The Banker (Banker 1)

I had nothing.

Cato was too much of a pig to seduce. He was too strong to take down. And he was too guarded for me to intercept him.

I had a greater chance of flying to the moon than making this work.

The last memory I had of him floated in my mind. He stood outside the elevator in his black boxers, his muscled chest heaving with rage. Everything about him was sexy, from his narrow hips to his muscular thighs. He looked at me like I was the biggest pain in the ass—but he was still sexy.

Such a damn pig.

I’d had my fair share of playboys and assholes, but Cato Marino was a whole new level.

The man thought he was God.

He thought he could do whatever he wanted without explanation. It was so selfish that he didn’t even consider what his date might want. The second I walked out of there, he probably called another woman to replace me. Then he fucked them both and forgot about me altogether.

Pig.

My phone rang, and someone I didn’t want to talk to was on the other line. “Yes, Damien?”

His smile was audible over the line. “Sweetheart, I love the happiness in your voice.”

“You call it happiness. I call it disgust. So what do you want?”

“Right to the point,” he said with a chuckle.

I cut to the chase before he could drag it out. “I’m still working on it. I’ve interacted with Cato a few times but haven’t figured out a way to make this work.”

“So you did decide to sleep with him.”

“No. Never said that.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. When do you think this is gonna happen?”

“I really don’t know,” I snapped. “You’ve given me a task that’s impossible to complete.”

“That doesn’t bode well for your father…”

Instead of pitying my father for being locked away, I was livid with him. If only he had listened to me, all of this wouldn’t be happening. He cared more about money than protecting his family—now I was the one fixing everything. I despised money with every fiber of my being. I didn’t miss a life of luxury, not when it came with so much hardship. My little house outside of Florence was perfect. I had enough money for everything I needed on a budget—and that was more than enough. “I’ll figure it out, Damien.”

“Alright. Just don’t take too long.” Click.

I set the phone down and shoved my hand back into the candy bag. I got a fistful of sugar then stuffed it into my mouth, not caring about the impact on my waistline. It wasn’t like I still needed to seduce Cato.

My phone started to ring again, this time with a number I didn’t recognize. I answered. “Siena.”

“Hello, Siena. How are you?” The deep voice over the line was inherently familiar, filled with a fatherly affection.

The image of Crow Barsetti popped into my mind, but that was ridiculous considering I hardly knew him. Our interactions had only lasted a handful of minutes. I’d had an immediate draw to him the last time I saw him, feeling that same sensation in my chest that I felt toward my own father. “Crow?”

“Yes.” He spoke with affection. “I have a distinctive voice, don’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you do.” I was just threatened by Damien minutes ago, but that seemed so long ago now. Crow’s warmth washed away Damien’s coldness. “How can I help you?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation a lot.”

Had he decided to help me?

“I haven’t changed my position on the matter. I’ve got a large family to think about. But I was able to make some calls and get some information for you.”

“Really?” I asked, gasping slightly. “Oh my god, thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say…”

“Well, it’s not a lot to work with, but Cato is looking for an art buyer to decorate his home in Tuscany. That’s what you do for a living, correct?”

“Yes.” I didn’t ask how he knew that.

“I put in a good word for you. Said you were the best.”

He’d really stuck out his neck for me. “Wow…”

“It’s a way into his home and a way to get his attention. It’s not the kind of job his assistant can handle. Art is very personal, so he’ll have to approve of everything you find for him. It’s the closest you’re going to get.”

I already got pretty close to his bed…but that didn’t work out. “Thank you so much, Crow. Really…it means a lot to me. I’ll never forget your kindness.”

He was quiet for a long time, letting the silence dangle between us. “I know how important family is. So do you.”

I was at the gallery a few days later when the phone rang on the desk. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and business was slow. Few people were looking for a professional art buyer in the middle of the day.