by S. J. Tilly
“Yes.”
He answers with one rough word.
Then with the phone pressed to his ear, his jacket draped over his arm, used condom in hand, he unlocks the door and walks out of the office.
Not once does he look at me. Not a glance. Not a nod. Not a word.
What. The. Fuck.
Seriously, what the fuck just happened?
I keep a hand on the desk as I stand up fully. Unwilling to acknowledge why I feel so shaken.
I brush a hand down the skirt of my dress. Then I do it again, swallowing down the emotions that are threatening to break free.
I’m embarrassed at how tight my throat feels. I’ve never felt more used in all my life. I know it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have just thrown myself at the man. I shouldn’t have believed that we had a real connection. I should have trusted my first instincts. That man is the goddamn Devil.
CHAPTER TEN
SASHA
“C
an you put a few ice cubes in there for me?” I ask.
“You know that ruins the whole flavor profile, right? We’ve worked hard to get the perfect roast to brew ratio.” Benny sighs as he gently puts a small handful of ice into my large cup of coffee.
“I know, Benny. And I promise to drink extra coffee next time to make up for my crimes. But I have an important meeting this morning and I’m running on about three hours of sleep.”
“Ouch.” He winces in sympathy.
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I need to internalize this caffeine as quickly as possible.”
Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I let the familiar scents calm my nerves.
There are some shops that still have chimes above their doors, but BeanBag is a little different. Whenever the door is opened, the motion sets off a rain stick that’s been filled with coffee beans. The sound is quiet but always makes me smile. That quirk alone is reason enough to come here, but the real reason I’m a regular is because they make the best coffee in all of Minneapolis. Benny is an especially talented barista. He might be a super hipster, but he knows how to work a latte. And lucky for me, BeanBag is just a block away from my apartment. Extra lucky is that I happen to live only a few blocks from Mazzanti Enterprises.
“You’re forgiven this one cup of bastardized coffee.” Benny gives me a slight bow as he extends the drink over the counter.
“I don’t deserve your kindness.” I say, accepting the cup.
With my coffee already to my lips I give Benny a wave as I turn towards the exit.
“Good luck with your meeting!” Benny calls out.
Like a kid in timeout, I now have the next 15 or so minutes to think about my actions as I walk to my new office. I could catch a Lyft, but today more than ever I need the fresh air. Thankfully the morning temperature is holding out. This June weather will end up killing me, but - for now, it’s pleasantly warm and not quite humid enough to destroy my hair.
I wasn’t exaggerating to Benny. I think I clocked around three hours of sleep last night. Vincent’s coldhearted dismissal after our sudden round of tense, completely inappropriate office sex left me stunned and more hurt than I’d like to admit. But my emotions are my own personal problem to deal with. The real problem, the problem that I can’t stop worrying about, is that Vincent clearly works for M.E. There’s literally no other reason for him to have been in the office yesterday. And since he was wearing a suit, there’s not much use in crossing my fingers and hoping he was with the moving company.
I’m fairly sure that when he stepped onto the elevator with me, it was on the floor where I was supposed to get off. The floor that I work on. Dear gods, please don’t let him be on the PR team with me. I don’t think I have the sort of poker face necessary for that.
Wait.
I stop walking right in the middle of the sidewalk, causing a few curses to be tossed my way.
I close my eyes and let out my own silent curse. The elevator. My head was down when he first stepped on, but it was only for a second or two. I doubt he’d be able recognize me from the top of my head. But when I looked up, he was looking right at me. Like right freaking at me. And he wasn’t surprised. There was no shock on his face whatsoever. Running into your one night stand a month later, in a different state, should cause a person at least a moment of pause. Unless… Unless he already knew I’d be there.
“Mother fucker.” This time my curse isn’t silent.
Vegas. Goddamnit. He was there. For work. He must have been at the same meetings I’d been at. Except… Except I’m certain I would’ve noticed him. It’s not like there were hundreds of people in those meetings, and the man stands out. Either way, he works for Mazzanti Enterprises. And he was in Vegas, staying at the Mazzanti Resort.
Letting the other pedestrians jostle me into walking again, I think back through the details of the night I met him, making a point to skip over the naked parts. I remember the way he handled Mr. Idiot in the bar. The handoff to the security guards. The guy in the hallway outside his room, and later on in his room. Vincent must be part of the security team. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Maybe even Head of Security.
I groan. I think I can probably trust that he won’t report me, but what if he’s already bragged about his conquests to his friends?
Another thought jars me more than the first. What if he knew who I was back then, and that’s why he intervened with the jerk in the bar? What if it was all just a set up to get me in bed? I feel sick just thinking about it. I take a large gulp of coffee to rinse away the sour taste in my throat.
Then I take another drink for the jolt of alertness.
That’s it. No more thinking about the Devil. He’s dead to me. I will put him out of my mind and do my best to avoid him when I’m in the building. I can do that. I can’t think of a single scenario where I’d need to interact with security. This should be easy.
Feeling slightly pacified, I remind myself that my main goal is to keep my boss from finding out about Vincent. If Cheryl knew that I slept with a client, she’d take me off the project immediately. I don’t think she’d fire me. I don’t think so, but she might. She could. Best to not dwell on it. I won’t tell her. She won’t find out. And I’ll get to stay working on this project.
I’m almost surprised when I find myself standing in front of the Mazzanti building. I spent so much time fretting; I didn’t even realize I had walked all the way here. Taking one more deep inhale for strength, I push through the front doors. Time to put my game face on.
I make quick work of hurrying up to my office so I can drop off my nearly empty coffee and my bag. Grabbing a notepad, I head up to the top floor.
The crowd for this meeting is larger than I was expecting. We’re situated in the executive conference room. I swear it seats 50 and every chair is full. There’re even a few people standing against the back wall. They’re all Mazzanti employees. Cheryl, her assistant Monica, and I are the only outsiders.
Some of the staff came here from other M.E. locations, so there’s a slight chance that they’ve met this mysterious Mr. Sin before. But even then, he’s been very off-radar. And anyone who’s new to the company definitely hasn’t seen him.
Our meetings in Vegas mostly talked about logistics. Mazzanti Enterprises wants to, once and for all, set the record straight and present themselves as a totally legal organization. There’s been a lot of secrecy regarding the company in the past and they knew that they’d need the best PR team available to make the transition into the limelight smooth. We discussed the plan for the launch of the new Minneapolis location and finally put a face and name to the man behind the curtain. But we didn’t learn any details about him. Not a name. Not a hint. Nothing. We know he’s somehow related to the Mazzanti family. We know he’s been silently running things for 20 years, but he’s buried so deep that there’s not a single picture of this mystery man online. And we know that people have referred to him as Mr. Sin for the past several years. To say that we’re going into this unprepar
ed is an understatement.
Cheryl leans over so she can talk to me quietly. “After we wrap up here, the three of us will head back to my office to flush out the details. Once we have an actual name to research, and some details in hand, we’ll be able to square away more of our overall plan.”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
She winks. “Here’s hoping he’s good looking. That always makes the public more willing to trust a person.”
I stifle a snort of laughter. It’s not fair, but she’s not wrong.
I’m about to reply further when a small crowd of people walk through the double doors into the conference room. All conversations stop.
We’re seated near the middle of the table, facing the door. So, I can easily watch as the group makes their way towards the front of the room. It’s a cluster of bodies, but as they move forward, they start to spread out. Dark silky hair catches my attention. And then my heart clenches in my chest.
It’s Vincent. He’s in the small group that just came in.
I swallow down my rising anxiety. If he’s walking in with this crowd of higher-ups, then he must actually be in charge of security. Fuck.
Breathe. I remind myself. I already assumed this was the case. It will be fine.
As I’m trying to calm myself with that thought, the group disperses to stand against the front wall. Everyone except Vincent. Vincent steps up to the head of the table.
His sultry voice does nothing to soften the blow of his words.
“Good morning. I’m Vincent Mazzanti. Some of you know me as Mr. Sin.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SASHA
D ead. I’m actually fucking dead.
I can literally feel the color leave my cheeks as the blood drains from my face.
It can’t be true. Vincent. The Devil. Is Mr. Sin.
My shoulders curl down, my body trying to hide in some misguided attempt of self-preservation. I almost laugh. Or cry. It’s a bit late to protect myself now. Vincent, the man who’s been inside of me three times, the man who made me feel rejected and small only yesterday, is now my client. And not just my client but the client. He runs the whole damn company!
Suddenly, embarrassment floods through me and my face flashes from pale to pink. Vincent is a freaking millionaire. He’s wealthy beyond my imagination. He’s stunningly handsome. He’s smart. He’s witty. He’s every woman’s fantasy, and clearly a player. And I’m the stupid foolish girl who invited him to bed. Of course, he’s done with me. He probably remembered who he was, and who I was, halfway through our desk-fuck yesterday... and that’s why he closed down. He was probably disgusted with himself for slumming it and wanted the deed over as quickly as possible.
If this wasn’t arguably the most important assignment of my career, I’d run from this conference room and never look back.
I hadn’t noticed all the murmurs throughout the room, but Vincent’s voice cuts them off. “Mazzanti Enterprises is my legacy. My father, Stefano, brought me into this business when I was still a little boy. I learned a lot from him in the short time that we had together and did my best to take on his morals as my own. Upon his death, a trust oversaw the day-to-day business needs. But when I turned 21, I regained majority control. That was a few years ago.” He smirks and the crowd laughs.
I can’t laugh though. Not at his self-deprecating jokes. Not at the cute grin pulling at his lips. Not at any of this.
Vincent isn’t just a part of the family. He is the family. He’s the heir. The son of a famous gangster. Born into this life of wealth and extravagance.
“In all seriousness, I can only take a small fraction of the credit for the success of Mazzanti Enterprises. The team up here with me are the real brains of the business. They’re all heads of various departments and without them the whole circus would fall apart.” Vincent gestures to the people who walked in with him. “My philosophy is to put the right people in charge of the right projects, empower them, and help them in any way that I can. Our people, all of you in this room, are our real assets.”
I glance around to find huge smiles surrounding me. Cheryl was right, an attractive face makes anything believable.
“So why now? Why am I coming out of the shadows, so to speak? The short answer: it’s time. I was able to accomplish a lot by staying out of the spotlight. Over the past 21 years, I’ve worked hard with each and every department to make sure that we were the company that we wanted to be. This building that we’re in now is the new symbol of Mazzanti Enterprises. We’re a company to be proud of. A company that demands respect. A company that will move forward into the next era with no skeletons in the closet. With no secrets. The purpose of me coming forward is not to put the attention onto me, but rather to take the mystery away. Once it’s out there. Once everyone’s had a chance to see my ugly mug,” he pauses for more laughter, “then the mystery will fade, and the focus can move to where it should have been the whole time. Our people and what we do.”
My mind is still reeling too much to focus on his words. I can’t stop kicking myself for not putting it together on my own. I mean look at him. He is Mr. Sin. He’s the perfect stereotype that Jessica was hoping for. He’s sexy as hell. He’s dark. He has the look of a predator.
The very first moment I saw him, he had a man violently pinned to a bar top. And then he made a joke about having that man’s arms broken.
Oh god, it wasn’t a joke.
A small gasp escapes my lips.
Vincent’s eyes cut over and meet mine. He’s still talking, but his eyes are focused just on me. Those damn black eyes. I thought they were so captivating before, but now they feel dangerous. The heat of them now is too much. This is the first time he’s looked at me since his cock slid out of me last night. That memory wipes some of my shock away. You can dress him up in a suit and give him a fancy job, but he’s still just an asshole.
My jaw clenches and his lips pull up into the smallest of smiles. It’s so infuriating that my hands curl into fists. I want to hit him.
When Vincent looks away, I finally tune back into what he’s saying.
“It’s my pleasure to announce that this morning I signed the papers finalizing the purchase of Marie’s House. Or what will be Marie’s House. The building was an old hotel that we’ll renovate into transitional housing for women and families. My mother Marie has always wanted to give back in this way. Now seems like the perfect time. We have the means, and as of a few hours ago, we have the place.”
People are looking around as quiet voices fill the room. Apparently, this is a surprise to everyone. My recently acquired loathing for Vincent makes me want to hate everything he says, but this is actually a commendable idea. And it pisses me off.
“I know this is going to be a large undertaking, but we already have a build team put together. We plan to have the remodel breaking ground within the week. Not only is this for a great cause, but it will help to pull attention away from me and put it back where it belongs. To that end, I’d like to introduce Minnesota Relations.”
Vincent gestures in our direction. I know the attention will be on Cheryl, but my mouth still goes dry.
“Cheryl Morris is the owner of Minnesota Relations. They’re a Public Relations consultancy firm and will be assisting our in-house team during this transition period. Cheryl’s company comes highly recommended, and we’re lucky to have them during this process. They also happen to have a staff made up entirely of women, so they’ll be a great addition to the team launching Marie’s House.” Vincent’s smile seems innocent as he looks our way, but I know better. “It’s lovely to meet you ladies.”
I think I might faint. Like really faint. Like fall out of my chair, collapse on the floor, wish I were dead for real, faint.
I feel flustered. And used. And furious.
He knows details about the company. My company! He knows Cheryl’s name. How long has he known about our involvement? How long has he known about me?
Vincent continues. “There’s a lo
t to go through, so to save time I’ll work directly with the lead consultant. Sasha, is it?” His eyes land on mine and stay there.
Is he fucking with me?
I open my mouth, but don’t trust that my words will come out steady. Or that they’ll come out as anything other than a string of curses. So, I simply nod.
“Very well. I’ll have my assistant, Brent, get in touch with you.”
I nod again.
Vincent’s gaze leaves me as he continues to address the room.
I can’t listen anymore. I can barely breathe. What have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER TWELVE
SASHA
W ith a bag of Thai food in one hand, I unlock my door and push into my apartment. As the door slams shut behind me, a loud meow assaults my ears before Captain sprints from the hall to greet me.
“Hey, buddy. Give me half a minute to drop my shit, then we can share some Pad Thai.”
Captain is my best friend. He’s a normal cat. Nothing fancy. Just big. Like extra big. I think he was about 20 pounds on our last trip to the vet. He’s supposed to lose a few pounds, but hey, aren’t we all? Sure, he might be pudgy, but he can still haul ass to perform his daily after-work greeting. He’d probably greet me like this at other times too, but let’s face it, I don’t go anywhere but work.
True to my word, it only takes me a moment to kick off my shoes, drop my bag on the floor, yank my bra off, and plop my ass on the couch with a lapful of noodles. The post-meeting meeting that I had with Cheryl and Monica was surprisingly productive, given my state of mind. It was also long, so I have plenty to keep me busy over the next couple of days, including the weekend. Which is good since assistant-to-the-Devil, Brent, didn’t waste any time hunting me down. He has me on the books for my first meeting with Vincent, Monday at 2 o’ clock in the afternoon.
But I refuse to think about that anymore tonight. Tonight, I’m going to binge on carbs and pretend that my life isn’t crashing and burning around me.