Page 3 of False Introductions

“How does oneaccidentallycarjack a granny?” I turned my torso to better watch her as she explained herself.

“Well…” Sophia waved a hand about in explanation as if it was no big deal. “So I had ordered an UBER. And when a similar looking vehicle arrived, I jumped-in, said I was in a hurry, and told her to step on it.”

“And she told you to get your ass out of the car?”

“No. She asked where we were going—which should have been my first clue. But I figured she was new and I chatted with her about the weather. When she got to my office, I went to tip her on the app, but realized my original ride had been canceled. And then it all came out…” Sophia signed her check and slid off her stool, dropping to the floor.

Casually, I leaned over to get a full picture of her towering shoes, which were hotter then hell. Her toned legs disappeared into her sexy, second skin pencil skirt, which was snuggly covering her small but firm ass.

Damn.

This was a fine lady, who was also feisty and funny as hell. I wasn’t ready for the evening to be over, especially since it had just started. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“I have a lot of prep work for a meeting tomorrow morning.” Sophia held out her dainty little hand again.

Here was my chance.Be bold, dude.“Can I see you again?”

She cocked her head to one side. It was the cutest thing this bite sized woman could have done. I kept her fingers in my hand, however. I wasn’t letting her leave until I had an answer—the answer I wanted.

“I’ll be in town for the next week at least. If the Titans win, I’ll come back down—and we can figure out a way to celebrate.” She gave me a wink. “Maybe another round of Sambuca for you would be just thing?”

With that, she slipped her fingers from my stunned body and disappeared.

Fuck. Me.

Her words played on repeat in my head, as I was suddenly consumed with the game for an entirely different reason than my love for the boys in blue. Unfortunately, it was close—a low scoring, poorly played game between two mediocre teams. The minutes ticked by. Finally the fourth quarter found me in agony, since there was no clear outcome in sight.

When my phone chirped, I glanced at it only to groan inwardly. It was a message from my father. Which meant only one thing: something to do with the company. I opened the message and read the two words.

Pain-in-my-ass: Call me.

There was no ignoring the summons. It didn’t matter that Sunday nights were my only scheduled me time. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Capitoline Foods is setting up a satellite office in Nashville,” my father said. There was no fond greeting or small talk from my old man.

I could feel my brows shoot up to my forehead—but whether it was from the interception the Titans just made or the news from my father, it was hard to tell. His news might be heavy, but I had clocked out for the day. He didn’t know that. Inwardly sighing, I moved away from the outdoor bar, through a little gate, so that I could stand on the side walk. I didn’t want to have a lecture about how I spent my free time—the little of it that I took.

“Why are they coming to this side of the country?” I asked once I was safely standing on the side walk. “Are any of Cirillo INC.’s other subsidiaries coming east?” Cirillo was a holding conglomerate that was our biggest competition, and to say there was bad blood between us was an understatement. “Or is Capitoline Foods the only one?”

“Bobbi is coming on the first flight in the morning.” My father didn’t answer my questions—instead he was giving me marching orders. “She will handle intelligence and stop their advances. You focus on landing WRX Distribution. I want a signed contract by the end of the week.”

“Yes, Sir,” my words were clipped as I pinched my eyes closed and rubbed them with my thumb and forefinger.

“After your screw up with the wholesaler, you begged for this chance to land the distribution acquisition.Don’tmake me regret it.”

I didn’t need to hear any of that. Thankfully I was spared making a response, because my father hung up. He might be in Atlanta, but he kept close watch over the companies I was in charge of in Nashville.Fucking Bobbi is coming out. Yet another pain in my ass, only this one would be right in my day to day business. I clenched the phone a little too tightly.

If the Greeks are coming to Nashville, it has to be a more tactical move than merely setting up shop.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to regain my composure. It wasn’t the news that our competition was in town that made me feel gutted and crushed. I didn’t know the family personally, but Cirillo INC. was owned by Stefanos Dimakos—a ruthless bastard who had given my father his fair share of headaches.

I should buy the fucker a beer when he gets here.

Yeah, the Dimakos family had been through two generations of feuds with the Livingstons. There had even been physical blows once upon a time between our grandparents. I wasn’t an expert on the history of the bad blood, choosing to disappear whenever my grandad waxed on about the evils of the past. A girl stolen from an arranged marriage, a business failing, some real estate stolen—it was hard to tell where one feud ended and another began. The Hatfields and McCoys had nothing on us. Little had happened in the last six years since I had left Yale with a master’s in business.

My angst was more personal. While one moment he was ordering me to take care of an acquisition, my father was undermining me at the same time by sending his second in command to town. I might have been on thin ice since joining the family business, but after my screw up last month, things had reached toxic levels. I resisted the urge to throw my phone at the next car that passed. It wasn’t the driver’s fault I was in a black mood.

“Hey, the Titans lost.” The heavenly voice was quiet, as if scared to disturb me. A gentle tap on my elbow accompanied the words.

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