Chapter 3
VALENTINA
By the time I pull up outside Nico’s house, I’m already irritated.
Part of it is traffic. Part of it is the fact that I had a perfectly valid excuse not to come. One of my clients called in a panic over centerpieces she hates for an event only six weeks away. I was ready to spend the evening walking her through options, but Nico shut that down immediately.
“You can fix it tomorrow,” he’d said firmly. “Six weeks is a lifetime.”
I’d laughed at him. “Not in the event space, Nico. Six weeks is basically a day.”
“Well, five weeks and six days isn’t going to kill her, but I might kill you if you don’t show up tonight.”
I rolled my eyes, but I had one of my assistants meet with her in my place. Delegating doesn’t come easy to me, but it’s the only way to be in two places at once.
Most of all, I’m irritated because Nico knows exactly how to make me feel twelve years old no matter how old I actually am. One remark from him about family obligation, and suddenly I’m grinding my teeth in the car like I’m on my way to detention.
Nico’s house sits in the hills in a quiet, expensive neighborhood. The landscaping is perfect, the windows glow warm against the dark, and two black SUVs are parked out front that must belong to his boss, Sebastian.
I know who Sebastian DeLuca is, of course. Billionaire owner a massive conglomerate of nightclubs, restaurants, and hotels. Always ranked on Forbes’ 100, considered one of LA’s most eligible bachelors.
What Nico never talks about are the rumors of Sebastian’s Mafia ties.
In another life, I might have laughed them off and said people need to mind their business, but that was before Adrian.
Now I don’t discount anything, and the SUVs parked out front don’t give me any peace.
Neither do the guards standing by Nico’s gate.
I grab the bottle of wine I brought out of politeness, check my lipstick in the mirror one last time, and tell myself I’m being ridiculous. This is dinner with my brother, not a death sentence. He’s all I have now, so these dinners matter.
I walk up to the front door which he opens before I can knock twice.
“You’re late.”
I hold up the bottle. “You’re welcome.”
He takes the wine and leans down to kiss my cheek. “You’re still late.”
“By like five minutes. It’s LA, you’re lucky I’m not an hour late.”
He looks pleased to see me, which takes some of the heat out of my annoyance. Nico always was handsome in that easy, social way that makes people trust him instinctively. Dark hair like mine, the same green eyes, broad shoulders, and a smile so charming he could talk his way out of murder charges.
I step inside and slip off my heels by the entry rug before he can remind me that this is a shoeless house.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing.”
I blink at him. “Nothing?”
“Try not to sound so suspicious.”
“It is suspicious,” I marvel.
He laughs and starts toward the back of the house. “I had dinner catered, so tonight is really chill.”
“That feels like a trap,” I grumble.
I follow him into the kitchen that’s three times the size of the one we grew up with.
His floors are wide-plank, and the low, warm track lighting always makes his living space feel like an art gallery.
The massive marble island is full of already-plated food, and the glass doors open to a patio where the last of the evening light has bled out over the hills.
“I thought we’d have dinner on the patio tonight,” Nico says casually, grabbing a bowl of pasta from the island. “It’s such a nice night.”
I nod and go out to see two men sitting at the table already, each nursing their own glasses of red wine.
“Gentlemen, this is my sister Valentina,” Nico says behind me. “Val, you probably remember my best friend Sebastian. And next to him is his cousin, Matteo.”
“Valentina,” Matteo says, standing up and stepping forward to kiss my cheek. “You’re way too beautiful to be Nico’s sister.”
“I got all the looks,” I joke, instantly liking him. I turn to Sebastian. “Nice to see you again.”
Frankly, I don’t remember ever meeting Sebastian. I know he came to our parents’ funeral, but I’ve blocked out most of that day. It takes all my willpower not to gawk.
It’s not that I didn’t know, in theory, that Nico’s best friend was attractive. He’s not one of LA’s most eligible bachelors for nothing. It’s that nothing about the vague idea in my head prepared me for the actual reality of Sebastian DeLuca in person.
He’s bigger than I expected, built like a defensive lineman.
He doesn’t stand, but even sitting I can tell he’s several inches taller than Nico and Matteo.
Black hair and dark eyes that make his face look sharper, harsher than the pictures in the gossip magazines.
Undeniably, unbelievably hot. Also, apparently, the rudest man in the universe.
He doesn’t smile when I look at him. He just watches me. My skin prickles under his gaze.
“Valentina,” Sebastian finally says, his voice low and deep. “Nice to see you.”
I hold his gaze because I’m not weak and because something ugly and proud in me refuses to be the first one to look away. There’s a small scar near one eyebrow that only makes him look even more dangerous.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Matteo cuts in smoothly, breaking through the strange static between us. “I was starting to think Nico made you up.”
“Unfortunately for Nico, I am very real,” I quip, sitting down hesitantly next to Sebastian. Based on the half-empty wineglass next to Matteo, this is the only open seat.
Nico puts the bowl of pasta down, then grabs the already open wine bottle on the table and pours some into an empty glass for me.
“Drink,” he commands. “Maybe it’ll make you less difficult.”
“I’m not difficult,” I bristle.
“It almost took an act of war to get you to dinner.” He chuckles before going back to the kitchen to grab the rest of the food.
“Let me help you,” Matteo says, getting up and following him.
Sebastian is watching me intently enough that I feel it all the way down my spine. He looks at me like he’s taking inventory, trying to figure out all of my secrets. It’s unnerving. I take a drink of wine mostly so I have something to do with my mouth besides say something stupid.
When Nico and Matteo come back, we all eat and talk like old friends, even though I’m just meeting Matteo and Sebastian for the first time. That’s one thing about Nico. He never lets anyone feel awkward or left out in his presence.
Sebastian doesn’t talk much at first. Matteo is charming enough for both of them and commands a good portion of the conversation.
He’s funny, loud, and openly expressive.
Nico laughs more than I’ve seen him laugh in years, and it makes me happy.
There was a time when I didn’t think I’d ever see him smile again, let alone laugh.
Sometimes, Matteo or Sebastian will bring up something about work, but they always stay very vague and talk around situations.
I’ve always known there were parts of Nico’s professional life he keeps separate from me.
Hospitality, nightlife, restaurant investments, security, he’s always kept it wrapped in vague explanations.
For my part, I’ve never asked questions that I don’t want answers to.
Tonight, I catch little glimpses of his professional life in the gaps.
They mention a club name I recognize. A problem with a manager.
Some complaint about numbers from one location and staffing at another.
Matteo says something about a meeting downtown tomorrow and Nico mutters that he’d rather put a fork through his eye.
Sebastian speaks only when he has something to say, which means everyone listens when he does. He doesn’t waste words. I catch myself watching him whenever he talks, like he’s the most fascinating man in the world.
He isn’t charming. Not even a little. And yet there’s something disturbingly compelling about a man who says exactly what he means and not much else.
At one point Matteo asks how work is going, and before I can give my usual vague answer, Nico beats me to it.
“She’s trying to land bigger clients,” he says, like he’s my publicist now. “Luxury hotels, bigger corporate accounts, more high-end private stuff.”
I glare at him. “Thank you for that unauthorized introduction.”
“You’re welcome.” He smirks, tipping his wine to me.
“It’s going well.” I shrug. “I’m busy, which is good. A little exhausting, which is also good, supposedly.”
“It is good,” Nico says.
Matteo laughs into his wine. “He’s very proud of you, you know.”
“Please don’t encourage him,” I say with a wary sigh.
“I’m serious,” Matteo says. Then, with a glance toward Sebastian, “And for what it’s worth, Sebastian is always complaining about mediocre event people, so maybe this is useful timing.”
I look from Matteo to Sebastian. Sebastian meets my eyes across the table.
“Good help is hard to find,” he answers wryly.
I almost laugh. “You don’t mince words, do you?”
“No,” he answers firmly.
“Charming,” I mutter under my breath.
“I’m not trying to be.”
Matteo leans back in his chair, clearly entertained. “He’s impossible to please. I’ve told him this.”
“Then maybe your problem isn’t the event planners,” I challenge, taking another sip of my wine. “Maybe the problem is that you’re a nightmare client.”
Nico laughs so hard he nearly chokes on his wine. Matteo covers his mouth with his hand, shoulders shaking. Even I smile into my glass.
Sebastian does not laugh. He just looks at me with a strange, intent expression that makes my pulse trip over itself.
“Is it so wrong to expect perfection?”
I let out a laugh. “There’s no such thing as a perfect event. Too many variables and personalities to manage. If I don’t have at least three fires to put out on any given night, something is very wrong. My job is to make sure the guests never notice.”
“I notice everything,” he answers definitively.
“Like I said, that sounds like a you problem.”
He watches me with an intrigued, almost tense expression, and I feel a small triumph in it. It’s nice to have my spark back. I can speak my mind with a man without fear of repercussion.
“On that note,” Nico says, clearing his throat. “I’ll go grab the dessert.”
“I’ll get it,” I offer, suddenly needing a little space.
I stand before he can and nearly sprint into the kitchen. I take a deep breath and silently reprimand myself for lusting after my brother’s best friend. That is definitely a stupid move.
When I bring the dessert out, the three of them are whispering among themselves and stop the second they see me. Nicely done, guys. Not suspicious at all. I roll my eyes and set down the plate of cannoli.
We eat dessert quickly, and I realize I’ve actually survived family dinner without much incident. To reward myself, I make my excuses to leave.
“Come on, sis, you can at least stay for a round of Gin Rummy,” Nico complains.
“As much as I’d love to beat you, I really do have an early meeting tomorrow. I want to be fresh.”
“Fine,” he groans. “I’ll see you next week. At least, I’d better.”
I kiss him on the top of his head and head for the door. To my surprise, a chair scrapes behind me. I look over and see Sebastian standing.
“I’ll walk you out,” he offers.
My whole body ignites with nerves. I just nod because I’m speechless. We walk silently through the house until I reach the front door. His presence is so imposing, and he’s even taller than I guessed. Just as I’m about to thank him for the incredibly bizarre gesture, he stops me.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I’d like to hire you.”
That’s not at all what I expected him to say.
“Okay.” I nod. “What’s the event?”
“A charity gala. You seem like exactly the kind of sharpshooter I need to run it.”
“I don’t work on favors,” I tell him, raising an eyebrow. “And I don’t do friends-and-family discounts.”
He chuckles for the first time all night, and I immediately memorize the sound. “Name your price. I’ll double it.”
I nod, stunned speechless yet again.
“I’ll send you a proposal,” I say, reaching for the doorknob.
He holds the door open for me. “I’ll be waiting.”