Chapter 25
SEBASTIAN
She pushed out of my embrace and shimmied to the end of the bed, taking the top bedcover with her. Wrapping it around her body, she swept at the wet tears on her cheeks and faced me.
With a raised chin, she shook her head. “No, I won’t, because I’m not staying in Italy. The moment we land, I’m getting on the first plane to New York.”
I rose and pulled a pair of jeans from the wardrobe.
As I buttoned them, I turned to her. “And if I say no?”
Still clutching the blanket around her, she slipped into her jeans. Her narrowed gaze darted from the torn remnants of her T-shirt on the floor to me.
With a frustrated sigh, she marched past me to open the wardrobe. “I’ll try to hide my shock.”
For the second time today, she grabbed one of my dress shirts, this time only buttoning it halfway and tying the ends around her waist. I enjoyed the sight of her in my clothes.
Before she could object, I lifted her arm and rolled the cuff past her wrist. “Why won’t you even consider it?”
She backed away and rolled the second cuff over her forearm without my help. “The fact that you would even ask that is my reason.”
Snatching her blazer off the floor, she shoved her arms into the sleeves.
As she warmed to her topic, she ticked off points on her fingers. “You practically forced me onto this plane. When I tried to leave, you blocked my path. And then you…well, you…then we…anyway, you basically kidnapped me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and shrugged. “Besides that.”
She shoved her platform loafers on with sharp movements. “You’re impossible. You know that?”
“I like to think of myself as determined.”
Determined to get what I wanted. Her.
She was a means to an end—a pawn in a delicate game of revenge between me and her father.
And yet, I was beginning to wonder if she could be something more.
She faced me, exasperation etched into her features. “I’ve already told you. I can’t take the job.”
I stepped forward and cupped her cheek. “Can’t or won’t?”
With a turn of her head, she ended my touch. “Both.”
“Tell me why.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“And yet, I’m asking for one.”
She huffed. “More like demanding one.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Call it what you want. We have two more hours until the plane lands. Want to bet I get my answers one way or another?”
Her cheeks flushed, but she stood firm. “Fine. For one thing, I promised my mother I’d never go to Italy.”
“Why would you promise such a thing? Italy is beautiful. You have Italian blood. You should want to see the land of your ancestors.”
Of course I already knew why.
Her piece-of-shit father.
But I wanted to hear her say it. For reasons I didn’t care to examine, I wanted her to confide in me.
She lowered her lashes. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Is this in reference to the father you accuse me of colluding with?" I pressed. "What did you say his name was?”
It was a dangerous question.
The last thing I needed was her connecting me to Judge Delluci.
“I didn’t tell you his name. And I’m not going to. It was silly of me to think you were involved with him. It’s just…my mother put into my head never to trust— You know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. My answer won’t change.”
I nodded. “So, like a little lost child, you’re letting your mother and father dictate your life?”
“That’s not what this is about.”
I pulled on a black shirt and buttoned it. “You’ve been offered the perfect job to launch your career with the best company in the world. You're rejecting it simply because it doesn't meet your mother's approval?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
"Behave as if this is all about my mommy issues and overlook what's going on between us.”
I adjusted my collar. “According to you, there is no us.”
She stormed out of the bedroom, firing right back, “That’s right. There is no us. We’ve had sex twice, and both times were a mistake.”
We returned to the lounge area. The staff were restocking liquor bottles on the bar shelves that had to be stowed during takeoff, while Oliver set up an espresso and Italian cookie display.
I waved my hand. “Enough. I require privacy.”
The staff cleared out.
I sat on the sofa and stretched my arms along the back. “So, if it’s not your mother, and there is no us, then tell me why.”
She paced in front of me. Her sapphire eyes sparkled as the corner of her full lips lifted.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the tops of my thighs while I anticipated what she was going to say next.
“You know what? You’re right. There is no reason why I shouldn’t take the job. As you say, it’s a dream opportunity for me.”
I intertwined my fingers. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing things my way.”
She raised her palms. “And like you said, I’m a very talented fashion stylist. House of Diamanti would benefit from my legitimate, work-related skills.”
Rising, I crossed to the espresso machine, needing the distance to conceal my reaction to what I knew she would say next.
My steps were unhurried, deliberate.
I flipped the machine on, letting it warm as I reached for the grinder. “Your skills are considerable,” I prompted. My scoop of fresh espresso beans rattled into the hopper and sharp, mechanical grinding began to fill the air, a counterpoint to her measured footsteps.
She paced behind me, deliberately ignoring my comment. “So if all that is true, then you shouldn’t hesitate to agree to a few conditions. As part of our negotiation.”
I pulled the porta filter from its cradle and filled it with the finely ground coffee. I worked my fingers smoothly to level the grounds and reached for the tamper. Firmly pressing down, I achieved a perfectly compacted coffee, ensuring just the right pressure.
“You want one?” I asked, not bothering to turn as I locked the porta filter into the machine.
She shook her head, her reflection faintly visible in the polished chrome.
“Then go on,” I said, starting the brew. The hiss and gurgle of the machine filled the air. “I’m listening.”
She stopped pacing, folding her arms across her chest. “I’ll agree to a one-month trial period, providing we keep our relationship strictly professional.”
The espresso dripped, dark and rich, forming a perfect crema on top.
She didn’t realize Italians had a very permissive opinion about the rules of a professional relationship.
I took my time pouring the shot into a preheated porcelain cup.
She didn’t see it, but I smiled as I reached for the spoon and stirred the liquid gold with precise movements.
I turned, cup in hand. “Agreed.”
She stared at me as if I’d just upended her entire strategy.
I raised an eyebrow, leaning against the table and bringing the cup to my lips.
“If I didn’t know any better, dolcezza, I’d almost say you were disappointed at my agreement.”
Sabrina squared her shoulders, tugging on the sleeves of her blazer. “Don’t be silly. I’m thrilled. I’m getting what I want.”
The high color on her cheeks told me otherwise.
I placed the cup back on the table and selected an amaretti cookie from the platter Oliver had left. My smirk widened as I bit into it, the sweetness balancing the espresso’s edge.
“So am I.”