Chapter 33
SEBASTIAN
Thoughts of the curve of her naked ass bent over my desk would torment me for the rest of the day.
Fuck, she amused the hell out of me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with a woman. My amusement at Sabrina’s bratty remark was cut off by the entrance of my father.
Without so much as a greeting, he tossed a folded newspaper onto the conference table and headed straight to the espresso. He bit into a biscotti then spat it out, tossing the biscuit back onto the tray.
“Merda! Why do you get biscotti from Dolce Vita Patisserie? They are shit. You know I prefer the ones from Pane e Amore.”
I took a seat behind my desk. “And you are more than welcome to get biscotti from there for your office, but you’re in my office now.”
He rounded on me, pointing a finger. “Don’t take that tone with me. Buono a nulla. This used to be my office.”
Suppressing a sigh, I met my father’s glare. “Exactly. Past tense.”
Even in his sixties, Fabrizio Sebastian Diamanti was still a man to be reckoned with.
In his Armani tweed coat, sweater, and elegantly tied scarf, he was the epitome of Italian class and sophistication.
Too bad that only went skin deep.
At his core, my father was a piece-of-shit human being.
A selfish man with no moral compass, who cared more about the public perception of our family than he did about the actual well-being of his family.
And I was my father’s son.
He brushed the crumbs off his hands. “Where are we with the little whore?”
I clenched my hand into a fist.
He meant Sabrina.
“Don’t call her that.”
He settled into the high-backed leather chair in front of the fireplace.
Leaning forward, he moved a pawn. “She’s the bastard daughter of an opportunistic slut. What should I call her?”
My men had uncovered ample evidence that Abriana Dolce Badalamenti, Sabrina's mother, was more a victim of the judge’s attentions than a willing participant. And given her family’s wealth, she certainly was no gold digger.
Gathering a stack of files, I loudly banged them into order against my desk. “I’m a busy man. Is there something I can help you with, Father?”
He opened a solid-gold cigarette case and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette.
Placing it between his lips, he searched his pockets for a lighter while he talked out of the corner of his mouth. “If you’re such a busy man, then why are you wasting your time playing the pussy with the little whore and not doing as you’re told?”
After picking up the silver table lighter I kept next to a humidor of Fuente Fuente Opus X cigars, I crossed to my father and flicked the lid to trigger the flame. “We have discussed this. There is no need to resort to violence to settle the matter.”
My father’s plan was to kidnap Sabrina and inform the judge we had his hidden bastard daughter, which was not too far off from my own plan.
Hell, I’d already basically kidnapped her just to get her to Rome.
The problem was my father’s plan was to then kill her as a favor to the judge to get him to back off.
He leaned forward and lit his cigarette. Resting back in his chair, he blew a smoke ring. “What’s one dead whore?”
Violence was always the simple solution for my father.
It was why the House of Diamanti was now in danger.
I snapped the lid over the flame with a clack before looming over my father’s sitting frame. “Call her a whore one more time and see what happens, old man.”
He raised his hands, backing down. “Basta, fai quello che vuoi! Play your little game with the wh—with the judge’s daughter. I will be ready to clean up your mess when it doesn’t work.”
I took the seat across from him with the custom chess set carved from chocolate and black diamonds between us.
Moving my knight, I said, “Father, I will not tolerate any interference from you.”
He advanced his bishop. The Diamanti black diamond signet ring, identical to my own, glinted on his finger. “Handle the woman and the situation, and I won’t need to.”
I countered with my bishop.
He moved his pawn.
I moved my queen while keeping my eyes on him. “Coming from the man who can’t handle his own woman.”
With his fist raised to his mouth, he covered a deep-throated smoker’s cough before angrily retorting, “Don’t you lecture me about women, boy.”
He picked up his rook and slammed it down.
I slid my knight into position, exposing a direct threat. “I’m not lecturing you about your women. I’m talking about my mother.”
The ash on his cigarette lengthened as he stared at me. “Your mother is none of your concern.”
He moved his pawn.
I moved my queen. “Checkmate.”
My father swept his arm across the board, sending the precious chess pieces scattering across the polished wood floor. “You cheated.”
I leaned back in my chair and folded my hands. “If I did, I learned from the best.”
Snatching the table lighter, he lit another cigarette then blew the smoke in my direction. “I’m calling an emergency meeting of the board to stop this bullshit about the fake diamonds.”
I crossed to my desk, needing distance from my father.
Already fully aware of his objections to my launching a line of lab-created diamonds, I lacked the interest and energy to argue the point again.
While it was a fallacy that diamonds were a scarce commodity—an illusion designed to create artificial demand and drive up prices—that didn’t mean we weren’t facing a supply crisis.
With the House of Diamanti’s industry-leading commitment to avoiding conflict diamonds and rising costs, it was foolish to ignore the growing market for reasonably priced lab-created diamonds.
Leaning against the desk, I crossed my arms. “I’m aware. It’s a waste of time. The board is on my side.”
“Are you certain of that? They are going to find out about several of our executives getting dragged from their beds for questioning by the judge two nights ago.”
Fuck. I’d hoped he wouldn’t find out about that.
He smirked as he blew a ring of smoke in my direction and pointed at me with his cigarette hand. “Didn’t think I knew about that, did you, boy?” He then thumped the center of his chest. “I know everything.”
“I’m sure I don’t need to inquire about how the board will find out?”
My father averted his gaze with a noncommittal shrug.
Fucking back-stabbing bastard.
Barely keeping a rein on my anger, I stretched my arm out and pointed toward the door. “Get the fuck out of my office. Now.”
He flew out of his chair, storming toward me. His face reddened, and spittle formed at the corners of his mouth as he raged. “This is still my company!”
Undeterred, I rose to my full height. At one hundred eighty-three centimeters, I stood slightly taller than him. “No. It was your company. I’m in charge now.”
He spun on his heel, pacing as he puffed on his cigarette. “And you are driving it into the ground. Fake diamonds. Criminal investigations. Ruining our family legacy by letting a whore from a low-life family of thieves and criminals carry the Diamanti name.”
Another reference to Sabrina and the Badalamenti name—a thinly veiled jab at my plans to marry her as leverage against the judge.
The last thread of my restraint snapped.
I launched across the room and grabbed him by the throat.
Lifting him off the ground, I marched forward several steps until his back slammed against the wall. “I warned you against speaking ill of my future bride.”
He clawed at my wrist. “You’ll defend a bastard slut against your own family—your own father!”
“Sabrina Dolce Badalamenti has more character, principles, intelligence, and humanity than this entire miserable family combined, and I won’t stand for you disparaging her.”
His brittle fingernails dug into my skin. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.”
I dragged him by the knot in his scarf to the windows. “Lacerated liver. Compression fracture to the spine. Broken ribs. Compound fractures to the arms and legs. Traumatic brain injury.”
His eyes narrowed as he choked out, “What are you on about?”
“Those are the injuries you’ll sustain when I throw your miserable carcass through this window.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
I yanked him closer. “Try me, old man.”
Then I released him.
He staggered back. “You’re a disgrace to the Diamanti name.”
My entire life had revolved around the Diamanti name—its legacy, its success.
How dare he question my loyalty now of all times.
Rolling my sleeves down, I pulled on the cuffs. “Get out before I make good on my threat.”
He snatched up his paper and pointed at me. “When this stupid plan of yours backfires, you’ll come crawling to me for help. Just you wait and see.”
Shrugging into my suit coat, I adjusted the collar and spared him a glance. “Good day, Father.”
He yanked open the door and called out one final threat. “And I wouldn’t bet on the board’s support if I were you. I have more friends there than you realize.”