Page 122 of Brutal Heir

With a raised eyebrow, he said, “All I just heard was—please bend me over your desk.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, then slammed the office door shut.

CHAPTER 33

SEBASTIAN

Thoughts of the curve of her naked ass bent over my desk would torment me for the rest of the day.

Fuck, she amused the hell out of me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with a woman. My amusement at Sabrina’s bratty remark was cut off by the entrance of my father.

Without so much as a greeting, he tossed a folded newspaper onto the conference table and headed straight to the espresso. He bit into a biscotti then spat it out, tossing the biscuit back onto the tray.

“Merda! Why do you get biscotti from Dolce Vita Patisserie? They are shit. You know I prefer the ones from Pane e Amore.”

I took a seat behind my desk. “And you are more than welcome to get biscotti from there for your office, but you’re in my office now.”

He rounded on me, pointing a finger. “Don’t take that tone with me. Buono a nulla. This used to be my office.”

Suppressing a sigh, I met my father’s glare. “Exactly. Past tense.”

Even in his sixties, Fabrizio Sebastian Diamanti was still a man to be reckoned with.

In his Armani tweed coat, sweater, and elegantly tied scarf, he was the epitome of Italian class and sophistication.

Too bad that only went skin deep.

At his core, my father was a piece-of-shit human being.

A selfish man with no moral compass, who cared more about the public perception of our family than he did about the actual well-being of his family.

And I was my father’s son.

He brushed the crumbs off his hands. “Where are we with the little whore?”

I clenched my hand into a fist.

He meant Sabrina.

“Don’t call her that.”

He settled into the high-backed leather chair in front of the fireplace.

Leaning forward, he moved a pawn. “She’s the bastard daughter of an opportunistic slut. What should I call her?”

My men had uncovered ample evidence that Abriana Dolce Badalamenti, Sabrina's mother, was more a victim of the judge’s attentions than a willing participant. And given her family’s wealth, she certainly was no gold digger.

Gathering a stack of files, I loudly banged them into order against my desk. “I’m a busy man. Is there something I can help you with, Father?”

He opened a solid-gold cigarette case and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette.

Placing it between his lips, he searched his pockets for a lighter while he talked out of the corner of his mouth. “If you’re such a busy man, then why are you wasting your time playing the pussy with the little whore and not doing as you’re told?”

After picking up the silver table lighter I kept next to a humidor of Fuente Fuente Opus X cigars, I crossed to my father and flicked the lid to trigger the flame. “We have discussed this. There is no need to resort to violence to settle the matter.”

My father’s plan was to kidnap Sabrina and inform the judge we had his hidden bastard daughter, which was not too far off from my own plan.

Hell, I’d already basically kidnapped her just to get her to Rome.