Christmas with the Boss (The Fiore Family 2)

“No. God, no. I’m just going to finish the evening with John and see what happens.”

“Fine. Maybe something happened in Fabio’s day or something.”

“Well, when I came in, he was sitting at the table talking to John in a friendly conversation, but then something happened.”

“Fabio’s a gentleman, and maybe John noticed how sexy you looked and commented something that would piss Fabio off.” Then I remember that he’s been overly friendly with me, as if this isn’t our first date.

“Maybe. Either way, I’m ready to call it a night.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks. Talk to you later.” I end the call, tuck my phone in my purse, and then reapply my lipstick. With another deep breath, I straighten my spine and head out of the bathroom. I can’t see my table yet, so I creep around the corner and see Fabio and John arguing about something, and then John answers his phone. It’s got to be something that has nothing to do with me. I wait until he gets off the phone to enter the dining area.

Fabio’s eyes reach me first, roaming over my body with disgust on his face. Wow, I can’t… Breathe. He doesn’t matter. I might say that internally, but I honestly feel like crying. So the fight is probably about me and how I’m not worthy enough for John. He’s a doctor, after all, but why does Fabio care? Why does he hate me that much?

Chapter Two

Fabio

Anger, brutal anger and regret flowed through my veins as I watched her walk in with a beautiful smile on her perfect face.

I regret the damn offer of a free dinner for Dr. Malcolm. He was my brother’s surgeon and so I had him handle Isabelle’s surgery, having no idea that he’d go after Anabelle.

My Anabelle.

She’s supposed to be with me, and there’s no way she won’t be. I’ve waited too long to learn of her existence, and now someone’s trying to take my place. Hell, I had no idea I’d want Anabelle until she answered the phone last week when I was trying to call Isabelle to check on her recovery.

“Talk dirty to me,” Anabelle answers with a sultry tone that shoots through me.

“Excuse me,” I reply, choking out my shock. My dick instantly stiffens, taking me by greater surprise.

“Oh my God. I totally thought you were someone else, Mr. Fiore.” I can almost see her stunned expression and blush over the phone because I know what her twin looks like. I know they’re twins, but I’m starting to wonder why I’m instantly attracted to Anabelle. The sound of her voice is different than her sister’s. Fuck, my dick is hard thinking about talking dirty to her, but then my mind jumps straight to who the fuck that was for.

“Now you have me curious who that someone else is,” I growl out, feeling extremely possessive.

“How about we just forget all about it, Mr. Fiore?”

“I’m not sure I’d like that.”

She refused to tell me who she thought it was, but I hadn’t forgotten and now I know. She’s been seeing the asshole I invited into her life—a doctor no less. Four years, and she’s been under my nose this whole time. Thoughts of having a family with her plague my mind. We could have had a couple of kids by now, and she wouldn’t be out on a date with another man. That’s the worst part of it all, having set the path for the two of them to meet in the first place.

Fuck. I had to have an excuse to push my way into her life without just demanding she marry me, so I asked her to redesign our menus and our website scheme. Apparently, I didn’t move fast enough. Now I have to get rid of him. Murder and burying him on my brother’s estate all come to mind as I watch them like a creepy voyeur. I can’t take my eyes off her as he helps her remove her coat, and bile fills my throat as I think about them together.

I stab my fork into the table in front of me, bending the fucker because I’m so pissed that her flawless skin is under his hands. He makes a concerted effort to touch her. She wore a long, dark green dress with sleeves that are slit down the middle. I want to tear that dress from her body and make her mine for the world to see. Still, I know I can’t, considering I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me one bit.

She goes to the bathroom, giving me my opening. I make my way to their table, which will be dealt with by tomorrow. “Having a good time?” I snarl.

“I would be if you weren’t shooting daggers my way while staring at my date. I get that you’re not just upset because she works for you. You want her for yourself.” His accusation is one hundred percent correct, which makes this all the more easier to get my point across.