The Banker (Banker 1)

“Alright.” He brought his hands together, his fingers massaging his knuckles. “Was this what you were after the entire time?”

I held his gaze as my heart leaped into my throat. Scrutinized, I felt like a specimen under the microscope. It was a question I couldn’t dodge, and I had to answer it carefully. He knew I’d been following him. He knew I didn’t want to sleep with him. What other explanation did I have to give? It seemed to be a strange coincidence that I was there now—asking for a dream job.

When I didn’t answer, he pressed me again. “Answer me.”

“Your team reached out to me.”

“Too big of a coincidence.”

I still didn’t give an answer.

He continued to massage his knuckles. “I’ve got all day.”

Cato Marino was far too suspicious of a man to sneak by. If I didn’t admit to this, he would just keep digging until he found my purpose. And my real purpose was much worse than my fake purpose. That was something he couldn’t uncover. “Yes. I wanted this job. I wanted to study you to find out what kind of artwork you might like. I wanted to get to know you to understand your soul. That way, when I pitched myself to you, I would have more to offer than anyone else.”

He held my gaze and listened to every syllable coming out of my mouth. His reaction wasn’t obvious because he kept his intimate thoughts too close to his mind. “That’s dedication.”

“I take my job seriously.” Along with my father’s life.

“Very seriously, if you’re willing to sleep with a man for it.”

It was an insult that I deserved because that was exactly what I was doing. I didn’t want anything to do with this man. If our fates weren’t so intertwined, I never would have bothered. He was way too complicated for me. But I didn’t want him to perceive me that way, like I was really that ambitious. “That wasn’t the only reason I wanted to sleep with you.”

He watched me for a long time, his eyes hooked to mine without flinching. He didn’t seem pleased or annoyed by that response. Like I hadn’t said anything at all, he changed the subject. “It’s a big project. Hope you can handle it.”

“I can handle anything.”

He rose to his feet and left his scotch behind. It seemed like the conversation was over because he headed to the door. “Then you’re hired.”

7

Cato

Just like everyone else, she wanted something from me.

Most women wanted a good lay. Most women wanted the opportunity to make me fall in love with them. Most women wanted to get their hands on my money.

But no woman had ever wanted a job from me.

I should be annoyed with Siena, but in actuality, I was impressed. Just like me, when she wanted something, she went out and seized it. Most people wouldn’t have that kind of drive and patience. She did all her research before she finally made her move.

I’d done the same thing at the beginning of my career. I studied all my targets before I moved in. Tried to learn what they liked and didn’t like. From their religious beliefs down to their economic standpoints, I knew every little thing.

She’d been on my radar since the first time I’d spotted her, so I didn’t feel fooled by her ploy. My guard had always been up because it was a permanent fortress that surrounded my hard exterior. Maybe if she really had fooled me, I would be angry with her. But I couldn’t be angry with a woman who worked so hard to get what she wanted.

I didn’t know shit about the art industry, but I knew this was a multimillion-dollar project.

Anyone would kill for the opportunity.

If she were a man, anyone would call her ruthless and ambitious.

That was exactly how I saw her.

My Tuscan home was relatively new. I’d purchased it last summer and had the interior designer take care of all the changes I wanted. It was a long project, and now that it was completed, it needed the finishing touches. My home wasn’t just the residence where I spent my summers, but it was also the place where I invited my special clients and threw my cocktail parties. Having stunning pieces of art on the walls was an essential part of that experience. I wasn’t an art aficionado by any means, but I could appreciate it—to a certain degree.

Bates and I had just finished work in the main office when Giovanni stepped inside.

“Miss Siena is waiting for you in the drawing room, sir.” Instead of having him wear a butler’s outfit, I allowed him to dress casually like the rest of the staff. I only wore suits for special occasions, so I didn’t see why he needed to vacuum in three layers of clothing.