“Oh. Great. I see you’ve met Sebastian.”
two
The sugary liquiddrips from the collar of my black silk shirt. I don’t blame her, I deserved it. In my defense, the moment I saw her flawless caramel skin and crimson red lips, I was aching to feel them wrapped around my cock. Her wild curls frame her face, pulled back in a way that keeps them out of her eyes but barely tamed. Damn, this woman is a fucking stunner. It’s a shock to find a woman so uninterested in crawling on her knees the moment she sees my face.
I’ve spent decades with women kneeling at my feet, begging for a taste of the Arsenio Empire and everything it offers. They don’t want me. Not the real me, at least. Hell, they don’t even know me. They just want the money, the cars, the expensive clothes, and the jewelry. And of course, the drugs. They all want the drugs.
But here, no one knows my name. For once in my life, there are no sycophants lining up to kiss my ass. I’m really not sure how to handle it. There have always been those who criticized my father for marrying my mother and naming me as his heir, however, no one dared cross the man. He ruled with an iron fistuntil the day we laid him into the ground. He would be ashamed to see what I’ve made of this family.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve generated billions for Fortuna Nera. I’ve grown our reach far beyond the borders of Italy. Yet there are plenty of those, mainly my uncles, who don’t believe the Arsenio line should ever have mixed with the Spanish. That I simply shouldn’t exist. My own flesh and blood believe I shouldn’t be alive, but in this business, it’s not something one would find surprising.
Yet here I am, standing in this fucking coffee shop in some backwater town in South Carolina. Covered in iced coffee because I can’t control my mouth.
“This fucking guy?!” she screeches. “I think the fuck not.”
The coffee shop cleared out quickly, leaving Helo, the irate barista, and myself here alone.
“Well, she certainly has a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” I smirk, not helping my case at all.
“If you want somewhere to live, you’ll shut the fuck up while you’re behind.” Helo says out of the corner of his mouth.
He grabs a few napkins from the counter, shoving them in my direction before whispering something to the fuming barista. She gestures wildly back at him, obviously not happy with whatever he’s telling her. She is glaring daggers at me over his shoulder, making my cock twitch in my pants.
Fuck, I love a feisty woman.
This isnotthe reason I’m here. I need to focus on regrouping. On figuring out what the hell is going on inside Fortuna Nera and eliminating the cancer inside my operation. Just thinking about it makes me want to put a fucking bullet in my skull, but I know it must be done. As my father always taught me, like all things in life, there is no end until death.
“Please, allow me to start again. I apologize for my behavior. I have travelled a long distance, and I am quite tired. But I makeno excuses. I am Sebastian. It’s very nice to meet you, miss…?” I ask, interrupting Helo and stepping around him to offer her my hand.
She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her tits up. It takes a ridiculous amount of self-control to keep my eyes trained on her amber ones, but I manage. Her expression doesn’t budge.
“This is Vanessa Diaz. She is the woman kind enough to offer to rent the apartment above the coffee shop to you, so play nice, please?” Helo says, glaring back at me.
I give him a short nod before retracting my hand and sliding it into my pocket. The tiny gold hoop in her nose glints against the light as her nose twitches, and I stifle a smile.
“Well, I would appreciate the space. However, I’m happy to have anywhere to change out of this shirt at the moment.” I smirk.
Her eyes gleam, something devilish banked there, but she doesn’t apologize.
“You’re welcome to change in the bathroom over there after you clean up this mess off my floor. I’ll grab the rental agreement if you two want to have a seat at the table by the window. We can go over a few things.” She doesn’t ask, she demands. I’ve never cleaned a floor in my fucking life, but for this woman, I’m actually considering it.
She throws a towel across the counter at my chest, and I catch it, completely speechless. Helo stands next to us, watching the exchange with an expression that is equal parts amused and concerned. I’m sure, for her safety. He’s seen me cut off a man’s finger for pointing it in my direction. Yet here I am, crouching to the floor to clean the disaster of ice and coffee she threw my way, and I almost want to laugh about it.
“She has a…commanding presence, doesn’t she?” I scoff, and Helo just laughs.
“I’ll make sure the paperwork is in order, you just change into something a little less dark roasted.” he says, sitting at a table by the window.
I drop the wet towel into the sink behind the counter as she watches me like a hawk out of the corner of her eye. She really is a beautiful woman. How a woman like that ended up in this town is a mystery to me. But hell. I’m stuck here, too.
Walking to my car, I grab a clean shirt out of the bag I quickly threw in the trunk in my hurry to leave Florida. Bundled underneath the minimal amount of clothes I was able to bring along is the one possession I refuse to travel without. I shove it back down to the bottom of the bag, refusing to think about it right now. There are definitely more pressing matters at hand.
Not bothering to change inside, I strip the wet shirt off, tossing it in the trunk and slipping on a clean one. I opt for white this time, hoping to make me look less like the devil as a dry laugh sounds behind me.
“You really should be more careful doing that in broad daylight, you know. The old biddies would probably have heart attacks. It’s not every day a tattooed Italian adonis strips in front of a coffee shop in this town, Seb.” A soft, feminine voice says from the storefront behind me.
“Ah, Miss Willow. How lovely to see you this morning. I would apologize, but I’m not sorry. I would rather you be able to see all of this than have to see only your husband for the rest of your life.” I smirk, dragging the t-shirt down my abdomen slowly. Willow, Helo’s wife, is the manager of the tattoo shop next door, and over the years of our business connections, I’ve come to know her well.
“I’m good. One cocky, dominating man in my life is more than enough, thanks.” She laughs, waving as she walks back into the shop.
