“Why are you hiding from her?” It’s the question he asks me every single time, and I give him the same answer.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” I bark out at my little brother, thrusting my hands through my neat, slightly longer-than-I’d-prefer hair, but I have a scar that is covered by the length right now. My heart’s racing out of control so painfully that I have to sit down before I give myself a heart attack. At thirty-one, I shouldn’t have chest pains, but the damn accident left me with heart problems, and Isabelle owns my heart.
From the first moment she stepped out of the kitchen, I saw forever with her. She mesmerized me to the point of madness. I nearly turned around and flipped her over my shoulder, taking her with me, but reality and common sense set in. I thought that I had time to woo her, so I left that night with a promise to return, but that wasn’t to be.
My brother takes a seat next to me in my office chairs. “No. You’re the one who’s lost it. You’ve been in love with her for almost two fucking years. Had I known, I would have brought her up here years ago.” He shakes his head and takes a drink of his coffee like I’m fucking stupid, but he doesn’t have to worry. He’s still a handsome bastard, while I look like shit.
He’s right. The first moment I saw Isabelle, I’d lost my heart. The accident nearly killed me, but thinking of her kept me alive. I’d hoped that my scarring wouldn’t be too hideous, but I was wrong. She’d never want me the way I looked. My brother is right.
The scars have faded, but the ones on my soul haven’t healed. I tracked down and sought my revenge on everyone involved before slinking to my home to never see the outside world again. The crash had been a plot to dispose of Mr. Morimoto by one of his children, and he did not care who he killed with his father. He’s felt the wrath of the three families that have lost someone, and my uncle on my father’s side felt the need to exact his own retribution because my sweet cousin could have been on board. Now, I hide away like a freakish beast, sore paw and all. I’m grateful my assistant is my cousin and tolerates my shit.
“Why are you shouting down the place?” Mia says, strolling into my office without knocking. Luckily, I’d left her behind for the trip. Barely clinging to life, I was the only one who was able to crawl away from the crash before the helicopter exploded.
“He’s upset because he refuses to make a move on my chef,” Fabio says, nodding at Mia.
“You’re a bad boy, Fabio, teasing Franco like that. I love it. I can’t wait to see this. Do you think he’ll pounce over the table if he finally builds up the nerve? Or maybe he’ll sneak into the kitchen and maul her there.”
“Hey—you work for me, remember?” I snarl, pointing my finger at my cousin and wanting to act irritated, but the truth is—the thought has merit. Blood rushes straight to my cock, aching so painfully at the idea of slamming my mouth on hers and kissing her wildly as I dominate every inch of her, running my hands over her body and marking her as mine. Hell, that memory of her kiss lingers on my lips the second I close my eyes.
“Yes. And if you give Isabelle the ‘D,’ it might make you a little less dickish.” I glare at her, but she doesn’t even bother with my bad moods anymore. She knows I’m all bark and no fucking bite when it comes to her. I’d have others on the chopping block after one cross word from them.
I thrust my fingers through my hair for what feels like the hundredth time today and then run them down my scarred face. I flex my hands before hanging my head in defeat. “Uh, you two, Isabelle would take one look at me and run. Fuck, spending a life without her is bad enough. Her rejection would make me wish I didn’t survive. So I’ll fucking pass, thank you very much.”
“She’d be a fool to reject you for your looks. Your attitude is a little surly, though, so you might want to work on that a bit.”
“I’m a fucking monster, Fabio. She deserves better.” My dogs start barking and come running into the room as if they sense my overwhelming sadness. They’re great at being there for me at the most opportune moments. I pet their heads as they press them to my thighs and look up at me with those pleading eyes.
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” I avoid the mirror like the plague, having removed most of them from my home like a ghoulish beast. “A lot of your scars are healing. Most of them are hardly visible with all the scruff you got going on. You walk for longer periods of time without a cane. You’re still a sexy bastard,” Mia says, coming around to the back of my chair and rubbing my shoulder.