Chapter One
I’m out with Vivian, but I’m bored. It’s not her fault. She’s fine. I mean, physically she’s always on top of her game, and she’s trying to be interesting, telling me about her latest travels, but I’m so goddamn bored.
I wish she wouldn’t have gone blonde. She was a brunette last time I saw her, and this light hair bullshit really isn’t working for me. I also forgot she was such a picky eater. I would’ve taken her for drinks instead of dinner if I’d have remembered, but it’s not like I have a file folder for each woman I’ve been involved with.
“It was really meaningful,” she says to summarize, placing a hand on my thigh. I fix my eyes on her, anchoring my drifting gaze. Gotta at least try not to be an asshole. I dragged her out tonight, not the other way around.
“Yeah, sounds like it,” I say, though I have no earthly idea what she just finished saying to me. Some animal retreat or some fucking shit? Save the rhinos? I don’t fucking know.
“Anyway, enough about me,” she says with a smile, her hand sliding inward, caressing me through my slacks.
At least my cock’s still working. She gets a rise. Thank fuck. This boredom feels so deeply rooted, I honestly wasn’t even interested in sex with her up to this point.
I kind of am now… but that blonde hair is not what I was looking for. I don’t want to look at her face—I wanted to take her from behind, so she could be anybody. I don’t want to fuck her, specifically. I just wanted to fuck a girl who looked enough like the one from the bakery, so I could purge the attraction.
Someone not related to a man I don’t really want to piss off by fucking his sister.
Dammit, now I’m thinking of the cupcake girl again. She had a great smile. Sweet, like her cupcakes. Great eyes—chocolate brown, a little sparkle in them when I was talking to her. She liked me, I could tell.
I mean, it’s not unusual for women to like me, but they usually know who I am. She didn’t have a clue. If she would’ve, she wouldn’t like me.
Morelli’s little sister.
Shit, now I’m thinking about her again.
Those plump lips.
Goddamn it.
I’m smiling, and I realize Vivian thinks it’s for her. I’m being a prick. I need to bail on this date.
I grab my phone and look up Francesca’s bakery. I’m sure it’s closed by now, but I look up the hours anyway.
Normally I wouldn’t wanna show my face there, but since I just met Adrian there today, if I show up on Morelli’s radar on the security tape, Adrian would already know why I was there. He wouldn’t sound any alarms. I’m not up to no good; I was there to meet him.
I mean, not twice in the same day. But I’m bored enough to take the risk.
I could use a little excitement in my life right about now. I could just take her out—if she doesn’t seem down for a hook-up, well, I’ve done worse things with an evening than spend it with an attractive woman I’m not going to fuck.
In fact, I’ve just spent this night with a beautiful woman I’m not going to fuck, because now Vivian’s hand is on my cock, and my cock has stopped responding.
Casually brushing her hand away, I hold up my phone with an apologetic shake. “You know what, I apologize, but it turns out I’ve got work to do.”
“Oh,” she says, watching me, a look of surprise on her lovely features. “Um… do you want me to meet you after?”
I shake my head, extracting my wallet. They haven’t actually brought the bill yet, but this is the last place in the world I want to be, so I’ll just leave extra and someone’ll get a nice tip out of it.
The bakery closed two hours ago, so there’s no chance she’s still there, but I’m still gonna drive by on my way home, just in case.
---
I drive by the bakery. It’s closed, like I expected, but there’s still a light on inside. Still a car parked out back.
I debate parking by her car like a fucking stalker, but then I remember what Adrian said about her calling in suspicious lurkers. Last thing I need is Adrian to show up here now. I could not explain this if I tried.
So I don’t.
I just drive my psychotic ass around the surrounding streets until the light flicks off a half hour later. Until I see her walking toward the car behind the bakery.
Then I pull in.
Francesca whips around, pulling something out of her purse. Hopefully not a gun, though that would be a funny fucking story. “Oh, yeah, I had a couple drinks at dinner with this chick I didn’t want, thought it’d be a good idea to stalk Morelli’s little sister, and well, she shot me.”
It’s just a cell phone, though. She doesn’t make a call, but she’s on alert.
Until she sees me.
Then the phone lowers to her side. She slips it into her purse, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear. While she does look pleased to see me, she also… doesn’t?
Probably left her a little pissy earlier, toying with her the way I did. Probably wouldn’t have done that if I would’ve realized she’d still be on my mind a few hours later.
“Bakery’s closed,” she tells me, crossing her arms over her chest a bit defensively.
“Yeah, I saw that a few minutes ago when I drove by.”
Her eyebrows rise, like she didn’t expect me to say that. “If you drove by a few minutes ago, what are you doing here now?”
Offering my most charming grimace, I say, “I thought that might be you inside, so I circled around and came back.”
Honesty isn’t my first impulse in this situation, but what the hell.
“Is that right?” she asks, evenly. “Why?”
Sighing, I walk over to her car and lean against it. “Here’s the thing, Francesca. I think you need to go for a drink with me.”
This amuses her. “Oh, I need to, do I?”
I nod confidently. “You do.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you’re attracted to me, I’m attracted to you, and you already told me you didn’t have plans tonight.”
Nodding, she taps her chin with her index finger, as if she’s pondering this. “That is true. Of course, you told me your name was Tony… and it turns out that’s not true.”
The charming smile falls right off my face.
Her eyebrows rise, unimpressed.
“Adrian?” I ask.
Nodding, she verifies, “Adrian.”
“Goddammit, Adrian,” I mutter, even though it’s not like he can hear me.
“Yeah, so, that’s awkward,” she says, walking over to stand right next to me, then hip-bumping me out of her way so she can open the door. “Anyway, you probably shouldn’t come buy my cupcakes anymore.”
“What if I still want your cupcakes?” I ask, even though I know she’s right.
“Well, Tony, I think you should find a bakery in your own neighborhood to shop at.”
I catch the door once she has it open, not letting her get in and close it like she seems prone to do. “My name really is Antonio. My first name. I go by Salvatore because it’s my dad’s name, too, but… it wasn’t technically a lie.”
Putting a hand on her hip, full of attitude, she gives me a look like she can’t believe I’m even trying that. “Oh, come on.”
“It is.”
“Well, Antonio in front of it or not, you’re still Salvatore Castellanos, right?”
“Women don’t usually say that like it’s a bad thing,” I tell her, since she certainly did.
“Then go out with one of those women,” she advises me, dropping into her seat and tugging the door.
I keep holding it, not letting her shut it. “I already tried that. I left her and ended up driving by your bakery, so I wouldn’t say it was a successful endeavor. Any better suggestions?”
Her jaw drops open, those big brown eyes going so wide, I think she might get out and slap the shit out of me. Then she frowns and laughs a little. “Wow. Yeah, actually. Maybe next time you’re trying to convince a girl to grab a drink with you, don’t lead with that.” She pulls the door again.
I hold it again. “I led with that because it was the truth,” I state. “Your brother’s a liar; I thought you’d probably respect the truth.”
Smiling again like she can’t believe me, she says, “My brother would also be honest if he thought it would net him the results he wanted—much like you just admitted to doing.”
Well, shit.
Honesty is hard.
“I didn’t go home with her. I didn’t even kiss her. I found myself thinking about you and your… cupcakes,” I say, letting my gaze drift to her lips.
“My cupcakes are off the menu,” she informs me.
“You seemed attracted to me earlier.”
“I was,” she states, not even lying about it. “And then I found out who you were. Men like you do nothing for me. Sorry. Now, kindly let go of my door before I call Adrian and tell him you’re harassing me.”
“That would be really mean,” I tell her.
“Morellis have a tendency to be mean,” she informs me.
“I don’t buy it. You were sweet earlier.”
“Do I seem sweet now?” she asks, sweetly.
I can’t help grinning. “Yes.”
Francesca rolls her eyes at me. “Let go of the door, Castellanos.”
“Meet me for a drink.”
“No, thanks.”
“Give me a good reason.”
That startles a little laugh out of her. “Just one? How could I ever choose from the literally endless list?”
“Top one,” I say, leaning against the door, turning up the warmth in my smile.
“Where could this possibly go?” she asks, simply. “What in the world could we possibly have with each other?”
“Orgasms,” I reply, easily.
Francesca laughs again, shaking her head. “I can have one of those without the headache you’ll give me.”
Groaning, I close my eyes and picture it. “I’m very doubtful. I won’t believe you until you show me.”
She’s grinning, but I haven’t changed her mind. “Goodbye, Tony or Salvatore or whatever your name is.”
“If you don’t meet me for a drink, I’m coming back tomorrow.”
I don’t know why. I didn’t even know for sure if I’d fuck her when I pulled in here a couple of minutes ago, but I didn’t expect her to give chase like this.
I am not bored.
“You can’t come back,” she tells me. “Mateo wouldn’t take kindly to you hanging around.”
“Then I guess you should agree to meet me, that way I won’t have to.”
Francesca tugs the door again.
I merely quirk an eyebrow. “Agree to meet me for a drink or call Adrian. Those are the only two options for us ever leaving this parking lot.”
“You’re relentless,” she states.
“I’m good at what I do,” I tell her, smirking.
“Okay, fine. You’ve convinced me.” Francesca nods, pulling the door closed.
Excitement courses through me, I can’t even explain it. It’s not often I have to chase after what I want, and the victory is sweet. “We could take my car,” I point out.
“You can. I’m going home.” Flashing me a grin, she says, “If you want to take me out, you can pick me up there.”
My smile stalls. “You just said you’d go.”
“I’m a Morelli,” she states, buckling her seat belt. “We lie to get what we want.”
“Well, I’m a Castellanos; we never give up,” I inform her.
“We’ll see,” she says, clearly unconvinced as she fires up the engine. “Don’t come to this bakery again, I mean it.”
“I’m not afraid of your brother,” I tell her.
“Then you’re an idiot.” She flashes me one more smile, then she throws her car in reverse and backs out. I wait for her to hit the brakes, to give up the game and meet me since we both know she wants to.
But she doesn’t. She pulls right out of the parking lot, leaving me there all by my damn self.