Page 13 of His Obsession
“I’m protective where she’s concerned. You might have noticed.”
“Were you trying to be subtle?” I quip.
He meets my eyes then, direct enough to make the point land cleanly.
“She worked hard to build something for herself out here. She’s doing well. She’s steady. She doesn’t need more mess.”
He’s given me a million questions to sit with, none of which he’s likely to answer. What exactly happened to her in New York?
“I promised to double her fee,” I tell him. “That’s something, at least.”
“Triple it,” he demands with a smile. “She’s worth it.”
I nod, and a companionable silence settles between us. Well. That’s out of the way. If I wasn’t already berating myself for having improper thoughts about Val, he’s just poured ice water over my brain.
“All right,” he says, standing. “I’m going to get to work. Thanks for listening.”
“Of course,” I tell him. “Thanks for not giving me food poisoning.”
He rolls his eyes and flips me off on his way out. “You buy bad fish one time . . .” he grumbles.
I buzz my assistant. “Send Matteo in when he gets here.”
A few minutes later, he appears in the doorway with a shit-eating grin.
“Are we debriefing about last night?” he asks. “Because I think I’ve got a shot with Val.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” I shake my head. “Nico just left after giving me the talk about not screwing his sister. I’m sure that extends to you.”
“As if you had a chance with her,” he scoffs. “You barely spoke two words to her.”
“Focus, idiot,” I snap. “I need you to pull intel on this car.”
I slide the sedan photos across to him. He looks them over thoughtfully.
“It’s been circling our properties the last few days.”
“You think it’s Marchetti?” he asks.
“Could be.” I shrug. “Could be nothing. Your job to figure that out.”
“This better not just be busywork to keep me from Val,” he says, half-joking.
“Get out,” I groan.
5
VALENTINA
On Tuesday morning, I nearly pinch myself walking into the DeLuca building. It’s an impressive skyscraper downtown, and even stepping through the door makes me feel like I’ve won the client lottery. This is exactly the kind of account I’ve been dying to land. Even if Sebastian is notoriously hard to please.
That sounds dramatic, but I don’t think it’s unfair. He admitted as much at dinner. From what I’ve read about this gala, it’s wall-to-wall LA elite, and invitations are highly coveted. This would be the most exclusive and expensive event I’ve ever handled.
The security guard in the lobby swipes his pass to let me into the elevator, and I nearly hold my breath the whole ride up. When I reach the top floor, a kind-looking older woman is already standing there waiting for me.
“Ms.Moretti?” she asks with a polished smile.
“Yes.”
