Page 17 of Paolo DeLuca
“Find out where she is today, then get back to me.”
Franco nodded, then made his way out the door. Paolo made his way to the bar, reaching for the top shelf. The best of the best was up there, and he occasionally took advantage of the stock he kept. Pouring himself a glass of his Eagle Rare bourbon, he took a sip of the smooth taste of the twenty-year-old drink.
“What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered, taking a sip of the amber liquid, reveling in the burn as it slid down his throat. “This is fucking stupid.”
He meandered his way down the hall to his office and slumped into his chair. Outside, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the crowd of people making their way down the streets and past the club, laughing and talking. Making sure people knew the DeLuca family in Miami was worth the carnage he rained down on the streets after he took over for his father. People had played him like he was weak after being under his father’s thumb for so long. They were used to the old ways and regime, but Paolo brought them into a new age. A new era warranted him spilling blood and showing others that even though he was his father’s son, he was not his father.
Paolo controlled the drugs flowing in and out of the city. Although he wasn’t the trafficker, he got his percentage of the enterprise. The alcohol flowing in and out of Miami clubs and restaurants came through him, although he outsourced it, like the drugs, to other organizations. Paolo had a strangle hold on this city, and for the Red Barons to challenge him, meant he would have to show them once again, who the fuck he was. Apparently, they’d forgotten. Paolo pulled his knife from the sheath at his hip and threw it down into his desk. If the fucking Barons wanted war, they picked the right motherfucker to wage it against.
Four hours later, Paolo was on his way to a small gallery not far from where Lyric lived. Franco called to inform him she frequented the gallery and occasionally submitted a few paintings there. Paolo recognized the name; he’d given a lot of money to this little gallery. That was another thing Paolo did differently from his father when he took over. He donated to various causes around Miami. Ingratiating many of the businesses and charities to him and the DeLuca name.
The place was having an exhibition tonight, and Paolo hoped Lyric would show up. He’d been in luck when the gallery owner recognized his name as a major contributor and didn’t hesitate to let him enter without a ticket. But if so, he was willing to make another sizable donation on the spot. The attendees' opulence was unmatched for the gallery to be such a small place. He might as well be at a charity exhibition at the Smithsonian Institute. The gowns were expensive, as well as the jewelry dripping from many attendants.
Paolo scanned the room, looking for his obsession. He saw her gazing at one of the paintings in a corner on the other side of the room. Her pleated emerald off-the-shoulder dress flared at her hip. Her thick curls were in an updo, with a few tendrils hanging from the back and sides. A thin gold necklace drooped delicately around her neck, and small gold hoops adorned her ears—a completely different look from last night's. But in truth, she could probably put on a paper sack, and he would still think her lovely. Lyric hadn’t even turned around. He hadn’t even seen her face, only what she looked like in that dress from behind, and his dick was hard.
Paolo took a flute from a waiter passing by and took a sip, making his way to Lyric.
“Beautiful,” he commented.
“Oh, Mr. DeLuca,” Lyric’s hand went to her chest. “You scared me.”
Paolo stared at her. Damn, she was beautiful.
“I can be a scary man,” he remarked, taking another sip of his champagne. “What brings you here?”
She blew out a breath. Did he make her nervous? More than likely. He had that effect on people.
“I love it here.” She smiled. “Painter. Remember?”
That was right, she painted. It was the reason she could tell the bills were fake and why she had been working in his club. Paying her way through school.
“I do remember.”
“And what are you doing here?” she asked him with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.
This woman was breaking through his defenses. He wanted her unlike any other woman he’d ever met.
“I came to see you.” There was no need to lie about it. If she didn’t know he wanted her after last night, he would make sure nothing would be left to wonder about when she left here tonight.
Lyric didn’t comment, but he saw the questions in her eyes. He lightly grazed her elbow, turning her toward him, moving closer, so they were only inches apart.
“I don’t usually fuck with my employees, but for the life of me, I can’t get you out of my head.” He brushed her lips lightly as he spoke. “What kind of spell have you put on me?”
