I’m heading toward the farthest right corner of the terrace when I spot him. Sitting on a chair all by himself, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. It’s rare to see someone my age actually smoke a cigarette. Everyone I know vapes. And I’m not one to find smokers attractive. Smoking kills. It’s the worst. A nasty habit.
But Tony Sorrento slouched in a chair in a full suit and a loosened tie around his neck with a cigarette between his full lips is something I cannot resist.
“Tony Sorrento.”
He glances up when he hears his name, a faint smile curling his lips as he plucks the unlit cigarette from his lips. “Hayden Channing.”
Hmm, someone mentioned me to him. “You know my last name.”
He tips his head. “You know mine.”
“My father told me,” I admit.
“Same.” He hesitates for only a moment. “My father hates your father.”
“Mine hates yours too. I think they’re mortal enemies.” I take a few steps closer, so I’m standing directly in front of him. A breeze picks up, catching my skirt so the hem grazes his knees.
“Did yours forbid you from talking to me?” He raises a single dark brow, his expression questioning.
I burst out laughing. “No. Though he did call you
, and I quote, ‘bad news’.”
“I’ve never met your father before in my life. He doesn’t even know me,” he says with a grimace.
“That’s what I told him! How could he know you’re bad news if he’s never even met you?” I shake my head.
“Exactly. People are so judgmental.” His gaze rakes over me, lingering on my chest for a little too long and making my skin warm. Guess he’s not put off by my natural breasts. “Can I confess something to you?”
If he confesses he’s attracted to me and wants to sneak away into a secret closet somewhere, I’m going to readily agree, no questions asked. “Sure,” I say, my voice cool. Like he doesn’t affect me whatsoever.
“Today is the first time I’ve seen my father in years,” he admits. “We talk on the phone, or we text, but that’s about it.”
Oh. That’s not even close to what I expected him to confess. Though he did mention he was seeing his father for the first time when we were at the dealership. “How long has it been?”
“Give or take six years,” he says with a shrug.
“Really?” I practically squeak. When he nods, I continue, “If you haven’t seen him, how did he get your cars to you?”
“He had them sent. He has everything sent. He sends me gifts in the mail. Deposits money in my account. Makes sure my mom and I have everything we need. When I moved out for college, he took care of my tuition, my living expenses, everything.” He looks off in the distance, the breeze ruffling his dark hair. “He gives me everything but his time.”
My heart pangs for him. I know what that feels like. “I assume he’s busy.”
“Yeah, with his new family,” he mutters with seeming disgust. “Today is the first time I’ve met my stepmom too. Though she’s not that much older than me.”
Interesting. No wonder she acted like he was a brand-new toy for her to play with. “Guess it’s been a big day for you then.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He shifts, digging through his front pocket before he pulls a lighter out, settling the cigarette between his lips before he brings the lighter to the end and lights it. He immediately blows out a hazy string of smoke and I can’t help but frown. “I’m guessing you hate smoking.”
“It’s a dirty habit,” I say without hesitation.
“I’m sure you’ve got a few.” He sends me a knowing look.
Ooh. That was kind of hot.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I tease, hoping I sound sultry, though maybe my response is silly. I don’t know.
He smiles, but says nothing, and his lack of response is unnerving. Look, men don’t scare me. They never really have. I’ve always been a flirt. I can admit I like a guy’s attention, but I don’t need it twenty-four/seven. Yes, I had the typical relationships in high school, but once I got into college, I became selfish.