Page 95 of Brutal Heir

She lowered her lashes. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is this in reference to the father you accuse me of colluding with?" I pressed. "What did you say his name was?”

It was a dangerous question.

The last thing I needed was her connecting me to Judge Delluci.

“I didn’t tell you his name. And I’m not going to. It was silly of me to think you were involved with him. It’s just…my mother put into my head never to trust— You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. My answer won’t change.”

I nodded. “So, like a little lost child, you’re letting your mother and father dictate your life?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

I pulled on a black shirt and buttoned it. “You’ve been offered the perfect job to launch your career with the best company in the world. You're rejecting it simply because it doesn't meet your mother's approval?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t get to do that.”

“Do what?”

"Behave as if this is all about my mommy issues and overlook what's going on between us.”

I adjusted my collar. “According to you, there is no us.”

She stormed out of the bedroom, firing right back, “That’s right. There is no us. We’ve had sex twice, and both times were a mistake.”

We returned to the lounge area. The staff were restocking liquor bottles on the bar shelves that had to be stowed during takeoff, while Oliver set up an espresso and Italian cookie display.

I waved my hand. “Enough. I require privacy.”

The staff cleared out.

I sat on the sofa and stretched my arms along the back. “So, if it’s not your mother, and there is no us, then tell me why.”

She paced in front of me. Her sapphire eyes sparkled as the corner of her full lips lifted.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the tops of my thighs while I anticipated what she was going to say next.

“You know what? You’re right. There is no reason why I shouldn’t take the job. As you say, it’s a dream opportunity for me.”

I intertwined my fingers. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way.”

She raised her palms. “And like you said, I’m a very talented fashion stylist. House of Diamanti would benefit from my legitimate, work-related skills.”

Rising, I crossed to the espresso machine, needing the distance to conceal my reaction to what I knew she would say next.

My steps were unhurried, deliberate.

I flipped the machine on, letting it warm as I reached for the grinder. “Your skills are considerable,” I prompted. My scoop of fresh espresso beans rattled into the hopper and sharp, mechanical grinding began to fill the air, a counterpoint to her measured footsteps.

She paced behind me, deliberately ignoring my comment. “So if all that is true, then you shouldn’t hesitate to agree to a few conditions. As part of our negotiation.”

I pulled the porta filter from its cradle and filled it with the finely ground coffee. I worked my fingers smoothly to level the grounds and reached for the tamper. Firmly pressing down, I achieved a perfectly compacted coffee, ensuring just the right pressure.

“You want one?” I asked, not bothering to turn as I locked the porta filter into the machine.

She shook her head, her reflection faintly visible in the polished chrome.

“Then go on,” I said, starting the brew. The hiss and gurgle of the machine filled the air. “I’m listening.”