His Dirty Bargain

by Fiona Murphy

  No, don’t do it, only my body isn’t listening. My fingers slide down to find I’m wet, drenched from hungry need. I barely graze my clit and holy shit. Closing my eyes, instantly I’m back in Enzo’s arms, his hard body all around me. His scent, leather, rain, moss in every breath I took. How the heat of him turned my bones to soft butter. Oh god, oh god, damn it. I come with a body-shaking climax so strong I have to grip the edge of the stall to keep from falling down.

  Head down, I press it harder and harder into the tile wall. What the hell is the matter with me? This is bad; knock it off. Three months of working with Enzo Sabatini lie ahead, and if you can’t keep it together it will blow up in your damn face. He is not for you. No men, remember, no men. All they do is take, and take until you have no more to give, then when you’re empty they leave and you’re alone all over again. These last five years have been great, peaceful, and I don’t want to go back to all of the chaotic, helpless agony of before. No, it doesn’t matter how good Enzo felt. He’s no different from any other man; if anything he’s more lethal. Let it go, Chloe.

  ***

  Chloe

  My ass has barely touched my chair when my cell phone goes off with a flurry of texts from Enzo. The names and numbers of contractors for me to contact. I’m informed I have his schedule waiting in my email inbox. He wants to be there for the first meeting. Per his cousin, he’s hired an architect for the basement and the kitchen who specializes in historic homes. I’m supposed to make an appointment with her no later than Tuesday, and he wants to be there as well as the contractors so everyone is on the same page.

  I pull out my Klonopin, but damn it, my doctor has been stingy lately on refills. I don’t need it often, sometimes I can go weeks without it, other times it’s five days out of a week. When my doctor first suggested giving it to me, I resented the implication I couldn’t control my anxiety but the truth was I couldn’t control it. The Klonipin helped it was stupid not to use it. Best to keep what I have for when I actually have to be around Enzo. It comes back, me taking the Klonopin after Enzo’s call yesterday, then the wine only a few hours later. Damn it, it was the Klonopin combined with the glass of wine that fucked me up last night. Okay, fine, no more wine—when I’m around Enzo.

  Rolling my eyes, I put my phone to the side as I go through my emails for my actual job. Thankfully nothing is time-sensitive. It only takes an hour to clear my box. Everything settled, I pull up the information on the contractors listed and the architect.

  The architect, Jillian Franklin, has a reputation that’s impressive for someone so young. I ignore the sting of jealousy at how pretty she is. It doesn’t matter, not in the slightest. When I call, the receptionist is dismissive until I give the Sabatini name, then she trips over herself. Of course, Ms. Franklin is available, Monday morning at ten is best. I check Enzo’s schedule; it will work.

  The contractor I call does the usual “they are too busy they don’t need another job,” until I give them the time frame, the budget, and Enzo’s name. All of a sudden they are more than happy to assist; how many men will the job need? I don’t know, why don’t they show up on Monday and we can discuss it then. They agree and promise to be there. When my phone rings I’m not surprised it’s Enzo.

  “What?”

  He pauses, and I fight not to laugh. “What’s taking so long?”

  “I’m emailing you now. I would have hit send in less than forty-five seconds. I have everyone scheduled for ten on Monday. I already have a charity coming today to clear out the furniture for donation.” I’m doing it now, it totally counts. “I’m keeping the piano, for now.” I hit send on the email, then bring up the website for the charity for their phone number.

  “Fine. Lunch today, at the house. We’ll eat there and go over paint colors. I want the dining room and living room done immediately.”

  I don’t bother arguing. “Fine, what time?”

  “One, we’ll take my car and driver.”

  “One, downstairs, I’ll see you then.” I hang up before he can say anything else. My head goes down into my hands. Screwed, I’m so fucking screwed. As annoyed as I was at his call, the sound of his voice had my whole body coming alive, electrified and scrambling for more. This is going to be a long three months. Maybe Enzo’s right, and it won’t take nearly that long. I can hope.

  ***

  Enzo

  Pauline starts my day off in a huff. “You didn’t tell me about the whole home buying thing. Why did you tell me you had a meeting and not that you were off looking for homes?”

  “I wasn’t aware it was any of your concern. It falls under Karen’s jurisdiction.” Karen is my housekeeper-slash-lifekeeper. She takes care of the cleaning, ordering of clothes, personal bills, groceries and all the other minutiae of my home.

  “Everything to do with you is my concern. You bought a house.”

  “I did. It needs work though. As the email detailed to Chloe made clear, she’ll be handling the remodel. Make sure she gets my schedule weekly.”

  “Are you going to be nice and let the woman do her job, or are you going to be an ass?”

  I shrug. “She does her job well, I’ll behave. If she doesn’t she’ll get what she deserves like any other person I deal with.”

  Shaking her head, Pauline slaps the file she’s carrying on my desk. “I like her. You make her cry, I take a week off.”

  Pauline takes time off all the time when she’s mad at me. When she’s off because she’s pissed, I still send her work and she handles it, just at home where she can’t reach out and smack me like she wants to. “She’s not the crying type.” I have no doubt with sustained pressure, Chloe Hutchins would break. I’m also fairly sure she would follow it up with either a verbal smackdown of epic proportions, or a physical one across my face.

  “How would you know that? What did you do?”

  “She’s fine. Ms. Hutchins can take care of herself. Cancel my reservations tonight. Send something to Ms. Ryan with my regrets.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Something shiny or flowers?”

  “Flowers, I won’t be calling her back to reschedule.”

  “Good.”

  My morning crawls until I get the notice from the front desk Chloe is in the building. I can’t believe she comes in so late; at least it means she’ll be able to check in on the work at the house before she comes into the office. After I send several texts, I wait for an answer, only nothing comes. I give up and try to focus on work except I check my phone and email every few minutes, wondering when the hell Chloe is going to respond.

  Frustrated at her lack of response, I give in and call her. I can’t believe her curt answer of, “What?”

  This woman. I demand lunch without any plan for it. I’m annoyed, wanting to put her in check, but as I hang up I experience no satisfaction. I didn’t put her in check, I put my ass in check for the need to see her again, unwilling to wait until Monday. Sending a text to Everett, I let him know when I’ll need him. One last call to settle lunch delivery allows me to turn my full attention to work.

  ***

  Chloe

  I step out onto the street outside the building to find a car waiting with the engine running. A man gets out to open the door, nodding at me. Enzo is inside.

  “Sorry, I got caught on the phone with a client.” I’m all of two minutes late. Okay, it’s not Enzo I hate, it’s myself for getting all weak at how close he is. He’s in a black suit today, with a pristine white shirt and a black tie. Men everywhere wore it on a daily basis but on him, I can’t think of anything sexier. That cologne he’s wearing is worth a thousand dollars an ounce; I’m pretty sure it’s part liquor considering the way it sinks into my blood, leaving me dizzy, intoxicated. Enough, you can’t do this every time. I stare resolutely out the window, but it doesn’t work, every breath I take is full of him.

  “Glad you could tear yourself away,” he rumbles. That works, just keep him at his asshole best.

  “So sorry, sir. My apologies,
you are quite right. My world revolves around you and you alone. Nothing exists but you. I shan’t forget ever again.”

  His laughter fills the car. Why can’t he react the way I expect him to? “Missed you too, Chloe.”

  I scoff. “You wish. I think it’s more that you’ve gone one whole night without one of your girlfriends. Don’t try and slot me into their place. I have a little more respect for myself for that.”

  A dark chuckle pulls my eyes from the street outside to him. Those black eyes, glittering obsidian, meet mine. Ah damn it, I’m wet all over again. How the hell does he do that? “More respect than a mutual understanding of one night of pleasure. No lies, no promises we both know we won’t keep. How is that not respectful?”

  “First off, I’m worth more than one night. How is it respectful to not even truly know a woman before you fuck her? You can’t know someone after a few hours. I think it’s gross. While you might think the woman is fine with it, deep down she’s hoping you’ll want more, that you’ll think she’s worth more than one night. And what’s more, I’m pretty sure you know it. But you get to hide behind the fact you said the right thing and she agreed. It’s all bullshit. No, I’ll skip all that. I have two vibrators, I’m good.”

  He has no response; satisfaction fills me at shutting him up. When we go inside, I’m surprised to find the top of the piano filled with six different sample paint cans and six small paintbrushes. There are also two different bags of takeout from a sushi place I love.

  “I want to paint a few samples first before we eat so it has time to dry. Then once we’re done I can see which color I want.”

  I nod and start popping off the tops of the cans. Enzo grabs two paint cans and brushes and goes into the living room. I take two of each and follow him. The colors he picked are different than what I thought he would go with. One of the colors I have is a maroon, the other a hunter green. He has a slate blue and deep ocean blue. We paint a large block of each color. By the time I finish with my two squares, Enzo is already back with the other two colors, a dark yellow and a red a shade lighter than the maroon. Satisfied, we take the time to put the tops on the cans and the small paint brushes in a paint pan.

  He grabs the bags and I follow him into the dining room. Setting down the food, he checks his carryout box then slides it over to me. Opening it, it’s my usual order of shrimp tempura and a salmon roll with a side of spicy mayo. We eat for a few minutes without talking.

  “Sorry, I forgot drinks.”

  “It’s fine, no big deal. How did you know my order?”

  A shoulder lifts. “I didn’t. I asked them if they knew your order and they did. Dante mentioned you two going to lunch at the restaurant before.”

  I search my memory. “We haven’t gone there in like a year. You remembered it from a year ago?”

  Another single shoulder lifts. “I have one of those memories. It’s one of the things that’s helped me get where I am today.”

  His attention is on his food, and his cell phone. This is crap; I have gotten what I wanted. My rude words offended him enough to push him away. Except...it’s as if the sun has disappeared entirely. “What made you start a hedge fund?”

  Enzo’s eyes are fixed on his phone. “I wanted something different. Are you done?”

  I look down. Even though I have half of my roll left and only ate one of the large shrimp, I’m done. “Yeah.”

  I start packing up the remnants of the food and toss it in the trash. Enzo has left the room; I find him in the living room studying the dried paint blocks. “I think I’ll wait until we meet with the architect on Monday. I don’t like the dark blue is all I know for sure.”

  “Okay. Should I call in an interior designer for this? I’m—”

  A firm shake of his head. “I’m tired of interior designers. I don’t want someone coming in, at least not yet. If it gets to the point I’m not happy with it, I’ll call someone in.”

  He’s not even looking at me. I’m frustrated with him, and with myself. “Enzo, look, I get that there’s a...I don’t know, chemistry or some sort of attraction or whatever, but it’s not—I don’t want to get involved with anyone, and you and me, let’s face it, it would be a disaster.”

  Oh shit, it’s back the heat is scorching me from the inside out. The asshole knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Anyone at all? Because you hate men. Why is that exactly?”

  “I don’t hate men. I simply have yet to meet more than a handful that weren’t complete and utter fuckers.”

  “Because your dad left you and your mother, and your grandfather, despite owning half of Boston, didn’t help your mother leaving you both homeless. Two men screw you over and the rest of the male population has to pay for their sins?” He’s edging closer, too close. I back up, intent on keeping space between us.

  “Oh please, it was a little more than that, although they showed me you don’t need a man to be happy. I like my life the way it is. I’m not interested in changing it for anyone, it doesn’t matter anyway. In a few weeks you’ll get bored and move on to the next woman, a prettier one who makes way more sense than me. I’m not interested in turning my life or myself inside out for a storm in a teacup.”

  Shaking his head, he backs me up against the piano. I have nowhere to go, then he’s against me and I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m sinking into him, my body at war with my mind. His hands go around my waist then lift me onto the piano; oh, this is much better. No, damn it. Shaking my head, I try to push him away, only my hands find his shoulders and cling. A chuckle blows over my neck and turns my bones liquid.

  “A storm in a teacup? No, I don’t think so. Not by a long shot.” A sigh comes from deep within his chest. His lips move over my ear as a hand goes into my hair. His grip tight, he pulls my head back, leaving my throat open to him. Freak, oh god I’m a freak; hot, wet heat floods my core. Soft, firm, his lips press against the thumping of my heart at the base of my neck. Velvet wet, his tongue glides over heated skin. A moan comes out of me; actual words are too hard to form.

  Enzo presses into me where my legs have opened wide for him, and instantly my hips buck up to meet him, desperate for more. He’s driving me crazy as his lips feather over my neck, along my jaw, please. I drive my hands into his hair, soft, silky, and pull him down to me. I want to kill him when he laughs against my cheek. Then his tongue glides along the seam of my lips. I gasp at what I swear is electricity skimming along my skin. When his mouth covers mine, the world around us falls away. I fall, further and further into his kiss, into him, nothing matters, exists except Enzo. Deeper, enough isn’t close to enough I want more, I need more, I don’t even realize how frantic I’ve become until Enzo’s hands catch mine and bring them to his chest. He tears his mouth from mine, ripping a cry of agony from me.

  “I know, angel, I know,” he whispers in Italian along my ear as his arms tighten around me. The trembling slowly dies away and is replaced with shame. I try to push him away. “No, none of that. Settle, Chloe.”

  I double my efforts and he lets me go with a sigh. Fuck, why do I feel lost without him the moment I’m out of his arms? “I told you no, Enzo. Why the fuck can’t you listen? No, damn it.”

  A hand goes around my wrist, pulling me up against him. Damn it, I melt instantly. His lips are against my cheek. “Say it louder, say it with meaning.” The words won’t come; my fractured breathing won’t allow for more than gasping breaths. “It’s a storm all right, but this could never be contained to a teacup.”

  I give in, hating him, hating myself as I move to press my lips at the edge of his. He rewards me with a blinding smile that steals all the air from my body. This kiss is softer, sweeter, and I’m dying for more when he ends it.

  I’m in a sweet haze all the way back to the office, with barely any memory of the passing time until we’re walking into the building. I try to pull my hand from Enzo’s, surprised to find he has it, only he doesn’t let me go.

  Once we’re in the elevator, he pulls me
tight against him. “I want to see you tonight.”

  I’m shaking my head before he even finishes talking. “This is crazy. I don’t think—”

  “Then don’t think.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “You think I want to be attracted to a bitter, broken beautiful woman who is a smartass and who will do her best to make me earn every single step forward we take and pay for every single error I make? It goes both ways. I’ll call you.” I had no idea the elevator had stopped at my floor and he was holding the door open until he gently pushes me out.

  I’m left staring at the closed doors as I turn over what he said. I’m not bitter and broken. Am I broken? Well fuck him, so is he.

  8

  Chloe

  I’m pacing my living room, wondering where the hell Russell is and why I’m home. Enzo knows where I live and it’s almost seven o’clock. What the hell? He says he wants to see me tonight then nothing, no call or text to ask or even per Enzo’s usual MO, to tell me when he’s picking me up. It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m not going. No, this is done. Like done, done. I’m not bitter, but damn it I am broken, and I don’t need Enzo breaking me anymore.

  The asshole. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what he said for longer than ten minutes at a time. I’m not even a little hurt that he thought I was a bad idea, but he was willing to overcome his doubts in order to fuck me. What the fuck ever, all he had going for him was he was rich and okay he was gorgeous, but those were superficial things, and okay his cock did feel like he was—enough, stop thinking about that. Crap, I’m wet again. This is such bullshit. See, it’s happening again, one kiss, okay, two, but two damn kisses and I’m all tangled up again. Which is exactly what I didn’t want.

  My phone rings from where it’s sitting on the ottoman we use for a coffee table. I jump but don’t go near it, it’s Enzo’s ringtone. Nope, I’m not touching it. I hit the overhead lights in the living room, sending the room into darkness, then make a run for my bedroom. In my room I have blackout curtains, so I turn on the bedside lamp and huddle into the middle of the bed. Pepe jumps onto my bed, meowing at me; I’m pretty sure I hear judgement in his meow. Cetta nuzzles me then she bats at my face. Cetta isn’t much for chatting.