Paolo’s Pride: A Bad Boy Romance (Sinful Series)

by Scott Wylder

  At first, Paolo tossed down the paper and huffed in disbelief. No woman so beautiful and perfect could be poor and working as a waitress.

  Then, as the realization that she was the daughter of his mother’s servant, he became angry. Sofia had called her mother a personal assistant, not a handmaid. Paolo’s mother never actually had a personal assistant; his father had taken care of the business, so she had no need of an assistant; only the need for a maid.

  He brewed about it, bouncing between anger and lust, as the night ran on toward dawn, heedless of his conundrum. He couldn’t be seen with a poor woman at his side. His friends would never tire of making him the butt of their jokes, if he did that. He couldn’t be seen in her part of town, at an apartment building—what would all his friends think of him? They’d smear his reputation, is exactly what would happen.

  Paolo couldn’t have that. He wouldn’t settle for someone who was lowly and poor and struggling.

  He dialed his occasional girlfriend’s number. “Maria, are you free tonight? I need your special attention.”

  Her giggle answered him all he needed to know. She’d be there and when she was finished, she would be standing there waiting for him to toss some money, or some special thing her way, which he always did without fail.

  “I can be there in an hour, sexy.” She hung up.

  Looking at the phone as if it might bite him, Paolo hung up and instantly wished he hadn’t called her. Though she was always eager, almost over-eager, to please him in any way in the bedroom.

  He showered and awaited Maria’s arrival, trying to push thoughts of Sofia from his mind. At least Maria had some standing as a very wealthy woman who would one day inherit all of her father’s money—and that was a lot. What did Sofia have to offer him? A wild tongue and no respect? He let that thought linger until it made him angry and then he threw himself into thoughts of Maria and what she would do for him when she arrived.

  Chapter 4

  Ignored Invitations

  Sofia had gone to collect the mail and saw that another invitation to Paolo’s mansion was in it. Without opening it, she tossed it into the trash bin in her tiny kitchen. What her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt a thing. She didn’t want to be stuck going to another horrible dinner party where she stuck out like mud on a wedding dress. The remainder of the mail was, of course, bills that were either due now or were past due.

  She had more pressing issues than another invitation to go to that pompous man’s house for any reason. Like how to pay bills and buy food. Though it wasn’t exactly fair, life had dealt her this hand and she had to figure out how to play it to her advantage.

  That didn’t leave time in her schedule for being a rich brat’s entertainment; his plaything. She couldn’t risk it anyway. What if she fell in love with him? He would surely be one that would break her heart and not even feel bad about it later. Not that she harbored any sort of feelings for him at the moment, but she was wise enough to know that such feelings could develop if she spent enough time with him.

  It was best to stay away at all costs.

  The next week, another invitation came in the mail from Paolo Peretti. And, again, she tossed it into the trash without opening it and went on with her schedule of working and doing the best she could to make ends meet. Soon, she forgot about the trashed invitations.

  Until the next one showed up in her mail a couple weeks later.

  Laughing at the persistence, she fought the urge to open this one—just to see what kind of event he was inviting her to attend. No one could have so many events in a month. Could they? Sofia tossed the third invitation and left for her shift at the diner.

  Returning home that evening late, Sofia was surprised to see her mother sitting at the little kitchen table with all three of the previously discarded invitations from Paolo.

  “Mother, are you feeling better?” Sofia dropped her purse and keys on the table by the front door and walked into the kitchen to sit at the table with her mother. She really didn’t want to discuss the invitations with her, but they were lying open on the table and Sofia really saw no way around the subject.

  “I’m feeling a bit better this evening compared to most evenings.” Mother smiled and waited for Sofia to sit. “So, what’s this all about, Sofia? Is there something going on here that I should know about? Is it serious?”

  “What? No! There’s absolutely nothing between us and there never will be, Mother.”

  “Oh. Really? Well, one of you is sure about that anyway.” She raised her eyebrows and motioned to the invitations with one finger. “Does he know there’s nothing between you? Or, did someone forget to give him that memo?”

  Rolling her eyes dramatically, Sofia huffed out a sigh. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t know after that dinner party I tried to attend.” Sofia recounted the whole long story about the dinner party, and made sure to include everything she thought about Paolo and his indulgent lifestyle.

  Nodding slowly, Mother smiled. Sofia hated that small, knowing smile that said her mother knew more about something than she was going to tell.

  “If you say so, Sofia, I believe you. But you should take a read before you throw them back into the trash, I think. You might change your mind, dear. I’m not always going to be here for you to have to look after, you know. You should find you a good man; there’s nothing wrong with finding a wealthy and good man.” She tapped the table with her fingernail and stood. “I’m going to take a rest now before I take a shower. I’ll talk to you again about this later, Sofia.”

  “Mother, I don’t want to talk about this later. There’s nothing to talk about. This has nothing to do with you; it has everything to do with Paolo—he’s arrogant, proud, and has not a single good trait, in my opinion. Please. I don’t want to talk about him later. I’d rather talk about something nice with you over dinner.” She tried to smile at her mother, but she had already turned to walk away, chuckling.

  She was glad her mother had a good time reading the invitations and that she thought it was nice that her daughter was having a tiff with a boyfriend, but it wasn’t so. Sofia picked up the invitations and started to crumple them without reading again, but decided to take a peek at just one of them. What could it hurt? The events were over anyway.

  Standard invitation. That’s all she saw from the one she looked at. Dinner party starting at six in the evening on a Saturday already past. She crumpled the papers and tossed them into the trash without looking at the other two.

  Three days later, as she started out the door to go to work, she opened the front door and nearly bumped into Paolo’s man, Tomas. Sofia was so startled that she whacked him with her purse and jumped backward into her apartment before realizing who it was.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Romano. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just delivering yet another invitation from Mr. Peretti to you. Since you’re here, you could just take the invitation and I’ll be on my way. It’ll please him to know I actually handed it to you this time instead of just leaving it in your mail.” Tomas smiled and offered her the envelope.

  Recovering from her shock, Sofia reached for it reluctantly. “Tomas? Right?”

  “Yes, Miss Romano, my name’s Tomas.” He didn’t smile but he didn’t actually frown either.

  “Tomas, would you do me a huge favor when you return to Mr. Peretti?” She smiled.

  “Certainly, Miss.” He broke a tiny smile out, tried it on, found it lacking and put it away again quickly.

  Sofia chuckled at his stoicism. “Could you please tell him to stop sending invitations to events that I’m not going to attend? I did it once only to go in my mother’s stead because she was ill and couldn’t make it; it’s not something I shall be repeating in the future.”

  Tomas’ eyes grew large and he looked like a fish out of water for a moment.

  “Well, Miss, he doesn’t like bad news, and I’m afraid that he would take that as very bad news indeed. Have you read the invitations at all?” He looked suspiciou
sly at her.

  Looking away, she said, “Not exactly but Mother did. I don’t have time for games, Tomas. I work for a living.”

  “Yes, Miss. I am aware of that. These aren’t events per se; they are more like personal invitations to you to spend time with him. Alone. Not parties.”

  “Okay. That doesn’t change who or how he is; nor does it change my answer, Tomas. Please tell him. Now, I really must go to work before I’m late. Thank you.” She waved the invitation at him as she walked to her car, tossing the envelope to the passenger’s floorboard.

  Chapter 5

  Putting His Pride Aside

  Pacing the floor of his library-office, Paolo listened as Tomas recounted, for the third time, what had transpired at Sofia’s apartment. He had demanded to hear every nuance of speech, every detail of body language—everything. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Tomas retold the story, nothing changed and there was nothing that would indicate that Sofia might change her mind.

  “That’s fine, Tomas. Fucking recorder, you are. Do you have no emotions whatsoever, man?” He grew angry at Tomas’ obvious lack of inflection, opinion, anything. How could he remain so unmoved by all this?

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Tomas stood with his hands clasped low behind his back, looking out the far window at the landscape.

  “Of course you are. That’s what I’m paying you for, eh?” He tossed a pen he’d been carrying and it clattered off the desk and skittered across the tiled floor toward the hearth. “What the hell am I supposed to do, Tomas? I can’t be seen at her apartment building; I can’t be seen slumming with someone who’s so poor and I certainly cannot be seen dogging after her. I wouldn’t have nearly so many friends if the word got out. I can’t risk my standing in the community.” He ran his hands through his jet-black hair, leaving it rumpled and messy as he continued to pace.

  “But?” Tomas asked after a moment.

  “What do you mean but? There is no but.” He stopped and propped his forearm against the frame of the veranda door, letting the breeze blow against his overheated face and torso.

  “There’s always a but, sir. If you don’t mind my saying so.” Tomas remained unmoved.

  Paolo looked from Tomas to the property outside and back again. Grinning, he moved to his desk and sat. “Tomas, when you’re right, you’re right. There is a but. But I can’t stop thinking about her. But I must have her. But I want her. There. Is that better? Now, what am I supposed to do in this situation?” He sat back in his chair with his hands clasped lightly behind his head.

  “Just my opinion, sir, but I would say that you should set aside your pride for a while and follow your heart.” Tomas only glanced at Paolo once.

  “Follow my heart and forget my pride, huh? You think that’s what all this is? That I’m just too proud?”

  His temper was rising out of the muck and mire of his longing for the working-class Sofia. He knew he was just too proud to pursue the woman; that wasn’t the point, though. No one had ever turned him down flat without an answer of any sort. No one had ever simply ignored a request sent personally by Paolo Francesco Peretti. Ever.

  “You asked what to do and that was just my opinion, sir. It was no reflection on how you may or may not act or the way you are seen by others.” Tomas kept his gaze averted to the big window.

  “I did. Tomas…go away.”

  Tomas wasted no time in stepping out into the corridor. Paolo knew he would find a seat in the hallway and sit there, patiently, until he was called back into the room or until Paolo left the room, at which time, Tomas would be only a few steps behind.

  Paolo hated it when Tomas was right. Hated it. He stepped to the hearth and picked up the tossed ink pen, taking it back to the desk, meaning to write another invitation for Sofia. Looking at the blank paper, he was at a loss. It was as if Tomas’ revelation about his pridefulness had robbed Paolo of his flowery words; the silver-tongued charmer was absent in light of the harsh reality that he was very proud; maybe a bit too proud and vain.

  Instead of another unanswered, and unread, invitation, Paolo decided to go to her work and talk to her in person. It would be risky, but maybe worth it in the end, if he could get her to agree to seeing him. He thought he should be able to get there and talk to her without actually being seen by anyone who really mattered in his circle of friends. At least he hoped so.

  “Park in the back, Tomas. I don’t want anyone seeing me go in the front and put two and two together and come up with the idea that I’m out chasing this poor woman. I’m not chasing her, you know. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t have to chase a woman; they all come to me.” He stepped out and shut the door before Tomas could do more than nod.

  Walking to the door, Paolo had no idea what he was going to say or do exactly. He just had to see Sofia again. He pulled the door, but it was locked. He’d be reduced to knocking at that entrance; begging for entrance like a scoundrel dog begging for scraps.

  Turning on his heel, Paolo walked to a side door. That door, too, was locked against him. Growing angry, he stalked to the front door—damn whoever saw him there. He strode in, the diner was nearly full to capacity—not his ideal situation, but now that he was there, he was determined to accomplish what he’d set out to do.

  Sofia came rushing from the kitchen with a tray of food balanced on her left arm and carrying a pitcher of water in her right hand. In her rush by him, she didn’t even make eye contact, just sidestepped offered an apology and kept walking to a booth where a family sat eagerly awaiting their meal.

  Paolo followed her and waited behind her, smiling. Her attention to her job was endearing. She was sweet to the parents and funny for the kids, garnering smiles of appreciation and giggles all ‘round. He’d never seen her like that before. He’d never seen her but the once that he could recall. Paolo smiled for no reason that he could name as she stood and dropped the tray to her side and held it in place with her arm; she was finished with the family.

  Scribbling on a pad of paper, she sidestepped Paolo again. This time, he laughed.

  “Sofia?” He was still laughing as she turned all wide-eyed and shocked at hearing her name in a crowd of what he supposed was strangers.

  She stammered, her pen halted, and she stopped all movement, blinking several times. Recognition finally lit her eyes and her smile faltered, her eyes took on a serious expression.

  “Paolo.” She offered no more, only stood staring at him levelly.

  “Hello, Sofia. I wanted to talk to you for a minute.” He motioned outside.

  “No. I’m working, Paolo. Please. I’m not coming to another dinner or anything else at your house. I don’t fit into your world nor you into mine, so please, leave.” She turned to walk away and he caught her arm.

  Spinning on him, she was venomous. She jerked her arm away from his grasp. “Listen, I don’t know who you think you are or why you’re pursuing this so hard, but you need to leave me alone. I’m not a poor little girl who needs and begs for crumbs from your table. I don’t admire all your things that you bought with money you never earned. I don’t have time for your games but surely you have a list of women who have all the time in the world for you and your games. Goodbye, Paolo.”

  A fat man stepped to the front of the diner’s kitchen and, wiping his hands on a towel, yelled, “Sofia, this isn’t social hour. Your boyfriend needs to leave and talk to you after work. I pay you to wait tables and see to my guests, not stand and chitchat with your beau.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Rossi. He’s not my boyfriend and he was just leaving. He was just asking directions.” She glared up at Paolo and stalked off to the kitchen.

  Paolo was angry that Mr. Rossi had so rudely interrupted his conversation. He called to the man. “Mr. Rossi, could I have a word, please.”

  Mr. Rossi stepped out from behind the counter and confronted Paolo. He was a big man; not just fat, but tall and broad and heavily muscled. Actually the only fat was his oversized belly. He looked to be in his mid-fifties and a
ble to kick Paolo’s ass in a fight.

  “What do you want? A table? You want to order something to eat? Because I can help you with that, otherwise, buy a map and leave my establishment immediately. You’re upsetting the customers, sir.”

  Chapter 6

  Showoff

  Physically, Paolo was no match for Mr. Rossi; but there were many ways to get what one wanted without resorting to physical violence.

  Smiling, hoping to break the tension and ease the spotlight off himself, Paolo said, “Mr. Rossi, what would one have to do to have a conversation with your lovely waitress, Sofia?”

  Mr. Rossi eyed him from head to toe and back up. A greasy grin appeared on his large, oval face. “Mister, you could order one of everything on the menu and then you could talk to her as long as you like.”

  “Done. I want one of everything on the menu, then, Mr. Rossi. Where would you like me to sit and wait for this food?”

  Gasps from the crowded diner ensued. Patrons looked on now with great interest. Mr. Rossi’s face flushed a deep red and the anger in his eyes was obvious to all. Paolo smiled, or rather, smirked at the older man. He’d won and he knew it.

  “You don’t have the money for that, young man.” Mr. Rossi huffed, slapped the towel over his shoulder, and started walking away.

  “Oh, but I have more money than that, Mr. Rossi. Here. Would you like a handsome tip for the cook and the waitress included or should I make their checks out to them personally?”

  “Hah! I don’t take checks, Mister. I think you best leave before this takes an ugly turn.” Mr. Rossi had stopped and was glaring at Paolo.

  “That works, too, Mr. Rossi. I have cash, too. Now, you made an offer in front of all these good patrons and I have accepted that offer; you’re not really going to back out of it now, are you? What would they all think of you if you did such a thing?” Paolo turned to the first empty booth he could see and took a seat. “One of everything on the menu, if you please. I can pay now or after you deliver, if you don’t trust me.” He thumbed through his wallet.