by Shanna Bell
“I had no idea you felt this way.”
Gina snorted. “Of course you didn’t. All you care about is your precious laptop. We are going to lose everything if one of us doesn’t marry this man. Maybe you can, but I won’t be this selfish. I will never be granted total freedom anyway, so I have a simple choice to make. If I’m going to live in a golden cage for the rest of my life, I would like it to be a nice one, the best one. Gina Rossi doesn’t do poverty.”
And of course, it was no hardship to marry the man. Giovanni Detta was hot after all. He seemed to have cold eyes, but from Gina’s point of view, his net worth would more than make up for that. Gina would consider him an upgrade from her latest ex, a stock market millionaire.
She supposed Gina did have a point, from a practical standpoint. With their background, no ordinary man would survive their family and all that came with it. Their grandfather reminded them, all too often, about how they could be used as leverage against him. How they could end up getting hurt if a deal went wrong. Hence the “you need to marry into a strong family” mantra. Something she would have called him on, if her uncle hadn’t been killed in a hit and run years ago.
“Gina, please,” Mary chimed in from across the hall. “I’d think you would be glad. After all, this way, there’s less competition for you.” She winked at Jazzy, in a clear attempt to lighten the mood.
“Right.” Gina’s look said she didn’t consider Jazzy competition whatsoever. With a confident smile on her face, she turned and went upstairs.
Gina was right, of course. After all, Gina looked like an Italian goddess: tall, with blond, glossy, curly hair, and packaged in a designer dress. Jazzy, on the other hand, curvy, with her ragged skinny jeans, and biker boots, didn’t exactly fit the profile of a high-society wife.
“How are you holding up?” Mary asked as she came up to her. “I haven’t seen much of you after Mike’s funeral.”
“I’m fine.” She didn’t want to discuss the aftermath of her friend’s death. There wasn’t anything to discuss. He’d lived, got caught by the cruel monster called cancer, and had died. The world had lost a light; the universe, a star. Yet scum like Carmen’s husband got to live a full and healthy life. There was no justice in the world sometimes.
Mary gave her a pensive look. “You always say you are.”
“So, what about you? Do you want me to get you out of here?” Jazzy asked jokingly, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. She knew Mary would never shirk her duty—and that was the way she saw it—and leave. But if she did, Jazzy would find a way to get her out of the mansion before dinner. She had seen the cars arriving from a distance. Right now, the men were discussing business in the library. They still had about an hour. It wouldn’t be too hard to sneak past them, without ever even having to come face to face with Detta.
“Actually, I want to stay.” Mary’s cheeks turned pink. “See where this goes.”
“You do?” Jazzy asked, unable to hide her surprise.
“I’m not like you,” Mary said softly. “I just want to be a mom, have a family. And maybe he is the one. Maybe not. But I would like the chance to find out.”
“But think of the life you’d have as the wife of a man like Giovanni Detta,” Jazzy warned. “Surely he has enemies. No one becomes a billionaire at his age without some skeletons in his closet. You would have a security detail everywhere you went, for the rest of your life.” Also, she had a feeling that a man like that would have a tight leash on his wife.
Mary cocked a brow. “Don’t we already have one?”
“Yeah, but that’s because of Nonno. If you would marry someone outside of this world, you wouldn’t need bodyguards anymore. You would be free.” At least, that’s the way she envisioned her life.
“I like the security they give me,” Mary confessed, her eyes going to the scar on Jazzy’s wrist. The scar that had nearly cost her the use of her arm. “I need to feel safe. Ever since that night… if it hadn’t been for you, Jazzy—”
“Please don’t mention that night,” she cut her off.
“Sorry.” Mary immediately looked contrite.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I just don’t want to talk about it.” Ever.
“You never do.” Mary sighed.
“So, um, how’s the counseling going?” Jazzy asked, feeling obligated to ask about it, though a part of her really didn’t want to.
Mary immediately perked up. “Quite well, actually. I mean, what happened was over a decade ago, and I still have a lot to process, but I’m getting there. I wish you would go see Dr. Stein as well, instead of bottling everything up. In fact, he asked about you and how you were handling it. I mean, I know I wasn’t to blame for—”
“Of course you weren’t. You were just a kid.”
“So were you, Jazzy. So were you. I think sometimes you forget that.”
It wasn’t that she forgot, per se. She just hadn’t really been a kid since her parents had died the day before her tenth birthday. And the irony of it was, that it hadn’t been by a hit by one of the other families. In fact, it had nothing to do with her father or grandfather’s business. There was nothing to blame but bad weather conditions for the car crash that had killed them. That, however, had made Jazzy all the more determined to keep whatever family she had left.
Speaking of remaining family, her grandfather just turned around the corner. She peeked over his shoulder, curious if Detta trailed after him, but that was not the case. When her nonno’s gaze roamed over her sweaty workout gear, she expected him to scold her. He surprised her though, by gesturing her to him, and not saying a word.
“I was going to change before dinner,” she muttered. She didn’t want him to think she would disrespect him like that, showing up in front of his guests all sweaty.
“I need something from the safe. Please get me my pocket watch.”
“Really? Right now?”
Him sending her to his almost prehistoric safe had started when she’d hurt her arm. The blade that had cut through her wrist had done some nerve damage, almost causing her to lose strength in her arm. A long and gruesome healing process had followed. Her grandfather, being the ornery man he was, had played a big part in her regaining that strength. Any normal grandfather would have given her a ball to pinch. Hers had taught her how to open a safe, over and over again, until she had rebuilt the muscle power she had lost. Every now and then, he still sent her to open the safe with the heavy bolt on it. It had become their thing.
“Yes, Jocelyn. Now.”
She knew that tone. It meant she wasn’t going to win this argument.
CHAPTER 3
JAZZY
Dinner would be served in less than an hour and Jazzy still had to take a shower, but apparently that wasn’t important. Maybe him sending her doing their thing was his way of telling her that the upcoming dinner would be okay.
“Fine.” She left her grandfather in the hallway and climbed up the stairs, making a right until she reached the library in the upper right wing.
She didn’t bother to turn on the lights as she walked in the darkened room. Nowadays, she could open the safe blind, in less than a minute.
Thirty seconds later, a personal record for her, she got the pocket watch out and shut the vault.
“Yes!” She did a fist pump.
“Put it back.”
Jazzy jumped up and slowly turned around, looking to where the voice had come from. There, in the corner, in a chair overlooking the yard, sat a man. She couldn’t make out much of his face since the light came from behind him, obscuring half his face.
“Excuse me?”
He got up from the chair, standing into the light, and she stifled a gasp when she recognized him.
Giovanni Detta was a tall man. Much taller than she would have expected from the picture she’d seen on the screen of her phone. The picture didn’t do him justice. Then again, maybe no photo could grasp his magnetic look, with shocking blue eyes. She instantly
suffered from a case of lust at first sight.
“Whatever it is you stole from that safe, put it back. Now. Or I will make you.”
And just like most hot, gorgeous men, he was an arrogant prick. It was the ordering tone in his voice that had her hackles rising. The way he just expected her obedience. It was the way Franco spoke to her sister. Cold and commanding.
Who the hell did he think he was, giving her orders in her own home? She could, of course, easily diffuse the situation by telling him who she was, but... she didn’t want to. Fuck him, and men like him, thinking they were king of the world.
“You can’t make me do a damn thing, pretty boy.”
His eyes narrowed as he stalked toward her. Oh, he so didn’t like to be called pretty.
She shoved the watch inside her sports bra and stepped away from the safe. It could never hurt to create some space, just in case she needed to kick his ass.
“I don’t like to repeat myself.” His tongue spewed more icicles her way.
“Good to know,” she scoffed, and put her hands on her hips.
“You are going to regret this.” He pointedly took position in front of the door.
“Doubtful.”
With her sister’s battered body fresh in her mind, she lunged at him, colliding with his hard body.
Unfortunately, Giovanni Detta didn’t go down the way she had expected. Instead, he made some weird ass street fighter move, and she ended up on her ass.
He towered over her in his expensive Italian suit.
“Stay down.”
It wasn’t so much as what he said, but the chill in his voice that had her taken aback.
“I can’t stand thieves, especially when stealing from their boss, but maybe Antonio will take pity on you.”
“Yeah well, I can’t stand arrogant assholes,” she replied, jumping back on her feet. “Also, I don’t need anyone’s pity.” She’d had enough of that during the year she feared losing the use of her arm. Everyone around her treating her like an invalid. That is, everyone but her grandfather. Antonio Rossi didn’t do pity. According to him, either you conquered your fear, or your fear conquered you.
The second time she attempted to get past him, she tried a different tactic. She saw the surprise in his eyes, when she slowly walked up to him and put a hand on his chest.
“How about you let me go and I don’t hurt you?” She gently tapped his shoulder.
Other than his nostrils flaring, he didn’t show any outward emotion. His arctic blues were just as frosty as before.
“Never make a threat you can’t deliver, bella.”
There was a rasp to his voice that had her skin tingling. Oh, his voice; it was dark, sensual, and smooth as silk. The kind that would have her splayed at his feet if she were as shallow as to only care about his beautiful exterior. Because that, he was. He had the whole tall, dark, and handsome look going for him. The only imperfection on him was the scar on his left brow which, to her, made him all the more perfect. However, beauty on the outside meant nothing if your insides were rotten.
Jazzy gave him a sweet smile and raised her knee. He blocked her kick that should have landed in his nuts, and spun her around. Her back pressed against his chest, his arm around her neck. She was trapped, or so he thought.
She dropped her legs, making herself heavy, and felt him keel over. Using his moment of surprise, she pulled back his thumb, almost breaking it, and he let her go with a curse. She stepped back, and planted a kick to his stomach, making him slam against the door. The same door she wanted to get through. It was time for Giovanni Detta to go down.
The second time she tried to knee him in the balls, he ducked, grabbed her leg and twisted it, making her lose her balance.
She ended up on her back with him on top of her, the breath pressed from her lungs. He was effectively using his bulk to keep her pinned to the floor.
“Get off of me!” Jazzy tried to kick him off her, but he felt like he weighed a ton.
He pressed his hand on her throat, effectively cutting off any further protest from her lips. Her heart beat like a drum, freezing her limbs, and a buzz started in her ears.
Breathe in…
Breathe out…
Images of another time, in another room flashed before her eyes. She closed her eyes and counted to ten to regain her composure.
“I don’t take orders, bella, I give them.”
When Jazzy reopened her eyes—after counting to at least sixty—she found Detta watching her, a curious expression on his face. He had placed both his hands next to her head, holding her down with pure muscle. Oddly, her fear dissipated the second she looked into his eyes. He was watching her mouth, the same way she was looking at his sensual lips. Could a man even be described as having sensual lips? She had no idea. Her breath hitched, and she felt her body relax, as if deep down—in her core—she knew he wasn’t going to hurt her. She felt a slight disappointment that he had bested her, but more than that, she felt heat. Overwhelming, confusing heat, covering her from her head to her dainty toes. And judging by the growing bulge against her stomach, she wasn’t the only one affected.
Whatever he saw in her eyes made him curse. “Don’t move. Unless you want me to give you what your body is asking for.”
The arrogant prick!
He slid his hand inside her bra—his finger accidentally on purpose brushing over a stiff nipple—and pulled out the pocket watch.
Right. The watch he believed she had stolen. She’d almost forgotten about the reason she had ended up in this position in the first place.
She was just about to bite him in the chin—’cause really, what other option had she left—when the door opened, and Mary walked in. Her cousin gasped when she found Jazzy on the floor, Gio on top of her, holding her down.
“Oh my God, what—”
“Mary, finally. Could you tell this asshole I’m Mr. Rossi’s personal assistant and that I’m allowed to open his safe? In fact, that I do it all the time?”
His hot gaze raked over her barely-covered chest and a smirk curled his lips. “His PA?”
Her cousin cleared her throat. “Um, yes, she’s allowed to take things from the safe all the time.”
Mary couldn’t lie to save her life.
“That’s right.” Jazzy tried to wriggle from underneath him, but he was unmovable, like a rock. “I’m his right hand.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re just like his right hand.”
It took her a second to understand what he was insinuating. Gross.
He cocked a brow at the disgusted look she gave him, but then finally rolled off her.
The second he stepped away from her, Jazzy crawled back to her feet and fled the room, not caring about the watch anymore. She all but ran to her bedroom, getting her backpack from her closet.
Passport. Check.
Phone. Check.
Pile of cash. Check.
There was no way she was getting through a dinner with Giovanni Detta. She had a really bad feeling about him, and the way he had looked at her. The man might choose her just to spite her. Which just wouldn’t do. In the infamous words of Gaga; I’m a free bitch, baby.
She had places to go, promises to fulfill. Come hell or high water, she was going to finish Mike’s bucket list. And there was no time like the present.
CHAPTER 4
GIO
Gio sat across the dining table from Antonio Rossi. Vince was chatting up Gina, though she clearly saw him more as a nuisance. He had to hand it to her, she was keeping her eyes on the prize; unlike most women, who made a giggling fool of themselves when they got Vince’s full attention.
The other granddaughter, Mary, sat across from him, barely meeting his eyes. She was a shy little thing; preferred to listen instead of talk. Still, something was missing. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was wrong with this picture.
“Where’s your other granddaughter? Jocelyn.” The smart one.
The conversations at the table came to a hal
t.
Even though Gio didn’t consider Jocelyn a serious candidate, it was still an insult that she’d stayed away. He waited for Antonio to make up an excuse for her absence. A migraine, having the flu, anything.
Antonio put down his wine. “I was told that Jocelyn left the premises about an hour ago. Something about discovering the world before she got snatched up by an arrogant billionaire.”
Gio had a feeling the old man was quoting the last part. “So, she suddenly decided to take a trip around the world, did she now?”
It almost seemed as if Antonio was baiting him, which didn’t make any sense. The old man had more to lose, if this deal fell through, than Gio did.
“Girls, leave us.”
He felt Gina stiffen next to him while Mary turned a chalky white. However, they left the room without a protest.
Gio made a mental note about that. They were perfect on the outside. Willing, obedient, pretty. Still… His thoughts trailed back to the mouthy PA in the library. Mary’s cheeks had turned pink when she’d called her Antonio’s PA, and Gio had a feeling she knew exactly what kind of personal assistant the hellcat was to her grandfather. Apparently, Antonio’s much younger mistress was living right under their noses. Damn, he envied the sly fox. Which brought him back to the case at hand, and more particularly, to the reason why he wasn’t enthused by the thought of marrying either of the present Rossi girls. He didn’t want to fuck them. Which made him reconsider looking at what was behind door number three: Jocelyn. He never made a choice in business without having considered all his options, and he wouldn’t start now.
