Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“You can call it whatever you want, Mr. Grassi.”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you are going to be blackmailing me, I think you can call me Matteo,” I said, shooting her a smirk. “And what do you propose your silence is worth?”
“Seven.”
“Seven what?” I clarified.
“Thousand. A week.”
“What? Indefinitely?” I asked.
I wasn’t sure if she’d been expecting me to flinch, to balk, to object to her number, but the fact of the matter was, that was spending money for me. What can I say? My business was booming. And the Family business had never struggled to bring in money either. Which I always got a cut of.
Seven grand a week wasn’t a big deal.
Especially if it bought her silence.
Without involving the Family in my fuck up.
“For as long as it suits me, yes,” she said, a brow slowly arching up.
It shouldn’t have been, but it was hot as fuck.
“And what guarantee do I have that you won’t fuck me over?”
“From where I’m standing, Matteo,” she said, giving me a hard look, “you’re not in the position to be making demands.”
Shit.
That was hot too.
“Fair enough,” I agreed. “Mondays work for you?” I asked, getting up and moving toward the built-in behind my desk, grabbing a hidden lever, and having a section of the shelves move outward to reveal a safe.
“Yes,” she said, and I didn’t miss the airlessness in her voice at that. Like maybe a part of her was worried this wasn’t going to work, that I wasn’t going to give her what she was demanding.
Seven grand wasn’t a whole lot to me in the grand scheme of things.
But seven grand a week to someone working a salaried job, that was a lot of money. It could be life-changing money.
Opening the safe, I reached in to grab a couple stacks of money. It wasn’t exact. I was probably overpaying, but I honestly owed the woman. I’d put her through hell.
“Will you be showing up every Monday to collect?” I asked, passing the money toward her on the desk.
“Well, I will be here anyway,” she said, looking at me with drawn-together brows.
“You plan to keep working here?” I asked, shaking my head.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I like my job,” she said, shrugging. “I worked really hard to get here. I want to keep growing and learning. And then maybe open my own business one day.”
“You want to be my business rival,” I mused. “Using my own money to build your business.”
“Pretty much,” she agreed, and some of the coolness and distance slipped away, showing me a hint of the woman beneath as her lips twitched. “Besides, I need to prove my income.”
“Smart,” I said, nodding.
“I know,” she agreed, reaching out with the tips of her fingers to touch the cash. “You never said anything,” she added, making me look up again.
“About what?”
At that, she waved behind me toward the built-ins.
“You designed all this?” I asked, surprised. “Without asking?”
“I asked Cara,” Josie said, shrugging. “We couldn’t keep meeting prospective clients in a space that wasn’t decorated.”
“It’s nice. I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on it. I’m shit at that kind of thing.”
“Interesting business to go into then,” she said, shaking her head. “The design and the menu are the core parts of the party planning process.”
“Do you like party planning?”
“I like making things pretty. And I like making people happy,” she said, shrugging.
There was something in her voice and in her eyes right then, though. It was something that said the comment wasn’t as superficial as it sounded. There was meaning there, something that meant more to her.
I wanted to know.
But I wasn’t exactly in a position to ask, now, was I?
“I’ve heard good things about your work,” I said.
“Really?” she asked, quickly dimming the light that leapt into her eyes, but it was there for a second before she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to like my praise.
“Yes, really,” I said, nodding. “You’re handling that pain in the ass client right now, right?”
To that, she let out a little laugh.
“She’s just… she is very particular.”
“She’s a pain in the ass. You can say it,” I encouraged, liking the way a small dimple formed below her lip on the right side. “Little secret in the industry, no one actually believes the client or customer is always right. Sometimes they’re assholes.”
“I think that people are allowed to be particular about their special occ—“ she started, cutting off at the sound of a knock at the door.
“Babe,” I said, nodding toward the stack of cash on the desk, making her reach for it, shoving the stacks into her pockets with frantic fingers. “Yeah?” I called as soon as the money was gone.
The door pushed open.
And there was my brother.
“Am I interrupting?” Luca asked, giving Josie a small nod of acknowledgment.
“No. Nope. Not at all,” Josie said, giving him a warmer smile than she was willing to offer me, given the situation between us. “Are you looking to plan a party?” she asked, her voice going a little sweeter, a bit more chipper.