow. The sigh should have told me it was coming. I know the sigh: from deep inside his soul the air escapes, weak, tired, filled with longing. “You’re really not going to even take a chance? Dad fucked up, but you’re going to pay the price for it.”

  Twirling pasta around my fork, I don’t bother looking up. It’s been almost four years since we had this conve
rsation, I think her name was Donna, or maybe it was Dana. The time before that it was six years ago, her name was Vivian, and she had legs that went on forever. “Let it go, Dante.”

  He doesn’t listen. “Dad did the crime, you do the time. It’s going to be twenty years this year. Don’t tell me you aren’t counting down the days. I’ve been dreaming of it. Sometimes I dream I was there when he did it. I’ll dream I see him shooting Mom and the boyfriend before he shoots himself. Other times I dream it never happened, that Mom was never a faithless woman who cheated on her husband for almost ten years before she finally found a man who could give her the more expensive life she wanted and left without even telling her children goodbye. That Dad hadn’t already been told to find a new job before he was fired, and knowing he was losing the job he loved and the woman he loved sent him over a cliff no one knew he had. If he still had his job when Mom left, would he have done it? I want to believe he wouldn’t have.

  “You did it, Cesare—you built something so big and so fucking valuable no one is going to take this away from you. No one can kick down this castle. Why can’t you even try to let yourself be happy with a woman? They aren’t all faithless. You look like Dad, but you are not him. I don’t understand why you don’t believe in yourself the way I do.”

  I wipe my mouth as I put my plate down, appetite gone. “I’m not going to talk about this with you again. I’ve told you my thoughts; it does no good to bring them up again. I’m content with my life as it is.”

  Dante’s plate hits the table with a clang. “You’re such a fucking liar.”

  With a curse, he’s up and gone in a flurry of movement I barely take in before my office door is slamming shut. With a sigh, I sink on the couch as I let my head fall back. Why couldn’t he let it go? I have, really.