Scorned Heir: A Fake Dating Romance (Scorned Fate)

“Thank you,” the father of three boys told us before ushering his kids past our table. Sera reminded them of more take-home food at the end of the line.

When she left me holding a three-thousand dollar bill, I was caught off guard. I wasn’t sure what the food was for, and it wouldn’t go down well if it was for a mobster’s luncheon.

How could this tiny slip of a woman annoy me as well as impress me? I couldn’t think of the last time anyone managed that feat.

I abandoned my breakfast after signing the bill and left Nico at the restaurant. Luckily, I used my motorcycle this morning and that made following Sera and her bodyguards easier.

Either I was too good at tailing, or they sucked at their jobs because they never made me. That shit bothered me and I had no idea why. From my conversations with Daniel, Sera rarely needed bodyguards, only when her uncle was making a play.

But apparently, Sera Moretti wasn’t done surprising me. When I realized where she was going, awed admiration replaced any lingering traces of annoyance.

I straddled my bike in front of St. Catherine’s church, a line waited to get in. A sign indicating the soup-kitchen schedule for the day was in clear view from where I was observing.

The only Moretti I kept tabs on was Luca and whoever was in his inner circle. I wished I had paid attention when Aunt Carlotta mentioned Sera and her accomplishments. I thought Daniel was out of his mind when he suggested I fake-date her to light a fire under Gustavo’s ass. Taking her home yesterday, I realized I hadn’t enjoyed a conversation with a woman in a long time. Beautiful women were everywhere in New York, and Sera Moretti’s external attributes weren’t enough to lure me to pursue her exclusively. I’d cop to staring a bit too long into her eyes or at her full mouth. But this…there were layers underneath her physical perfection.

Her personality? I was digging it.

Our verbal sparring? I didn’t want it to end.

Every second I spent in her presence made her eyes more mesmerizing. Every word that passed her lips made me wonder how they might taste against my own. A smile curved my mouth. We hadn’t exchanged many words during the current shift, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t studying her. Sometimes, I’d catch her sneaking glances at me too. She was aware of me. In what aspect I wasn’t sure, but if her way of thinking was the same as mine, it was to decide whether we were enemies or allies.

Because if Conte wouldn’t sell the controlling shares to the De Luccis, marriage between Sera Moretti and Conte’s nephew would make the Galluzo mafia too powerful. We couldn’t allow that to happen.

While Sera greeted the next family who approached our table, a strange feeling rattled in my chest. A feeling that I didn’t want us to be adversaries.

I wanted Sera Moretti on my side. I’d done my research on Santino Conte and he was an arrogant, reckless, and immoral son of a bitch and a womanizer. He was totally wrong for Sera. Daniel was a better option, but somehow my mind rebelled against that idea too.

“Stop staring at me.” Sera scowled in my direction when an adolescent girl and a young boy arrived at our table.

“I find your face fascinating.” I put the sandwiches on the trays in front of me.

“She looks like an angel,” the child agreed even as his eyes ate up the sub in front of him.

“And she’s our guardian angel,” the teenage girl said.

“How old are you?” Sera asked the boy.

“Eight,” he said proudly. “It was my birthday last week.”

“You’re tall for eight,” Sera replied.

“That’s because you’re tiny,” the boy said.

I swallowed a huff of laughter because the boy’s teenage companion looked mortified. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t watch his words sometimes. Come on, Johnny, there’s a line behind us.”

Sera didn’t seem offended because she was laughing as well. Damn, she did look like an angel worthy of the name Seraphina. “You were definitely lying about your height yesterday. Even the boy was honest.”

“Shut up,” Sera said under her breath as our next patrons stepped up. Amusement curved her lips, so I know my teasing fell on the right side of her mood.

An hour later, we packed up. When Rocco and Tony returned, Sera instructed them to help the nuns clean up. She grabbed my arm and dragged me to a corner.

From her body language I had an idea what she was going to say, but it still didn’t lessen my anticipation of hearing it. I must be a masochist for this woman’s rejection.

She let go of my arm and her hands flew to her hips. “Whatever you’re doing, stop.”

“Why?”

“Why? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to save you from making a mistake.”

“And making a bigger, crazier one by agreeing to your plan? I don’t need Luca breathing down my neck.”

My jaw clenched. “Is he forcing you to marry Santino Conte?”

She looked away. “No one is forcing me to do anything.”

“Look me in the eye and say that again.”

She made an exaggerated huff and glared at me. “No one is forcing me.”

“You really want to marry that egotistical ass?”

“I suggest holding a mirror to yourself.”

I glanced around. More than a few interested eyes turned our way, and I could probably spend an hour or two making my case and talk about this round and round and not get tired of every excuse she came up with, but this was not the place.

I stared at her. “Have dinner with me.”

“What? You want to have dinner with me after I just insulted you?”

“You think I’m an egotistical ass, I want to prove you wrong.”

“A man of action?” This time her brow arched.

“You can say that.”

I witnessed the few seconds she considered it, but a determined set to her jaw told me I hadn’t cracked Sera Moretti’s resolve to resist me yet.

“This isn’t going anywhere. Don’t waste your time or mine.”

She started to walk away, but I caught her elbow and played my final card. She glared at me and was about to cut me off, but I beat her to it. “Dan isn’t worth it?”

Her head dropped, averting her gaze but not the sadness of her expression.

“Daniel was never an endgame,” she whispered before lifting her eyes and I flinched at the raw pain reflected there. The longing in them constricted my chest. “I have a duty to the family. Please don’t make me yearn for something that will never happen.”

She gently pried my fingers away. “Do not contact me again.”

“Mrs. Mancini is here to see you,” Jonas, my admin, informed Nico and me when we exited the boardroom. De Lucci Transnational was a privately owned company. We had investors, but we did not answer to stockholders. We had absolute control. That control enabled the company to survive the real estate collapse over a decade ago. Dad and Uncle Paulie were smart enough not to buy into the bubble and rescued several companies afterward. More than a few, we had to dismantle and convert their assets to a more profitable investment. We’d been accused of corporate raiding and mobbing up businesses but they could never find proof, so it remained a rumor.

Mrs. Mancini was a longtime friend of Dad. Her winery in the Hudson Valley was bleeding money and was the red ink on our balance sheets. She also thought we existed to bankroll her questionable business practices and didn’t see the need to make an appointment, thinking we worked on her time.

Jonas had turned her away the past few times, but apparently it hadn’t sunk in.

I was sick of it. Dad’s friend or not, we were running a corporation, and I was in charge now.

Nico looked at me with a pained expression.

“Need me with you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Keep your meeting with Wu. That’s more important. I can handle Mrs. Mancini.”

My brother nodded and headed the opposite direction toward the elevators.

Jonas strode alongside me. “Here’s a brief summary of their last quarter financials. I’ve sent a link to their files on the server to your email.”

I wouldn’t know what to do without Jonas. De Lucci Transnational ran itself most days because he was the efficiency behind those square-framed glasses, boyish looks, business-casual chinos, and checkered shirt that completed his buttoned-down appearance.

We strode into the reception area. Mrs. Mancini stood and I immediately noticed the drooped shoulders and short hair. Her face was made up, but she looked different. There were more lines, the dark circles under her eyes hadn’t been there before, and her cheeks seemed more sunken.

“Matteo.”

Jonas opened the door to my office and I motioned her through the entryway.

“Mrs. Mancini, this was an unexpected meeting. Can I get you anything?”

Her scarlet lips thinned. “The café au lait from the coffee shop on the first floor would be nice.”

I looked past her at Jonas who rolled his eyes.

“On it,” my admin said and closed the door behind him when he left.

“Have a seat.” I walked over to the espresso machine. I needed a jolt of caffeine for this. The board meeting put me to sleep.

“I received the notice a month ago,” she started. “I had my accounting department take a look where we could cut expenses.”

The notice was the threat to close down the winery. It had been in the Mancini family for over fifty years and was on acres of prime real estate, not to mention, the expansive Tuscan villa and the connecting structures that with a little restoration would make a great resort. Foodie tourists flocked to the Hudson Valley. My father had broached this to the Mancinis a long time ago, but they insisted their specialty was wine making.

“I’m going to be blunt,” I cut her off. “For a year you hid your husband’s Alzheimer’s from us. He was the winemaker and the brains behind the operation. The falling profits were linked to the decline in his health. We trusted you and didn’t subject your business through our regular investigative channels.” I woke up my laptop and clicked the email Jonas had sent me, opening the worksheets on their profit and loss statement for the last quarter. I expanded the details of their expense accounts.

“We’re making adjustments.”

“That’s what you’ve been telling my dad for the past three years, and since I’ve taken over…it’s been a year.”

Unlike the haughtiness in the past, there was begging in her eyes now. “Give us another chance.”

“You have two sons. Why are they not helping you?”

“My sons don’t like the winery business. I’ll hire a consultant.”

“With what money?” I leaned forward. “You’re already in the red. And you’ve used up the second loan my father had given you. No bank is willing to touch you. You’re here for more money and I’m not giving it until I see a solid business plan on how the Mancini Winery is going to dig itself out of this mess.”

“You’re denying me a loan?”

“You’re asking for a three-hundred-thousand-dollar check your mouth can’t cash.”

“I want to talk to Cesar.” The haughtiness that I had seen in her returned in full force.

“You’re dealing with me.”

A rap on the door came before it opened with Jonas striding in with a to-go cup of Mrs. Mancini’s coffee.

He handed it to my guest and said, “Conte is outside.”

Did no one make appointments anymore?

“I’ll be with him in a minute.” I returned my attention to her. “We’re done here.”

Mrs. Mancini rose, her chest rising and puffing, indignation evident in every line of her body. “I’m going to talk to your father. You young people have lost the respect for your elders or maybe your mother didn’t teach you how it is with the old ways.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, Mrs. Mancini. Look at your operations. Sticking to the old ways can lead to bankruptcy faster than an egg timer these days.”

Her mouth tightened, nostrils flaring before lifting up her chin and spinning around to walk toward the door. Jonas, who’d been quietly observing, opened it for her.

“One more thing,” I said.

She paused and turned around.

“Mention my mother in that manner again, and I’ll have you banned from this building.”

Her face turned red, her mouth falling open.

“And you can be sure Dad won’t stand for any insult to her either. You’ll have no one to whine to and save your winery.”

She made a haughty sound and exited without another word.

“Need a moment?” Jonas asked.

“No. Let’s get this shitshow over with. Let Nico and Daniel know Conte is here.”

“Already did.”

Seconds later, Gustavo stormed into the office.

My admin lingered by the door, but I nodded for him to leave us.

The old man didn’t waste time. It hadn’t been six hours since my visit to the soup kitchen where I spent almost two hours with Sera Moretti feeding the homeless of New York. I had ignored the repeated emails from his assistant requesting my presence at the hotel he was staying at. As far as I was concerned, I held the winning cards. Let him come to me. He did not disappoint.

Daniel read the situation correctly. Even if my pursuit of Sera was suspect, they didn’t want her reputation tarnished with mine.

The hypocritical men of the Galluzo mafia wanted a modern wife with a virtuous reputation. I doubted Sera was a virgin, but she wasn’t a wild child either.

“Gustavo, to what do I owe this honor?”

“You know why I’m here.” The old man paced in front of me.

I saw his rage, but I also smelled his desperation. Leaning back in the chair, I linked my fingers over my torso. “Not really. Last we spoke you changed your mind about selling. I don’t like games.”

Gustavo was a fickle-minded man. Years ago, he approached Dad with an offer of shares of Conte Enterprise. Dad wasn’t interested then. When I took over, it became imperative that we had a controlling interest in the company, but Gustavo refused to sell. The timing coincided with the rumors of Sera’s possible marriage to Santino. He must have made a deal with Luca, or the Galluzo did and he didn’t need us any longer.

He stabbed a finger in my direction. “You’re the one playing games. This is an underhanded move, even for you.”

If he wouldn’t spell it out, then I would. “If you’re like everyone who says I shouldn’t be pursuing Sera Moretti, the door is right there.”

The man stopped pacing and glared at me. “Why bring her into this? It’s between you and me.”

“Surely, you’ve experienced the emotion of love at first sight.”

“A playboy like you doesn’t know the meaning of love.”

I ignored his reference to my less than stellar reputation in the tabloids. I never addressed previous girlfriends’ exaggerations of my heartlessness in ending relationships. I was clear of my non-commitment from the start. In that regard, Daniel and I shared the same philosophy. Business first, pleasure second. He had something to prove after the Triad murdered his father seven years ago; I had my own way to pave in order to prove I was more than a mongrel born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

Emotional entanglements did not appeal to me.

“Oh, but I do.”

He stalked toward my desk, planted his hands on the table, and leaned in. “She doesn’t want you. Moretti told me this.”

“I wouldn’t believe everything Luca tells you.”

“He’s never going to approve of you going after his niece.”

“You’re forgetting my aunt Carlotta is a Moretti and she chose to marry a De Lucci.”

His face blanched.

“Didn’t you offer marriage to her?”

“That’s old history.” He recovered his composure and waved his hand.

“Is that why you won’t sell to me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I offered the shares to your dad, didn’t I?”

“But not me?”

“I don’t want a shark having control of a company I helped build. I want to leave Conte Enterprise in good hands.”

“And you think Santino is the answer? Does he have any experience in how to run a legitimate business?”

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“You’re contradicting yourself,” I said. “How do you know he’d pick the right people once you relinquish control?”

His mouth clamped shut.

“I’m not letting you ruin Sera,” he repeated.

“Surely my reputation isn’t that terrible.” I smiled tauntingly. “Some would say, I’m a good catch.”

He continued to glare. Either he was contemplating a lucrative deal to offer me, or he was considering the letter opener on top of the table to slit my throat. I made a mental note to hide all sharp objects in my office when I had to deal with disgruntled business associates.

“What does Luca Moretti get in all this?” I asked.

“It doesn’t concern you.” The old man sneered. “Stay away from Sera. I’ll take Bowman’s offer back to the board. I couldn’t make that happen without some concessions to the other players, but I believe we could come up with a mutually beneficial agreement.”

I stilled. He was giving in? But I knew better. Conte had played this game a long time. He came prepared with all the likely scenarios.

For Gustavo’s protection as well as to keep the De Lucci name out of public records, Daniel and I used a shell company Bowman Inc as a front for deals like this. It looked good on paper and had a physical address. It even had employees.

I did my best to keep a triumphant smile off my face.

“I’m not wishing you a good day.” Conte spun around and walked to the door.

The fucker.

“The offer has changed,” I called in a steely voice. He was getting a taste of dealing with this De Lucci. “It seems I have more cards to play.”

When he turned to face me again, his eyes could have flayed me alive if they were laser beams. “Stay. Away. From. Sera.”

“You’ll have my new offer within the next hour.”

And he’d just lost five percent of my original offer.

I smiled grimly. Nico was right, the devil had come out to play.