by Anna Ray
That was a lack of research, and they were going to pay for that.
I could hear heels clicking on the hardwood floor down the hallway, and I stood and put my hand in my pocket gracefully.
Chiara Fiore entered the room, and I gave her a warm smile.
Pictures didn't do the woman justice. I had to keep my jaw from dropping, as she walked into the room. Her hips swayed, her curves filled out. And it took all of my energy not to look at her sweet, voluptuous tits.
She was fucking hot. And I wanted her. Even though I shouldn’t, and I had to blink a few times to shake myself out of the stupor.
She could have easily made a living as a model. Or a socialite.
“Chiara,” Frankie said, standing up and walking over to her. “I want you to meet our guest, Mr. Luca Mendacius.”
My heart thundered a little bit as I saw her, an unexpected reaction, especially since I'd seen pictures of her before I made this offer. But I knew she was doing this out of devotion to her father, and for no other reason but that.
Smoking hot. Tall and lithe, with curves in all the right places. Annoyingly, my hands were sweating as I looked at her walk. At how her long hair flowed from her olive skin, how her lips were ripe for kissing … or something else. All I wanted to do was push the hair away from her face and pull her into a kiss. Those brown eyes, her impeccable skin.
The woman was, in one word, perfection.
And I had to dig my nail into my thigh to snap me out of the vortex of her beauty. I was here on business, nothing more.
But it was hard not to think she was a catch, that was sure. And it was harder not to see the cunning behind her eyes. Or the brain that the beautiful package covered.
And all I wanted to do was unfold the petals and open the flower.
I took a moment to collect myself, and I knew that these negotiations were going to be more difficult than I thought. My breath hitched a little as I watched her, and I couldn’t help the visceral, physical reaction to her. I needed to think of something else, and fast. Or else everyone in the room would know how attracted I was to her.
This was not the time to be smitten. And I needed to get a handle on myself or none of this would work.
I needed to remain distant until a deal was done. Because I needed to have the upper hand. And I had to remind myself that I needed this woman less than they needed my money. It was a business transaction, nothing more.
“Hello,” she said tersely, she didn't hold out her hand, and neither did I. We simply stared at each other just for a moment, appraising each other, trying to get a feel for what was happening here.
“It's very nice to meet you,” I said warmly. “I've heard a lot about you from your uncle, I have to say he greatly downplayed-”
“My beauty,” she finished for me. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Frankie, I'm getting a rather large headache, I think I'm going to retreat to my bedroom.”
With that, she started walking away from the living space.
I cocked my head as she walked away, watching every inch of her move and sway with her high heels.
That woman is fine as fuck.
“It was very nice meeting you,” I called after her, composing myself enough to speak. “Very nice.”
She didn't say anything, choosing to ignore me and walking away from the living room.
“That went surprisingly well,” Frankie said, watching his niece leave.
“Really? I thought it went terribly.”
“Honestly, I expected her to punch you in the face. So that was definitely better than expected.”
Surprised, I turned to look at him.
“She punches men in the face?”
Frankie shook his head, pulling himself back from the past, and shot me a smile.
“She’s Italian,” he said with a shrug. “She doesn’t take a lot of shit.”
Without another word, Frankie led me through the hallway and into a large board room. Vito was standing at the window, looking out at his beautifully kept grounds. Appearances were obviously very important to this family, as Vito kept a gardener on staff but didn't fix the leaky roof.
And I was going to use this to my advantage.
“Vito,” Frankie said, stepping ahead of me. “May I present Mr. Luca Mendacius.”
Vito turned, and looked me up and down.
“So you're the man who wants to marry my daughter?”
I held out my hand and walked forward. Vito met me halfway and took my hand. We both gave each other a strong squeeze as we shook, each of us trying to judge the man in front of them.
I didn't worry about Vito Fiore. He used to have a lot of power in Chicago, once he was the top boss of all the mafia families. He started from nothing, and dragged his family to the top, clawing tooth and nail for every position of power, every good business opportunity that he could.
His rise to power had been meteoric, and so essential in the history of the Chicago underworld that even the bosses in Sicily knew who he was. That, mixed with his marriage to Gia Logano, had been one of the defining moments in the last thirty years.
Oh, I knew about Vito Fiore. I knew all about him.
And I was interested in what had led to him to lose all his money. I’d heard the rumors, but I wanted to know for sure.
He walked to the wet bar and poured himself a drink.
Well, that solved one problem.
Vito was a fucking drunk. And I loved doing business with drunks. They made mistakes, and decisions with their emotions.
I smiled internally as Vito sat down with his drink.
“So,” Vito said, “you come here to ask me for my daughter's hand?”
“I was invited here,” I said, sitting at the table without an invitation. I didn't make a straight power move, and didn't sit at Vito's head position.
I was smart enough not to get a bullet in the back of the head today, and that would be a sure way to earn it.
“Oh yes, Frankie said he had invited you here to discuss a proposition. So, Mr. Mendacius. You have a meeting with me and I'm all yours.”
“I'm a single man,” I answered, “a man of specific tastes. And tastes that most women can't fulfill. In beauty and in mind. I've heard that your daughter could have poetry written about her. That, and the fact that she's used to being involved in business activities and knows the rules, is important to me.”
“You're older than her, by almost ten years. You don't think that's a problem?”
“Not at all. It's not like I'm twenty years older than her. She's young, yes, but definitely old for her age. And nothing I can't deal with.”
“Frankie may not have told you that my daughter has a tongue on her, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. She's like her mother, in that regard. She’s also gotten into a scrap or two, comes with being raised with only brothers.”
“I look forward to the fire. Often I find them women are too shallow, plus it’s rare to find a high class woman who will speak their mind. I refuse to hold my tongue about business opportunities in my own house. I don’t want to be careful around her. That's not what I want, not in a life partner anyway.”
“So you see this is a life partner?”
“This isn't a fling for me, Mr. Fiore. If I wanted a fling, I could go and get with one of the many models I know. That's not what I want, I want to settle down, and I need a family.”
“Oh, so you want a progeny?”
“Obviously only if Chiara wants one as well, however that will factor in my decision of making this an official agreement. Yes, I want children. And I want someone to inherit my considerable amount of wealth.”
“Children are a gift,” he agreed. “Even though they can be a pain in the ass,” he mumbled under his breath as the alcohol started to hit him. There were definite benefits of doing business with a drunk man.
“Honestly, I'm lonely. I don't like having to hold my tongue at home, and I don't like having to keep my business ventures away from any woman I date. I would like
to be able to talk freely, and not worry about a woman going through my phone and finding something.”
“Do you promise to remain faithful to my daughter? Or is this just a business opportunity for you? Will you get action on the side?”
I shrugged and didn't answer.
“I suppose what happens between a man and his wife only really has to do with them,” Vito answered for me.” You understand my hesitation, don't you Mr. Mendacius? You understand why I wouldn't be willing to just sell my daughter to just any man?”
“I do, if I was just any man. But the amount of wealth I offered you in exchange for your daughter's hand in marriage was considerable. Also, I will want a share of the business after we are wed.”
“Frankie didn’t say anything about that,” Vito grumbled.
“That’s the business side of this. Look, in the old world a dowry was always expected for a woman's hand. Just think of this as a dowry. I'm not buying your daughter, I'm not buying her freedom nor am I buying sex from her. I will respect her as my wife, always. And I'm assuming she will respect me as well. This is just a dowry, it’s an agreement between men for the hand of a woman.”
“Not just any woman. My daughter, and my last ties to my wife. She looks exactly like Sophia, did you know that?”
“I heard about your wife, and I'm very sorry for your loss. I understand that must be hard.”
“It was a long time ago,” Vito said, taking a swig of his drink. “But not long enough.”
“I want a hundred thousand more than we talked about on the phone,” Vito continued, emboldened by the alcohol. “I have to make sure my grandchildren are taken care of.”
I thought about it for a while. A hundred thousand wasn't really a big deal to me, and I knew Vito was lying about his grandchildren. He wanted his own small nest egg because his brothers would be watching his financials like a hawk. As would his sons. All of the Fiore family were adults, and any one of them had a justifiable reason to snuff the old man and take up his place.
And the rest of the family probably wouldn't argue, considering Vito lost most of his money to gambling.
I'd heard the rumours, and the fact that he was drinking a nine in the morning meant that they were true.
“No problem, “I said finally. “I'll put $100,000 into a locked account that can only be accessed by your grandchildren when they turn twenty-four. That way, no nefarious individual could steal it from them.”
Vito raised his eyebrows, clearly annoyed that I caught him in a lie.
It took him a while to think about it.
“I suppose I have no other choice.” He held out his hand, and I took it. “If I find out that you've hurt her in any way…” he whispered venomously under his breath so that only I could hear him, “I have no problems having you killed.”
I shot him my biggest, most award winning smile.
“Tell your daughter I'd like to take her for a walk immediately.” I smiled and turned my back on him. “Whenever she's ready. I'll transfer the money to a joint holding account, one that you don't have access to you until the rings are exchanged. Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fiore.”
I walked away. I didn't turn back to see his face. Much like the exit his daughter had just given me.
Because I knew he wouldn't have a smile. That was fine, I was smiling enough for the both of us.
The first step was done.
My uncle would be proud.