2

My father sat on the couch in front of the fire, legs crossed as he worked on his phone.

I sat on the other couch, feeling the heat of the fire on my face as I looked out the window and saw the illuminated terrace. I saw a flash of headlights, so I knew our guests had arrived.

A moment later, one of the men entered the room and came to my father’s side. He didn’t speak, not until my father acknowledged him with a stare.

My father locked his phone before he met the man’s gaze. “Yes?”

“Your dinner guest has arrived.”

“Excellent.” He got to his feet and smoothed out his jacket even though there wasn’t a single wrinkle. He adjusted his sleeves as well, straightening the collared shirt tucked underneath. “Ready, sweetheart?”

I nodded before I got to my feet, slightly nervous at the prospect of such an intimate evening.

“I’ll do all the talking. Your only job is to listen.”

“Alright.”

He regarded me before he came close. “Or you can excuse yourself for the evening if you prefer.”

“I’m fine. Just a bit nervous.”

“Why?” He slipped his hands into his pockets.

“When you talk about dying, it always makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’m not arrogant enough to assume that will never happen. It probably won’t happen, but it may.” He studied me. “Unless this isn’t what you want. Because it’s okay if it’s not.”

“No, it is. I just can’t imagine running business as usual, knowing you’re gone.”

A gentle smile moved on to his lips. “Let’s not worry about the future when we can enjoy the present.” He stepped to the side so I could pass, lifting his arm for me to move ahead. “Come on.”

We made our way to the dining room, the back wall a solid window that showed the garden outside, blue hydrangeas and white flowers with beautiful greenery. Drops were on the large leaves from the drip line.

The man was already there, standing at the window and admiring the garden. Dressed in all black—black jeans and a black shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows—he stood with his muscular back to us. His shoulders were wide and bulky too. He had short dirty-blond hair, and even from the rear, his sharp jawline was prominent. When he heard us, he turned to greet us.

I halted on the spot as my father continued forward. Everything seemed to stop—time, my heartbeat, everything.

“Axel.” My father extended his hand to shake his. “Wonderful to have you for dinner.”

Axel was slightly taller than my father, who was already tall, and I’d inherited that height myself. But he was far more muscular, his arms stretching the fabric of his sleeves with the bulkiness. He had a strong posture, and his hard gaze softened once he greeted my father. His crystal-blue eyes were confident. A handsome smile moved over his face as he shook my father’s hand. “Thank you for the invitation.” The baritone of his voice was so distinctive, like an echo at the bottom of a well.

I was supposed to emulate my father’s confidence, but it left me as I stared at this man. Handsome men came and went, but Axel was in a different stratosphere. He looked like he belonged in Milan, modeling clothes and underwear for the major brands in the big window shops. He was too beautiful for a life of crime.

Axel’s eyes shifted to me, and that smile melted away instantly. His stare was hard and focused, as if he knew me from somewhere but couldn’t place me. He was one of those people who didn’t shy away from eye contact, and even though it was probably obvious how uncomfortable I was, he maintained the stare.

My father looked at me, expecting me to move forward.

I swallowed and feigned confidence I didn’t feel. “Nice to meet you, Axel.” I extended my hand to take his. “I’m Scarlett.”

He took mine and squeezed with his big fingers, the cords popping up his forearms as he gripped me. After a shake, he released me. “Beautiful name.” Even though my father stood right there, Axel’s eyes were stuck on mine like glue.

I had to break the eye contact and step away. Heat flushed through my body, and then I started to sweat despite the evening chill that now pressed against the window.

My father pulled out my chair for me so I could sit beside him.

I dropped into the chair and placed the linen across my lap, needing to do something to distract myself from the gorgeous man who moved to the other side of the table. He took the seat across from my father so he wasn’t directly across from me, but I wasn’t spared from his intense stare.

The butler served the wine and placed a basket of fresh bread on the table. Neither man reached for it, and they immediately launched into business.

It was clear Axel wasn’t refined the way my father was. His posture was more relaxed, giving off I-don’t-give-a-fuck vibes. He didn’t touch the wine either, like he preferred something stronger.

“May I ask how you pulled off these relationships?” My father swirled his wine and took a drink.

“Through generations,” Axel said. “My family was well-connected to the Medici family, and we’ve remained connected to everyone who matters ever since. Snooty aristocracy is heavy in my blood.”

“Then why are you in this game?”

Axel sat with one elbow on the table, his fingers scratching his jawline as he considered what to say. “It’s a long story…but my family cut me off a long time ago. I forged a new path, and I chose a career that would piss them off the most.” He grinned. “It’s been fun.”

Definite I-don’t-give-a-fuck vibes.