Page 80 of Seduced by Her Billionaire Fake Fiancé

“No,” Marco responded. “Raf’s right. And it’s not incompetence so much as neglect.”

Dante leaned forward slightly. “We’re talking about the Acto merger.”

Marco shot him a grin that was laced with brotherly impatience. Portia looked away, one side of her mouth twitching involuntarily. “No shit.”

Dante’s brows drew together then he leaned back in his chair, a study in relaxed curiosity. Portia saw beneath it. He was annoyed. And she couldn’t blame him. Marco was barely there, a figment that existed, occasionally in the shadows, but more often than not, as an absence in the company. Yet here he was, turning up so close to this massive deal they’d been working on for as long as Portia had been at the company, being finalized, and Marco was acting as though he knew more than anyone else.

“Okay, go on,” Dante said, gesturing to the table. “You have our attention.”

“Why would a company that’s in such a sorry state be stalling?”

“Incompetence,” Salvatore repeated.

“Every single person? No. It’s strategy. They have another buyer.”

“Impossible,” Dante responded. “I’d know.”

“Would you? How?”

“You can’t keep something like this quiet.”

“Of course you can. Mergers happen off the page all the time. Hostile takeovers are par for the course. How many companies have we swallowed up before the left hand knew what the right hand was doing?”

“You think someone in Acto Corp is looking for an alternative?”

“I think they’ve been made another offer, one they don’t want to refuse.”

“Ours is an offer they can’t refuse.”

“We’re lowballing it because they’re in trouble,” Marco reminded him, and Portia’s heart raced because she’d never seen Marco so invested in the company before, though of course she knew his family did rely on his insights and understanding of global financial markets and trends. It was just different to see him actually involved like this.

“As would any serious buyer,” Dante pointed out.

“Not necessarily.” Marco sipped his coffee, drained the cup. Portia studied his fingers, the way they curled around the handle, and her stomach tightened, remembering his touch on her body, her nipples. She glanced back at her tablet, skin over-heated.

They waited, in silence. Marco leaned forward, elbows on the table.

Portia couldn’t help but turn to look at him again. He was mesmerizing, magnetic. They all stared. Waited.

“You’re thinking two dimensionally,” he said. “You think that everyone approaches business in the same way you do.”

“To make money? How stupid of me,” Dante drawled.

“What about enmity?”

Portia frowned, not understanding. But Dante became very still, his body unmoving, his eyes on Marco’s. “Go on.” There was no longer a hint of humour in his voice.

“While you’ve been looking at Acto, and how to incorporate them into Santoro, I’ve been watching the market. Specifically, the Valentinos.”

Dante’s eyes shuttered closed. Portia glanced from her boss to Marco, not understanding. There was a collective movement in the room, a murmur, some cursing.

“Who are the Valentinos?” She asked quietly, so she thought no one heard her.

But Marco spoke directly to her now, eyes lancing hers, almost as if he was looking through her, rather than at her. As though she was nothing to him. Her heart lurched, making it hard to focus on what he was saying.

“Pieces of shit,” he said matter of factly.

She couldn’t look away. He was a gravity well and she was being sucked in. “Why?”

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