Forbidden Desires

by Jenna Hartley

  He’s right. Why am I in a tailspin? If it was that Jake guy I was helping, I wouldn’t think twice. It’s appreciation for a coworker and wanting them to get the recognition they deserve, that’s all.

  “You might be right. Thanks. Who would’ve guessed my baby brother was so smart?” I pinch his cheek, and he smacks my hand away.

  “Good. Now let’s go get laid.” He stands to head toward the entrance to the gym.

  “Nah, I’m heading out.”

  He throws his hands in the air. “You’re kidding me. I just did my best psych one-o-one and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

  I stand and position the strap of my gym bag on my shoulder. “Take them both home and have some fun.” I smirk.

  He contemplates that for a moment. “Do you think they’ll go for it?”

  I shrug. “You don’t know until you ask. You know better than anyone that selling anything is a numbers game.”

  “I better go before they find someone else. See ya.” He waves, already halfway to the door.

  “Good luck,” I murmur, heading out the opposite way and feeling lighter.

  How did I not know the difference between appreciation for a coworker and wanting to nail my assistant? In all honesty though, I’m in uncharted territory here.

  Chapter 13

  Annie

  * * *

  “We’ve got some packages for you,” the guy from the mailroom says.

  I turn around from my desk and see two guys there, each with a dolly carrying two boxes.

  “Seriously?” I peer over the edge of my desk and see Coddle’s name on the return address label. “Give me one sec.” I pick up my phone and call Enzo’s extension.

  “Yes?”

  “Mind if I let the mailroom guys in?”

  “Sure. And then order us lunch. Billy’s kid is sick. It’s just us today.”

  I sink down in my chair. Why didn’t I know about Billy? Because I’m not on the need-to-know list.

  “Is that a problem, Miss Stewart?”

  I sit up straight in my chair. “No. I’ll let them in.”

  He hangs up, and I stand. Now I have to be alone with Enzo for an entire day? God help me. The faster we get through this, the faster I can become a junior ad exec and work with someone else.

  “Follow me.” I round the desk and open the door to Enzo’s office.

  “Mr. Mancini.” They each nod to him in hello. “Where would you like these?”

  “Over by the couches.” He absentmindedly points, clearly distracted by whatever he’s looking at on his computer.

  They do as he says and say their goodbyes.

  “Thanks, guys.” He nods, sliding his chair from his desk.

  He’s wearing a brown suit today. He’s almost always in black, blue, or grey, but the brown somehow pulls out his olive skin tone even further, and the blue tie adds a flash of color. I wonder if he has a personal shopper who puts his looks together? Probably. His suits are obviously tailored and cost way more than anything in my closet.

  “Miss Stewart.”

  His voice is close, and I blink, finding him right in front of me. His hand touches my arm in an are-you-okay manner, not in an I-know-you-were-daydreaming-about-me way. Thank God.

  I smile. “Yes?”

  He sits down on the couch, opens the pocketknife in his hand, and cuts open the box. How long was I daydreaming that I never even saw him grab the Swiss Army multi-tool thingy?

  “Are you joining me?” He looks up at me through his long eyelashes.

  If we had babies, would ours be blessed with those gorgeous lashes? Oh. My. God. What is wrong with me? This is ridiculous. I’m not even close to the kind of woman he’d go for.

  “Yes, of course.” I walk over and bury my head in a box. “There’s so much in here.”

  He flashes me a cocky smile. “Part of the perks.”

  “Too bad it’s not beauty items.”

  He tosses me a colorful box, and I catch it at the last minute.

  “I think you’re the only one of us who will use these.”

  I forgot that Coddle has a whole line of health-related items. Cue the mortification as I look at the box of tampons in my hand. My cheeks heat, and I have no idea why. It’s a natural thing, and what do I care what Enzo Mancini thinks? Women get their periods. Big deal.

  “I think we’ll choose those as our last item to do a campaign for.”

  I tap the box on my thigh, thinking of all those stupid tampon commercials. The ones where a girl is dressed in white pants and riding a bike like life couldn’t get any better, not like it feels as if her uterus is trying to claw its way out of her body. Great, she won’t leak. Doesn’t mean she feels like taking on the world. “I don’t know, I have some ideas.”

  He stops, holding a bottle of baby shampoo, and looks at me. “That might have to be all you.”

  We laugh, and I place the box on the other side of me before digging for more treasure.

  Enzo finishes sorting through one box and is starting the other when he stops. “This one has your name on it, and there’s a note inside.” He slides the whole box my way.

  “Oh, I love surprises.” I open the flaps and take out the small note. “It’s from Blair for my sister.” I move all the paper around to see bottles upon bottles of everything she’d need for the baby. “She’s going to love this.”

  Enzo smiles. He’s stopped pulling items out and he’s studying me.

  “What?” I hide my face by turning away from him.

  He clears his throat. “Nothing. You must really like surprises. Your face lit right up.”

  “Well, you just learned something about me. But it takes a lot to surprise me.”

  He rests his back in the corner of the couch, ignoring the boxes. “Really? Why is that?”

  I shrug, pushing the box for my sister aside and bringing my attention to the next box, ignoring Enzo’s eyes on me. “I anticipate people’s actions.”

  He laughs. “No way can you anticipate everyone’s actions.”

  I sit up straighter. “You know when you’re dating someone—”

  A cloud of confusion covers his face.

  “You don’t know what I mean?”

  “I don’t date.”

  I tilt my head. “You don’t date? Like, ever?”

  He does seem like the habitual one-night stand kind of guy. Or maybe he has a girl he keeps around strictly for sex. For the past two years, he’s come stag to the Christmas party, but I’ve never seen him hitting on anyone either. There are no rumors about him being a player. Maybe that’s because he goes through assistants so fast that no one has time to learn anything about his personal life.

  “In high school and college, sort of.” His face crinkles, and he shrugs as though that wasn’t really dating. “Once I got out of college, I didn’t have the time. I had goals and I knew a relationship would jeopardize me achieving them.”

  Huh. I have something in common with Lorenzo Mancini.

  “What?”

  I try to mask my revelation with a smile, but I’m too late. “It’s just… I feel the same way.”

  “You don’t date?”

  “I have, but I decided I want to stand on my own. Make sure I owned a condo, had money in the bank, a secure future before I invite someone else to join me.”

  He seems to think about that for a moment. “And have you? You’re on your way to junior ad exec, and you just bought your own condo.”

  I shrug. “I always had thirty in my mind, but I thought it would take me that long to accomplish it all. I might have to hold out for becoming a senior ad exec before I start dating.” I laugh.

  He doesn’t.

  He’s staring at me, and I swear there’s a crackle in the air. I suck in a breath and hold it, locked in his gaze.

  “But when you did date, you were able to figure out when he was going to surprise you?” He changes the subject and sits up straighter, grabbing a bottle of lotion from the box.

&nb
sp; The moment between us is gone so fast, I have to wonder if I imagined it.

  “Well, yeah. They’d always miss a step somewhere, and whatever they were setting up, I’d find out. Nothing is worse than having to pretend to be surprised. Especially when the person asks if you were surprised and you have to lie.”

  He chuckles. “You lied?”

  “I didn’t want anyone to feel bad.”

  “Oh, how different we are from one another.” He shakes his head and grins.

  I don’t mention that I think he likes to think he’s a tough ass, but what he’s done for me since I started working with him is contrary to his reputation for being an asshole.

  “What do we want to tackle first?” I stare at the abundance of products in front of us and pick up some lotion. “Baby bath time?”

  He picks up his own bottle because they sent us three of everything. “What is that, lavender?”

  “Yeah, this one is how Cecilia smells.”

  “How are they doing?” He arranges the bottles in a straight line, putting the alike products together.

  “They’re good. I go over there on Saturdays to help out. I mostly clean and let Beth take a nap.”

  “Babies are scary.”

  I laugh. “Should that be our pitch?”

  A deep rumble of laughter falls out of him, and it surprises me. I’ve heard him chuckle or laugh with clients, but never have I heard him full-on belly laugh. It’s hearty and sexy and—oh my God, I need to stop dissecting everything about him. A promotion is on the line here, and I don’t want to be fired for fraternization. Not that he would cross that line either.

  “I say we tackle the bath products—babies to adults. It could be a three-in-one campaign,” I say.

  “Done. Good choice.” He separates them out from the others.

  “And the tampons.”

  “No way.” He shakes his head and puts up his hands as though I might toss him one of the three boxes.

  “Ideas are already spilling out of my head.”

  “I know nothing about those things. I mean, I know where they go and their use, but…”

  I’m sure he’s more than familiar with the hole they go in, I think but don’t say.

  “Well then, isn’t it better that I’m here to help? What if I quit when they don’t give me the junior position and you’re left all by yourself to do a tampon campaign?” I smile, hoping my twinkling eyes will work some sort of magic and he’ll agree with me.

  “First of all, you’re going to get the junior position. Can’t we leave the tampons for last?”

  “I’m sure that’s what they expect. I bet if it were condoms, you’d be all over them.”

  “Speaking of.” He digs into the bottom of one of the boxes and tosses me a pack.

  And here we are, already prepared if the need arises.

  Lord, save me from myself. There is definitely something wrong with me. I take a breath to recompose myself. “Let me guess, you want to do the condoms?”

  “Well, I am a professional on that one.” He shrugs.

  I narrow my eyes. “It’s not like I don’t use condoms.”

  “You feel the condom, but you don’t use the condom.”

  “True.” I hold up the boxes of tampons and condoms, one in each hand. “Which will we choose?”

  His eyes focus on the condoms and his eyelids grow heavy. His smoldering gaze shifts to me, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s also thinking of testing them out.

  I drop the boxes. “Let’s concentrate on bath time first.”

  He swallows audibly. “Good idea.”

  I stand. “So, um, I’ll go order us some lunch before we get started.”

  “Perfect.”

  I practically run out of his office and shut the door, gasping for a breath of fresh air that isn’t mingled with the scent of Enzo.

  Chapter 14

  Enzo

  * * *

  I weave by the patrons waiting to be seated, finding Dom at his usual table at the Trading Post. He’s already scarfing down his lobster mac and cheese. Most people would say Dom is intimidating as hell, but I don’t think they’d have the same opinion if they saw him eating mac and cheese for lunch. Come to Trading Post any Thursday and you’ll find Dominic Mancini in the flesh.

  Before sitting, I shrug off my jacket. Seriously, when is summer going to arrive? “How nice of you to wait for us.”

  Dom barely looks up, chewing his mouthful of pasta.

  Our waitress arrives almost instantly. “Hey, Enzo.”

  “Kate, how’s it going?”

  She grabs the pen from behind her ear and positions her notepad even though I’m sure she knows our orders by heart. “Doing all right. You?”

  “Good. I’ll have the goat cheese pizza and a water for right now.”

  She nods, doesn’t bother writing it down, and peers across the restaurant toward the doors. “Carmelo coming too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll grab his Stella.”

  “You’re the best.” I smile at her before she leaves.

  Dom wipes his mouth with his napkin. “Since you failed at your mission, we have something new to discuss.”

  “Which is?” I unroll my silverware from my napkin and place the napkin on my lap.

  “I don’t want to waste time telling just you. We’ll wait for Carm.”

  I nod. “So what, I’ll watch you eat?”

  “I have shit I need to take care of. Do you have any idea what happened today?” He grabs his fork again.

  “Do you carry antacids around with you, big brother?”

  He narrows his eyes, piling another mouthful of food onto his fork.

  “Sorry I’m a few minutes late.” Carm walks in, sans coat, and sits down, eyeing Dom already halfway through his meal before shifting his vision to me, silently asking ‘what the fuck?’

  “He’s in a hurry,” I say.

  “Hurry? Do you know how long it took me to get all the way down here? How many times have I said we shouldn’t meet at lunch?”

  “Yet here you are,” Dom says.

  Carm rolls his eyes, then smiles and looks at me. “Hey, thanks for the other night. Turns out Trina and Kitty were into having fun as a group.”

  “You know those are fake names, right?”

  “No. Why would they use fake names?” Carm seems alarmed by the thought. “Should I have used a fake name?”

  “Since your half-naked body is plastered on Times Square, I’d say don’t bother,” Dom deadpans.

  “Here you go.” Kate comes by and puts down our drinks.

  “Kate!” Carm’s boisterous personality alerts everyone in a five-foot radius that he knows our waitress.

  “Hey, Carm. What can I get you?”

  “Ah.” He looks at the menu and ponders for a minute as if we’re not here every week. Even Kate, who I think might have a thing for him, looks as if she wants to scream. Carm can be blind to the obvious sometimes, so he probably doesn’t even notice the lunch rush. “Salad. Chef. Just balsamic.”

  “Got it.” She lightly touches his shoulder, moving on to the next table.

  “It took you five minutes to order the same thing you do every week?” I grab my water.

  He flashes me his toothy smile. “I almost changed it up. The mac and cheese looks awesome, given the shit day I’m having.”

  “What’s going on?” I take a sip of my water and set it back on the table.

  “That stupid chick who keeps advertising how to sell your house yourself rather than use a realtor? She’s won some big clients lately and it’s pissing me off.”

  “Oh.” Dom points with his fork. “She’s hot as hell. I saw her billboard the other day.”

  “If you can see past her evil self.” Carm rolls his eyes.

  Dom pushes away his bowl and sets down his cutlery. “So Enzo fucked up the Blanca thing.”

  “What?” Carm’s head swivels in my direction.

  “She’s not buying it.” Do
m leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

  “Did you honestly think she would?” Sometimes I think I’m the only Mancini brother with a functioning brain.

  “I have a new idea anyway. I went over to our parents’ last night because I had to grab something from the basement.”

  “What?” Carm asks.

  Dom’s forehead creases. “What?”

  “What did you need?”

  Dom shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I know, but I wanna know.” Carm’s like a dog with a tug toy.

  “Anyway”—Dom ignores Carm’s questions—“I overhead Ma talking to Dad. She kept saying she didn’t raise us properly. Going on and on about how she’ll never see grandkids. You know how she can get carried away.”

  Carm and I nod. Whether it’s good or bad, Mama takes everything to the extreme.

  “You’d think we were fifty or something,” Carm says.

  “In Italian terms, we kind of are. And I think we’re all in agreement none of us are ready to settle down any time soon?” Dom looks around the table, making eye contact with each of us.

  We nod like good younger brothers.

  Dom claps his hands together and rubs his palms. “Lucky for us, Ma and Pa had the oops baby, Blanca.”

  “Was she an oops?” Carm asks.

  Dom shoots him a look that says shut the fuck up and listen. “We just need to find her a guy she can be serious with.”

  “This sounds like a bad plan. Like something from a movie,” I say. Blanca is way smarter than he’s giving her credit for.

  “It’s brilliant. If there’s not a movie, someone should make it into one. Blanca’s always watching all that romance shit. I mean, how many renditions of Romeo and Juliet have we seen because of her? Hell, she convinced Ma that we should go to the play as a family.”

  “Technically, I’m not sure Romeo and Juliet is a romance,” Carm chimes in, and we both stare at him as if he’s sprouted another head. “What? It’s true. I think romance has to have a happy ending. Name another movie where a main character dies?”