I sat at the kitchen table in my house, information and photographs of Cato spread out everywhere. There was an open bag of candy I was munching on, along with my third cup of coffee. Fresh out of ideas, I sat there and tried to think of a plan.

I had nothing.

Cato was too much of a pig to seduce. He was too strong to take down. And he was too guarded for me to intercept him.

I had a greater chance of flying to the moon than making this work.

The last memory I had of him floated in my mind. He stood outside the elevator in his black boxers, his muscled chest heaving with rage. Everything about him was sexy, from his narrow hips to his muscular thighs. He looked at me like I was the biggest pain in the ass—but he was still sexy.

Such a damn pig.

I’d had my fair share of playboys and assholes, but Cato Marino was a whole new level.

The man thought he was God.

He thought he could do whatever he wanted without explanation. It was so selfish that he didn’t even consider what his date might want. The second I walked out of there, he probably called another woman to replace me. Then he fucked them both and forgot about me altogether.

Pig.

My phone rang, and someone I didn’t want to talk to was on the other line. “Yes, Damien?”

His smile was audible over the line. “Sweetheart, I love the happiness in your voice.”

“You call it happiness. I call it disgust. So what do you want?”

“Right to the point,” he said with a chuckle.

I cut to the chase before he could drag it out. “I’m still working on it. I’ve interacted with Cato a few times but haven’t figured out a way to make this work.”

“So you did decide to sleep with him.”

“No. Never said that.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. When do you think this is gonna happen?”

“I really don’t know,” I snapped. “You’ve given me a task that’s impossible to complete.”

“That doesn’t bode well for your father…”

Instead of pitying my father for being locked away, I was livid with him. If only he had listened to me, all of this wouldn’t be happening. He cared more about money than protecting his family—now I was the one fixing everything. I despised money with every fiber of my being. I didn’t miss a life of luxury, not when it came with so much hardship. My little house outside of Florence was perfect. I had enough money for everything I needed on a budget—and that was more than enough. “I’ll figure it out, Damien.”

“Alright. Just don’t take too long.” Click.

I set the phone down and shoved my hand back into the candy bag. I got a fistful of sugar then stuffed it into my mouth, not caring about the impact on my waistline. It wasn’t like I still needed to seduce Cato.

My phone started to ring again, this time with a number I didn’t recognize. I answered. “Siena.”

“Hello, Siena. How are you?” The deep voice over the line was inherently familiar, filled with a fatherly affection.

The image of Crow Barsetti popped into my mind, but that was ridiculous considering I hardly knew him. Our interactions had only lasted a handful of minutes. I’d had an immediate draw to him the last time I saw him, feeling that same sensation in my chest that I felt toward my own father. “Crow?”

“Yes.” He spoke with affection. “I have a distinctive voice, don’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” I was just threatened by Damien minutes ago, but that seemed so long ago now. Crow’s warmth washed away Damien’s coldness. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation a lot.”

Had he decided to help me?

“I haven’t changed my position on the matter. I’ve got a large family to think about. But I was able to make some calls and get some information for you.”

“Really?” I asked, gasping slightly. “Oh my god, thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say…”

“Well, it’s not a lot to work with, but Cato is looking for an art buyer to decorate his home in Tuscany. That’s what you do for a living, correct?”

“Yes.” I didn’t ask how he knew that.

“I put in a good word for you. Said you were the best.”

He’d really stuck out his neck for me. “Wow…”

“It’s a way into his home and a way to get his attention. It’s not the kind of job his assistant can handle. Art is very personal, so he’ll have to approve of everything you find for him. It’s the closest you’re going to get.”

I already got pretty close to his bed…but that didn’t work out. “Thank you so much, Crow. Really…it means a lot to me. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

He was quiet for a long time, letting the silence dangle between us. “I know how important family is. So do you.”

I was at the gallery a few days later when the phone rang on the desk. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and business was slow. Few people were looking for a professional art buyer in the middle of the day.

I answered. “The Rosa Gallery. This is Siena.” I had a list of clients I met through the gallery, and my job was to find the perfect pieces for them. I had a few high-profile clients who commissioned me to decorate their homes or offices, but most of the time, people were just looking for one single painting.

“Siena Russo?” the man asked bluntly.

“Yes, this is she. How can I help you?”

“My boss is looking for someone to decorate his home with specific pieces of art. He has very particular taste and a very large budget. I’ve done my research, and it seems like you’ve made quite a reputation for yourself.”

Thank you, Crow. “I’m flattered.”

“Are you interested in the project?”

A normal person would ask a million questions, but since I already knew this was for Cato, I didn’t. “Very much so. Just let me know when you would like to get started. I should probably meet your boss to garner what he likes.”

“I’ll see if he has the time. He’s very busy.”

Yes. Busy being a pig. “You know where to find me.”

I drove into western Tuscany and approached the large cobblestone wall that surrounded the property. It was a private piece of land, and I couldn’t see any neighbors on either side of the road. The foliage was dense and green despite the merciless heat, and like always, there was a scent of grapes in the air.

I pulled up to the black iron gate and watched the security detail examine me. One came to my window and asked for my identification before they opened the doors and allowed me through.

My heart fell into my stomach. This man was guarded at all times. I would need a hundred armed men if I had any chance of accomplishing anything, and even then, the odds weren’t in my favor.

I drove up the road and onto his property, seeing the acres of lush landscape enclosed within the walls. Cato’s security team seemed to stay along the perimeter because his actual home was peaceful and quiet. Three stories tall, it was a mansion big enough for twenty people.

Hard to imagine he lived there alone.

Even though he certainly didn’t sleep alone.

I parked in the roundabout, gathered my things, and prepared to come face-to-face with the man I blew off. The angry look in his eyes was still fresh in my mind. I insulted him and stormed off, something he probably wasn’t used to. Everyone bowed down to him like he was some kind of king.

He might not even hire me.

He might take one look at me and order me off his property.

I knocked on the door and was greeted by a man in slacks and a polo shirt. “You must be Siena.” A man in his late fifties with salt-and-pepper hair smiled and showed his nice grin. His skin was distinctly tanned, like he attended to the needs outside the house as well as inside. “Please come in.”

“Thank you.” I wore a black dress with a black cardigan, a string of pearls around my neck. Whenever I worked, I always wore those two shades. It complemented the artwork I showed and made me seem neutral in comparison. My heels were higher than usual, giving me an extra three inches of height. They clacked against the wood as I carried myself inside. “I’m excited to be here.”

“We’re excited to have you. It’s a beautiful home, but it needs to lighten up a bit.” He placed his hand between my shoulder blades then guided me into a private room. The entryway had two staircases on opposite sides, and the space in between was big enough to fit a cocktail party. Hardwood floors and beautiful moldings made it the most beautiful house I’d ever set eyes on.

The sitting room had two couches with a coffee table, along with other chairs and a large window that showed the rest of his property in the rear. It smelled clean and fresh, but it looked like a room that was never touched. It was probably one of the many rooms reserved for private conversation, but not quite a business meeting.

“Coffee or tea?” he asked. “Or are you prepared for something stronger?”

“I’ll have whatever Mr. Marino enjoys.”

“Well, Mr. Marino is a scotch fan.”

I already knew that. “What a coincidence. So am I.”

He gave a slight nod. “You two will get along just fine. I’m Giovanni, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Giovanni.”

He walked out and left the door open.

I organized my papers and readied my notes, my heart hammering in my chest. Even if I didn’t have ulterior motives, this would still be my dream job. This place was enormous, and judging by how elegantly it was already decorated, only the most beautiful pieces of art should hang on these walls. It would be an honor to work on something like this—and get paid for it.

But I wondered what his reaction would be once he saw me.

Giovanni returned a few minutes later. He set down a tray with a decanter of scotch, two glasses with a single cube of ice in each, and assorted cheese and grapes. “Mr. Marino is just finishing up with his mother. He’ll be in shortly.”

“Thank you.”

After Giovanni left, I sat still and felt the nerves get to me. There was no reason to let his intimidation affect me, not when I had a mission to fulfill. My father’s life was on the line, so even if he were a good person, it wouldn’t change the way I felt about the task.

I heard his voice a moment later. “I’ll see you later, Mother.” His heavy footsteps echoed in the entryway.

The sound of her heels accompanied his. “Thank you for making time for me, son. I know how busy you are.” She spoke like a queen, retaining so much elegance that I imagined her wearing a tiara.

A door shut a moment later.

Then I heard his footsteps get closer as he approached. Louder and louder they grew until his presence filled the air. Rigid with power and authority, he owned the room the second he stepped into it.

My back was to him, so I couldn’t see his face.

He couldn’t see mine.

He didn’t apologize for making me wait, and he didn’t introduce himself either, like announcing his name was simply redundant. He carried himself like a king, like every single one of his subjects should know exactly who he was and never turn their backs on him.

I rose to my feet and faced him, keeping my poise as if his undeniable power had no effect on me.

He didn’t pause when he recognized my face, but there was a flash of surprise that moved across the surface of his eyes. He stopped near the couch like he was about to shake my hand, but he never extended the greeting. His blue eyes were even brighter than before, probably because of the sunlight coming through the large window. He was in dark jeans and a gray t-shirt, the kind of clothes that fit his frame beautifully.

He continued to stare, his eyes unblinking and his gaze intense. It was the same stare we’d shared across the room in quiet moments, an entire conversation passing between our expressions. Maybe he was thinking about our kiss in the bar. Maybe he was thinking about the way my ankle felt under his fingertips. Or maybe he was thinking of throwing me out of his house right then and there.

It didn’t feel right to say hello or ask how he was doing. It didn’t feel right to say anything at all. So I didn’t.

He moved to the other couch and sat down, slowly lowering his large build across from me. Without taking his eyes off me, he poured two glasses of scotch and took a sip from one.

It was so quiet in the room I could hear every little sound. I could hear the ice cube tap against the glass, the sound of the decanter as he returned it to the tray. I could hear the scotch swirl around his mouth, right over his tongue.

He set the glass down and looked at me again, his hands coming together between his knees. “Siena. Beautiful name.”

That was the last thing I expected him to say. “Thanks.”

“Are you from Siena?”

“No. I was born here.”

He grabbed my glass and handed it to me.

I accepted his offer and took a drink.

He watched every second of my movements, his eyes focused on my mouth and throat.

I returned the glass to the table and didn’t start discussing the job. There was a good possibility he wouldn’t want me in his home much longer. “Do you want me to leave?”

His pretty eyes were the only soft feature he possessed. The rest of him was hard and cold, like a man thawed from ice. He was impossible to read, his expression always stern. Whether he was that way intentionally or not was a mystery. “Why would I want you to leave?”

“Because I called you a pig.” There was no way the memory of that night wasn’t as fresh in his mind as it was in mine.

He tilted his head slightly. “I am a pig.”

I couldn’t stop the slight look of surprise from entering my face.

The corner of his mouth tugged up into a smile, but it happened so quickly I wasn’t sure if it really happened at all. “And I like being a pig.”

My smile didn’t mirror his, but I didn’t despise him like I did before. At least he was honest about who he was—even if he sprung it on you without warning. “Yeah, I can tell.” I grabbed my folder and clicked the end of my pen. “I can discuss my qualifications for the job, or you can ask me whatever you want to know.”

“Alright.” He brought his hands together, his fingers massaging his knuckles. “Was this what you were after the entire time?”

I held his gaze as my heart leaped into my throat. Scrutinized, I felt like a specimen under the microscope. It was a question I couldn’t dodge, and I had to answer it carefully. He knew I’d been following him. He knew I didn’t want to sleep with him. What other explanation did I have to give? It seemed to be a strange coincidence that I was there now—asking for a dream job.

When I didn’t answer, he pressed me again. “Answer me.”

“Your team reached out to me.”

“Too big of a coincidence.”

I still didn’t give an answer.

He continued to massage his knuckles. “I’ve got all day.”

Cato Marino was far too suspicious of a man to sneak by. If I didn’t admit to this, he would just keep digging until he found my purpose. And my real purpose was much worse than my fake purpose. That was something he couldn’t uncover. “Yes. I wanted this job. I wanted to study you to find out what kind of artwork you might like. I wanted to get to know you to understand your soul. That way, when I pitched myself to you, I would have more to offer than anyone else.”

He held my gaze and listened to every syllable coming out of my mouth. His reaction wasn’t obvious because he kept his intimate thoughts too close to his mind. “That’s dedication.”

“I take my job seriously.” Along with my father’s life.

“Very seriously, if you’re willing to sleep with a man for it.”

It was an insult that I deserved because that was exactly what I was doing. I didn’t want anything to do with this man. If our fates weren’t so intertwined, I never would have bothered. He was way too complicated for me. But I didn’t want him to perceive me that way, like I was really that ambitious. “That wasn’t the only reason I wanted to sleep with you.”

He watched me for a long time, his eyes hooked to mine without flinching. He didn’t seem pleased or annoyed by that response. Like I hadn’t said anything at all, he changed the subject. “It’s a big project. Hope you can handle it.”

“I can handle anything.”

He rose to his feet and left his scotch behind. It seemed like the conversation was over because he headed to the door. “Then you’re hired.”