CHAPTER EIGHT: OLD FLAMES
991 Words
(Vittorio)
“Sir, please. You can’t just go in without an appointment.”
Giovanni’s assistant hurried after me, his voice laced with panic.
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned my head toward him.
“You better shut up before I lose it.”
The words came out cold enough to make him freeze.
Good.
I turned away and continued walking.
I stepped into Giovanni’s private elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. Through the closing doors, I caught one last glimpse of his assistant standing there with a terrified expression.
The doors slid shut.
I couldn’t care less.
Nothing could calm the storm raging inside me.
If Giovanni thought he could keep taking everything from me simply because he had power, connections, and half the business world trembling at the sound of his name, he was mistaken.
But the Belladonna deal?
That one was mine.
I had spent weeks negotiating it. Countless hours. Endless meetings. I had worked for it.
And Giovanni had taken it from me with nothing more than a few phone calls.
Because he could.
Because people feared him.
Because apparently, being Giovanni Ricci meant the world bent whenever he walked into a room.
Not this time.
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped out, fury rolling through me as I headed straight for his office.
Then I stopped.
My anger disappeared.
My breath caught.
There she was.
The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
She walked down the hallway without looking up, her attention seemingly consumed by whatever was on her mind.
Marina Bianchi.
I had seen photographs of her before.
None of them had prepared me for this.
I had carried a ridiculous crush on that woman for far too long, and now she was standing only a few feet away from me.
In person.
Up close.
I almost forgot why I was there.
“Marina Bianchi…”
Her name slipped from my lips like a whisper.
She stopped.
Slowly, she looked up at me, curiosity flickering across her beautiful face.
“Mr. Vittorio Ricci?”
She knew who I was.
I hadn’t expected that.
A smile tugged at my lips.
“Yes, Ms. Bianchi. Pleased to finally meet you.”
I took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it.
Her lips curved into a warm smile.
For a moment, I simply stared.
Beautiful.
No.
Goddess was a better word.
“All pleasure’s mine. I’ll go let Mr. Giovani know you’re here.”
She began to turn.
“Don’t bother.”
She looked back at me.
“I’d rather get to know you better, if you don’t mind.” I smiled. “Perhaps you’d let me take you to dinner sometime?”
She blinked, clearly caught off guard.
“Sir, I…”
“Vittorio.”
The voice behind me was enough to make the temperature in the hallway drop.
Marina and I turned simultaneously.
Giovanni stood at the entrance to his office.
His expression was darker than usual.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were fixed on me with a fury he was barely bothering to conceal.
“What are you doing here,” he asked, his voice deceptively calm, “and why are you talking to my personal assistant?”
I glanced at Marina.
His personal assistant?
Of course.
Why did Giovanni have to have everything?
I pulled my business card from my pocket and held it toward Marina.
“This is my card. Call me whenever you’re free for that date.”
She hesitated before reaching for it.
Giovanni’s voice cut through the silence.
“You dare not take that card, Ms. Bianchi.”
Marina froze.
I looked at her.
Fear flickered in her eyes.
She quickly lowered her hand.
“I’d take my leave now.”
She turned and walked away.
I watched her disappear down the hallway.
I should have been thinking about Belladonna.
I should have been thinking about the reason I had come here.
Instead, I found myself watching the woman I had spent far too long admiring from a distance.
She was perfection.
And I wasn’t about to let Giovanni scare me away from her.
I finally turned and followed him into his office.
I closed the door behind me.
Giovanni was already seated behind his desk, his eyes locked on mine.
“Cosa stai facendo qui?”
His Italian was clipped and cold.
I stepped closer.
“You need to pull out of the Belladonna deal, Giovani.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I worked my ass off to secure that deal, and you took it from me with the bat of an eye.”
He leaned back in his chair.
Then scoffed.
“Why don’t you tell them that yourself, Vittorio?”
My fists tightened.
“You’re an arrogant bastard. They came to me first, you stupido.”
He added.
His eyes narrowed.
My blood boiled.
“You’ll pay for this.”
I turned toward the door.
“Stay away from Ms. Bianchi.”
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned around.
There was something different in his voice now.
Something personal.
I stared at him.
“Why, brother?”
His expression hardened.
I smiled.
“La amo, Giovani.”
The words hung between us.
For the first time since I had walked into that office, Giovanni looked genuinely shocked.
Then anger replaced it.
“You what?”
He rose from his chair.
“You don’t even know her.”
A quiet laugh escaped me.
I didn’t know Marina?
That was almost funny.
“Not that I owe you an explanation,” I said, taking a step toward him, “but I’ve known her for quite some time.”
His eyes narrowed.
“We even…”
I deliberately stopped.
Giovanni’s expression changed.
He looked impatient.
Then anxious.
“You both what?”
I let the silence stretch.
A mocking smile slowly spread across my face.
“We dated.”
Silence.
Giovanni’s fist clenched.
His jaw tightened.
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