Page 20 of His to Win

I smirk. “What about Carlotta?”

He shakes his head and smiles. “Our baby sister is scary smart.”

I laugh. “Yeah, she is, huh?”

“Any man who crosses her is going to wind up either castrated or at the bottom of the river wearing cement shoes.”

“Probably both,” I say, and we laugh. Yeah, Carlotta is a feisty one when she gets going. Whatever man she ends up with will have to accept the fact that she’ll never bow down or give in easily. My sister is a spitfire.

Kind of like Gabriella, I realize with an inward groan.

Angelo and I talk a little longer then he tells me he has to go get ready for a date.

“Jesus, Ang, you’re a serial dater. Is this another new girl?”

“They’re always new, bro. You know how I roll.”

“Where do you meet all these women?” It’s like a revolving door when it comes to Angelo and women. They’re constantly coming and going, alway passing through, no one staying longer than a brief spin.

“Just out and about,” he says vaguely. Then he shrugs his shoulders and flashes me a dazzling smile. “I can’t help it if I’m a hot commodity.”

“Save it for your harem.”

“I don’t have a harem. Just a stream of interested, very willing ladies and who am I to say no to their company?”

“One of these days, Ang, a woman is going to sweep into your world and knock you flat on your ass,” I predict.

“Doubtful. I stay away from headstrong, stubborn females like Gabriella and Carlotta. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

I narrow my eyes.

“Only my opinion, of course. Some guys like to be put through the wringer and challenged at every turn. No thanks. Not me. I prefer docile and easygoing any day of the week.”

“That’s a cop out. And you’d be bored within a few days. That’s exactly why none of the women you date last long. You need a challenge.”

Angelo walks toward the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder. “Why don’t you worry about your own challenge, huh? And I’ll stick to sweet and short-lived.”

I shake my head and toss him a salute goodbye. Angelo is a free spirit who doesn’t like to be tied down, so I understand where he’s coming from. But, at the same time, I think he’d do better with an intelligent woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.

Oh, holy hell. I just heard myself and I frown. Since when do I know what kind of women other men need? The better question is when did I start caring? Raking a hand through my hair, I wander over to the large floor-to-ceiling window and gaze out. I have a great view of the water and pier. I like Hudson Yards because there’s a bit more room to breathe and not as unbearable as it is a few blocks over. Manhattan is congested and, though I like being in the city, I also need to be able to breathe.

When my phone rings, I walk over and swipe it up off the kitchen island where I left it. Images of Bri, seductively sprawled on that granite countertop fill my head, taunting me, and I grit my jaw as I answer, “Enzo Rossi.”

“Enzo, it’s Doug Holloway.”

I straighten up. “Doug, how are you?”

“I’m well, thanks. I was calling to see if you’re available to come down to my office at nine tomorrow morning?”

“Do you have good news for me?” I can’t help but ask.

He chuckles. “I think so.”

I’ve won Holloways Corp. and beaten Gabriella. “Thanks, Doug. See you in the morning.”

After we disconnect, I expect to feel a rush of satisfaction. Instead, I hang my head and consider backing out. Gabriella is going to be so disappointed to lose out on this and my normally hard business mentality softens. Just a bit.

The truth is, for the first time in my life, I feel bad about beating my opponent. But then I think about how she told her cousins about us and my resolve turns back to steel.

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