Page 4 of The Prices We Pay
And just as she did when she entered my office, she takes all of the air with her when she spins on her heels and walks away.
Perfect.
3
Josephine
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
The elevator doors barely close in front of me before I thrust my fist in the air and squeal like I did when Tommy Keller kissed me on the cheek in eighth grade.
I got it. I actually fucking got it.
I’m not entirely sure what just happened. I think I may have blacked out, but who cares?
I got it!
Not to mention, Luca Vittori is just…wow. And the hot bodyguard? Double wow.
Don’t get me wrong, I looked up Luca Vittori in heavy detail before the interview today. I knew hewas attractive, but nothing could have prepared me for seeing him up close. His perfectly styled, wavy hair rivaled the shade of my black strands. The dark stubble that covered his sharp jawline was groomed to perfection. And his eyes, my god, his eyes. They were such a deep brown, they were almost black. I felt like if I stared at them long enough, I would become irrevocably lost in their depths. His lean, muscular frame filled out his designer, custom-tailored suit like a second skin. Had the contract of my life not been on the line, I would have spent the entire time I was in that office envisioning what he must look like under that suit.
And Dante. I’ve never seen a man like him. He stood at least two inches taller than Luca, who, if I had to guess, was around 6’5. He’s built like an absolute brick shithouse. I mean, his muscles have muscles. I’m not a small woman, and I just know he could pick me up and throw me across the room with little to no effort.
I’d probably let him, too.
Dante was wearing a simple black button-up with black slacks, and he exuded just as muchauthority as Luca. I only spared a couple of glances at the giant man, but his buzz-cut, dark beard, hazel eyes, and tan skin were truly something to behold.
He looked nothing like the stunning man he was responsible for keeping safe, but he was every bit as beautiful in his own way.
The elevator flies down thirty stories, and when it opens on the ground floor, I step into the lobby feeling like a million bucks.
Shit, at twelve percent, I’m going to have a million bucks before I know it.
My phone starts vibrating in my bag, likely Jasper calling to see how the interview went, even though I told him to call me tonight after the rodeo. I slide one handle off of my forearm and rifle through the bottomless pit. Unable to find it, I quickly look down to see if I can see the screen glowing in the black abyss when I walk straight into a wall of suit-covered muscle, knocking my bag right out of my hands.
Before the abrupt stop can knock me on my ass, a pair of tattooed hands reach out and grab my waist. And, like a meet-cute out of the latestromcom, I practically swallow my tongue when I look up to see the face of the man in front of me.
Is everyone in this building hot as hell?
“Easy there, Sweetheart.” His slight Italian accent sends a wave of goosebumps over my skin. One’s so prominent that I’m sure he can feel them through my blouse, where he still holds my waist.
The man standing in front of me is a walking contradiction. His tailored navy-blue Ralph Lauren suit and matching tie, black silk handkerchief, baby-blue button-up, and black Oxford shoes suggest high class and sophistication. However, his intricate tattoos that cover his neck and side of the head, visible through his high fade, indicate that he loves to be a bad boy and go against the grain. Although his messy, dark brown hair may appear effortless, I’m sure it takes him twenty minutes every morning to style it just right. The softness of his hazel eyes as he looks down at me would lead you to believe he’s a caring and gentle soul. However, one look at his mischievous grin would tell you there’s more to him than meets the eye.
“You okay?” he asks as his hands suddenly grip me tighter, as if he’s afraid I might fall over.
It’s then that I realize I’m staring at him with my mouth open. I blink a couple of times, trying to clear the fog of arousal that his sexiness seems to have caused. “Yes. Sorry about that. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. I was trying to dig for my phone in that damn bag.”
He lets go of my waist, and I internally cringe at the rush of cool air that follows. Bending down, he scoops my bag off the ground. “Bags this size can be a real hazard,” he jokes as he hands it back to me.
“You’re telling me. I wish I could say this was the first time something like this has happened, but then I’d be a liar.”
The goosebumps that covered my skin only moments ago are now replaced with a wave of heat as he unashamedly looks me up and down. When his devious eyes meet mine again, he answers, “Pity. Here I was hoping I was special.”
I let out a breathy laugh. “Well, you are by far the most handsome man to have saved me from falling on my ass.”
Now it’s him who returns the laugh. “I like you.”
“You just met me,” I reply, forcing myself not to fidget nervously.
