by S. J. Tilly
Was that meant to be a joke? She can’t possibly know about my private nickname for him. Does she know there’s something going on between us? No. That’s not possible. And if she did suspect something, she sure as hell wouldn’t be winking about it.
Cheryl pats my arm. “I’m going to go say hi then run to the office. But I’ll be back before it starts.”
As I watch Cheryl approach Vincent, I notice that he’s not alone. At his side is the small, beautiful blonde with dark eyes. Annie. I know he doesn’t want her here when the cameras show up, so I’m surprised that he brought her in at all. With an arm over Annie’s shoulders, Vincent shakes Cheryl’s hand. I told Cheryl that he had a daughter so at least she won’t be too caught off guard by the introduction.
I feel like I’m intruding by observing them. Nothing special is happening, Vincent’s just standing with his daughter, and yet I feel the moment in every part of my body. My heart is thumping and it’s like my damn ovaries just flipped on a neon sign saying open for business. I’m not even sure that I want to have kids, but there’s something about a single father dedicated to his child that sets off every maternal instinct I have.
Chastising myself, I start to look away when another woman catches my eye. I recognize her from old news articles, but even without those I’d know exactly who she is. Marie Mazzanti, Vincent’s mother. She’s small and slender, like her granddaughter, but her coloring matches Vincent.
Seeing them all together makes me wonder about Annie’s mother. With Annie’s golden locks and pale skin, I imagine that she must look just like her mom. Except for having Vincent’s eyes. I did as much digging as I’m capable of but couldn’t find any information on the absentee mother. Not even Annie’s birth certificate. But since I don’t know where she was born, or the mother’s last name, that’s not a surprise.
The research wasn’t for my own personal knowledge. I needed to see what the typical journalist would be able to find regarding Annie. Because as soon as she’s announced everyone will be looking to dig up her story. And okay, yes, maybe I was a little curious for non-professional reasons.
The lack of information makes her identity all the more intriguing, but endless amounts of money can buy you privacy. Among other things.
“Sasha Clark?” A gravelly voice startles me out of my thoughts.
I turn and nearly step back when I see the man standing next to me. I don’t know how I didn’t hear his approach. The man is massive. Like one of those huge guys in the NFL -type of massive. He’s got to be six foot eight and wide as a doorway. His olive skin and dark hair, buzzed short, speak of Italian descent. The family resemblance with Vincent is there, only instead of piercing black eyes, this man’s eyes are a startling blue.
I take his offered hand. “You must be Angelo Rossi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
His grin reaches his eyes, but still looks predatory. If I thought Vincent looked a little scary, he’s got nothing on Mount Angelo.
“So, how’s it been working with my cousin? He treatin’ you well?” He asks, holding my gaze.
The question seems innocent enough, but I’m almost certain that he knows the whole sordid history between Vincent and me.
I work to keep my smile in place. “It’s been fine. I’m looking forward to getting through today, so we can move our focus to the gala.”
Angelo nods. “Ah yes, the charity thing. That’s in a few weeks, right?”
“Yep.” I’m usually great at small talk, but this man is making me feel like I’m under interrogation. Appropriate since he’s Head of Security.
“How’s John doing?” Angelo asks with the slightest tilt of his head.
I couldn’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Your brother. They keeping him busy down in the Windy City?”
What the… I take a step back and Angelo raises an eyebrow at my reaction.
His voice has a tinge of amusement. “You didn’t really think that we wouldn’t find out, did you?”
My insides tighten. “Find out? What the hell are you insinuating? I haven’t kept my brother a secret. Just ask Vincent.”
“Yeah, we’ve talked. Funny how you failed to mention that John works for the FBI. On the mob squad.” He crosses his giant arms over his giant chest. “How did you see this working? Figured you could catch Vincent with his guard down and he’d tell you all the family secrets? Sorry honey, but there aren’t any secrets anymore.”
Every word out of the behemoth’s mouth pushes me further past shock and into anger.
Taking a step closer I regain my ground and lower my voice. “Listen up and listen good because I’m only going to say this once. I was sought out for this job. Not just my company, but me specifically. Because I’m good at what I do. And I’m here to do work. My work. Not some sort of undercover rat for my brother. My brother who is none of your damn business. Not now, not ever. If you so much as breathe his name to me again, I will make you regret every steroid shake your oversized Shrek ass ever drank.”
On a roll, I point a finger in his direction. “Also, I’m here because Mazzanti Enterprises is clean. Clean, as in there’s no reason for the FBI to be interested in your business. Now if you keep throwing out bullshit accusations, I might have to reconsider that clean status and have a little chat with John. Maybe he can bring his friends up and they can go kick over the logs in your swamp, see what scurries out.” It’s my turn to cross my arms. “Did you hear all that way up there, or do you need me to write it down?”
A warm palm slides down my back, coming to rest at the base of my spine.
“Yeah, did you hear that?” I can hear the smile in Vincent’s voice. “Because I for one would love to have her repeat it for dictation.”
Angelo’s eyes are still on me. “I think I’m gonna like you.”
“I told you.” Vincent says, causing Angelo to bark out a laugh.
Vincent and I have emailed with each other all week but have kept it strictly business. I haven’t seen him in person since he stormed out of my office on Monday after ranting about how I can’t sleep with other guys. Part of me was still tempted to fight him. To fight this thing between us. But now, standing here, with his arm around me… I can’t fight it. This feels so normal. So right. So fitting.
Forcing my mind to stay on track, I slant my eyes up to meet Vincent’s. “You ran my brother?”
“We ran you. We do background checks on all our employees. Honestly, it should have been done weeks ago.” He shrugs. “When Shrek here found out that your brother’s FBI, he thought you might be working to bring me down. I, on the other hand, knew that theory was total bullshit. I’d say your verbal smackdown just now was the perfect end to our argument.”
Vincent grins and slides his hand around to my side, giving me a small squeeze.
My body instantly reacts to his touch. The urge to lean into him has me gritting my teeth. I step to the side, causing his hand to drop away from my body. Him and Angelo have started to talk about something else, so Vincent doesn’t notice my behavior.
Being as discreet as possible, I look around to make sure no one saw him touching me like that. Luckily, Cheryl is nowhere to be seen. She must have left already. I’m about to exhale a relieved breath when my eyes connect with Annie’s. She’s across the room but staring right at me.
Vincent taps my elbow to get my attention, then gestures to his phone. “I gotta take this call. Can I trust you two not to kill each other?”
I glance at Angelo and roll my eyes. “We’ll be fine.”
Vincent nods before walking away.
Angelo is still smiling. “You just cost me twenty bucks.”
“Was the bet that I was dirty or that I’d lose my cool over being questioned?”
He chuckles. “Second option. Vincent figured if I said anything about John, you’d take it as a threat and flip out on me.”
I open my mouth, but a young voice interrupts my reply. “Uncle Angelo, Grandma wants to talk t
o you.”
We both look down to find Annie standing next to us.
“Hey, princess.” Angelo goes to ruffle her hair, but she ducks away causing him to laugh. “Let’s go find Grandma then.”
“She’s over by the door.” When Angelo doesn’t move, she huffs. “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to ask Sasha about the news vans real quick.”
Angelo’s brows furrow in confusion, matching my own. “You know Sasha?”
“Not really, but me and Grandma were just talking to some lady that pointed her out.” She looks at me. “She said you’ve been inside the big news vans before.”
I nod. “I have. I’m friends with a few of the local reporters. I’m sure I could arrange for you to get a tour sometime. If your dad’s okay with it.”
“Cool.” She says with a shrug. “Uncle Angelo, go talk to Grandma. I’ll just be a second.”
He throws his hands up. “Fine. Don’t wander off.”
Annie and I watch him walk away before turning back to face each other.
Oh god, why is this so awkward.
I clear my throat. “So, do you have a school project about the news? Or are you just interested in it?”
Her dark eyes inspect me before she rolls them. “I don’t care about the stupid news.”
“Oh, um…” I pause. Wait, what?
Annie lowers her voice. “Are you sleeping with my dad because of his money?”
My jaw falls open. “I’m not… We aren’t…”
She crosses her little arms. “I’m not dumb. I know you like him. But my dad’s not like that. You won’t get his money. He’s not dumb either.”
“Annie!” We both look up to see Angelo across the room with his arm up in a what gives gesture.
Based on her line of questioning, my guess is that she lied about her grandma needing to talk to Angelo.
“My dad doesn’t need you," she whispers at me, before turning and skipping away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
SASHA
I don’t remember whose idea it was to have a happy hour on location after the press conference, but it’s the best idea of the year.
The show is over. Vincent’s speech went smoothly. As expected, the reporters were eating out of his palm from the start. There wasn’t a single question raised that we hadn’t prepared for. And once the news of Marie’s House was announced, all attention shifted to the new non-profit. A handsome-as-sin man spending millions on housing for homeless women and families? Say no more.
Shutting my eyes, I lean against the wall and finish off my second glass of wine.
The work part of today went perfectly. The rest of it, not so much. I’m still rattled from being told off by an 11-year-old girl. Seriously, what the hell was I supposed to say? Lie and tell her I’m not involved with her father? Admit that I like him but try to explain that I don’t want his money? She wouldn’t believe me. And she wasn’t really waiting for me to answer, she just wanted to get it off her chest.
And what about Vincent? As I continue to replay the scene in my mind, I go back and forth on whether or not to tell him. I’m currently on no. No, I won’t tell him. She’s just a kid who’s worried about her dad. I was hoping she was too young to pick up on the overwhelming sexual vibes between Vincent and myself on the day she burst into his office, but of course I couldn’t be so lucky. And I’m sure seeing Vincent’s arm around me earlier tonight didn’t help either.
I had a single parent growing up. My mom had a few serious boyfriends and I remember how stressed I’d get every time she brought someone new home. What if I didn’t like him? What if he didn’t like me? What if my mom started to love him more than me? What if I got left behind?
I pinch my eyes shut even tighter and take a deep breath. Sometimes I can think about my mom without getting sad. Sometimes I can’t.
“Sasha.”
My eyes open at Vincent’s soft tone. His face is so close and I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him.
“You did a nice job up there today,” I say with a smile that feels forced.
“Come on.” He nods towards the elevators and starts to walk.
Too tired to argue, I push off the wall and find a table to set my empty wine glass on. I catch up to him right as the elevator doors open. It’s not until the elevator starts to move that I realize we’re headed down, rather than up.
“Uh, Vincent? Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“You’re giving me a ride home?”
The doors open to the private parking level. “You’re coming home with me.”
He steps out and I’m once again left chasing him. Am I drunker than I thought? I’m positive that we didn’t talk about this earlier. I wouldn’t have forgotten.
Vincent stops next to an expensive looking black sports car. “My mom has Annie for the night. I’d like you to come over.”
“Vincent…”
He opens the passenger door. “You looked sad standing there. Come home with me and I promise to make you feel better.”
“Okay.” I whisper.
Later, I can blame the wine for my easy acceptance.
Vincent’s eyes flash with victory. “Good girl. Now get your ass in the car.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SASHA
T he ride to Vincent’s place is silent. No conversation. No music. Just sexual tension.
Sitting quietly, I watch the buildings go by. I know that going to Vincent’s is a mistake. I’m already too entangled in his life. He’s my client. He’s a single dad to a kid that already hates me. He comes from a background that’s completely at odds with my brother’s career. He’s not looking for a relationship, but he still wants to play alpha male and boss me around as if I were his. His signals are nothing but mixed. And, worse yet - even with his abundant asshole tendencies - I care about him. And with a man that doesn’t want attachments, those feelings can only end one way. In unreciprocated heartache.
But… But the sex is really good. Like really, really, stupid good. Like I crave him every night. When I’m falling asleep, every time my mind wanders, I think about having him between my thighs. I think about his breath on my neck. I think about his body against mine. And like an addict, I convince myself that maybe tonight will help to curb my need. One more fix and I’ll be able to get him out of my system.
“We’re here.” Vincent’s words fill the space between us.
He’s pulled into an underground parking lot. I’m glad it’s dark down here, so he can’t see me blushing. I didn’t notice we parked because I was too busy thinking about sex.
Following his lead, I exit the car. Vincent holds his hand out for me to take. Sliding my palm against his, I realize this is another thing that just feels so normal with Vincent. Holding hands. He's a man who can snap and get his way, who fucks like it’s his job, who has the world at his feet. But when he holds my hand, it feels like something we’ve been doing for years.
The silence continues as we take the elevator to the lobby. I should have expected the high security building. He’d mentioned that personal security was his reason for living downtown and not in the country.
Hand still in his, Vincent walks me across the shining marble floors. When he tips his head at the security guard I almost don’t look. But when I do, I do a double take. There’s a typical front desk with a professional looking guard sitting behind it. But it’s the second, monstrous man that catches me off guard.
Angelo is leaning against the desk, watching as we approach the elevators. Vincent doesn’t say anything, and neither does Angelo. But he does give me a wink as the elevator doors slide shut. Oh good, another witness to our indiscretions.
“Does he live here, too?” I ask Vincent.
“Yes. It’s easier to have him close. He’s the Head of Security for Mazzanti Enterprises, but he’s also lead for my personal security team.” Vincent shrugs. “He’s been pretending to be my bodyguard since we were eight years old. Made sens
e to make it official.”
“Since you were eight?” I hum. “So, what, he was only six foot two back then, about 300 pounds?”
Vincent startles me with his loud laugh. It echoes in the small elevator cab, filling my body with its vibrations.
When the doors slide open, Vincent lets go of my hand and drapes his arm over my shoulders. There are very few doors and I wish I’d paid attention to the floor numbers. I’d bet good money that we’re on the penthouse level.
Stepping through the doorway, I pause. I hadn’t really thought about what his home would look like, but I wouldn’t have pictured it like this.
We’re in a short entryway with a padded bench on the left. It has cubbies below and there’s a rainbow raincoat on the hooks above. There are shoes scattered around the floor, and - toeing off my ballet flats - I leave them beside a small pair of pink sneakers.
“Would you like a drink?” Vincent asks as he walks past me into the main room.
“No, I’m okay.” I mumble, following behind and taking in the space.
Straight ahead is a wall of windows looking out over the Mississippi River. With the city lights on and the final touches of a sunset casting a deep red glow across the water, the view is stunning.
Pulling my eyes away from the glass, I wander through the living space. Large cloth covered couches and overstuffed chairs upholstered in a variety of fabrics fill the room. There’s a TV mounted to the wall above a large fireplace. Side tables are covered in books. And a pair of purple rollerblades sits in the corner of the room.
This is a family home. It’s comfortable. Inviting. Huge and high-end, but cozy. It’s down-to-earth in a way I didn’t think Vincent was capable of.
The sound of bottles clinking has me looking over my shoulder to see Vincent in the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan so the only thing separating the living room from the kitchen is the huge quartz-topped island. There are six swivel stools, and even though there’s a large dining table on the other side of the room, I imagine Vincent and Annie probably eat most of their meals right there in the kitchen.