Playboy Billionaire

“I’d like two rounds of shots— tequila….” I look back down at the options and point to the most expensive one. She nods, writing it down. I catch Antonio’s eyes widen from the corner of mine, and I fight the smile begging to creep up.

“And to eat?”

“That will be all for now.” As she’s walking away, I call after her. “And a martini as well!” She gives me a nod and writes it down as she walks.

“What the hell, Lombardi?”

I tilt my head back to him and blink at him with amusement. “What?” My smile widens now. I take a sip of my water while he studies my face, causing the air between us to feel like a stretched rubber band. Inertia, I believe the term is. That feeling at the top of a roller coaster before we’re about to tip over the edge. I tap my fingernails on the table, and he watches them for a second.

“Why did you even give me a second chance?” He pushes his curls from his eyes to really study every cue of body language I have while I speak.

“Mmm. Honestly, San Giovanni, I like challenges.” His chest rises slightly as he lets out a laugh, his eyes focused on me, waiting for a real explanation.

“The truth is, I think this whole setup is ancient mafia bullshit that I would rather avoid completely, but my autonomy rests upon compliance, so here I am.” The shots get delivered as I finish speaking, and I take two without a chaser, forcing my face to remain composed so I look like a badass. Why I give two fucks about that, I don’t know. He’s hot. That’s why.

“Fuck. Pretty much the same here.” He raises his brow in question at my tray of tequila, and I nod back, letting him take a shot.

“Guess we’re both screwed then.” I roll my eyes, accept the martini our waitress hands to me as Antonio furrows his brows, silently perplexed over something.

“You think our families actually need us to bridge their alliance?”

“I think they do.” I tense my brows, studying his face for the point of his words.

“Well… just an idea… but,” he leans in, lowering his voice. “What if we only pretend to date?” I cock my head, unsure of what this would mean. “Hear me out.” He holds up his hands, thinking my reaction was immediate disapproval, when it was merely curiosity.

“I get to prove to my family that I’m not a screw-up… they’ll think it's because I’ve got a woman in my life— one they see as an ideal partner. I get my family business… you get your autonomy– and whatever… and then we split up on such amicable terms that our families will see how the Lombardis and San Giovannis can work together without marriage binding cooperation.”

I’ll give him credit, he definitely knows how to talk his way into anything… I think that skill might work both ways, so he would be a safe investment if the plan doesn't go as smoothly as we want. Additionally important to note that my tequila hit while he was talking, so he could have said the sky is blue, and I would have thought it was sexy the way his lips moved when he spoke. This is business though. All it is. He’s attractive, and I can admit it without it being a distraction. I think.

“I love it.” I smile, and his eyes light up as he leans in closer. “Oh!” I put my fingertips on his mouth, leaning back and taking another shot before continuing. “Rules.” I nod, and his jaw shifts in anticipation.

“Okay, what are these rules you speak of?” He formally asks in a sarcastic candor.

“First rule— and this is immovable, Antoni,” (Why did I just shorten his name?) He gives me an amused laugh, looking like he’s forcing himself to nod back into seriousness. “No sex.”

He furrows his brows about to protest, but I purse my lips and narrow my eyes at him, and he drops his hand that was about to make a point.

“Like,” he huffs. “Okay… So, no sex with each other?”

“No sex period. If we’re gonna pull this off, we can’t be sleeping around. Word travels fast.”

“This is LA, notLittle House On The Prairie, Stell.” I scrunch my nose at his shortening of my name because only my family calls me Stell and hold back an eye-roll unsuccessfully.

“No sex. Or no deal.”

He sucks in a long breath that impresses me because what guy in his twenties nowadays doesn’t have fucked up lungs from all the smoking they do?

“Fine.” He hisses out.

“Fine?”

“Yes, Stell. Fine. What else?”

I smile, pleased with myself, looking up to the chandelier to think for a moment.

“Mmm.” He blinks at me flatly, bracing himself for any other demands.

“We should be seen out and about. The paps are vicious in LA. They won’t hesitate to snap some shots when we’re down here. In Malibu, I may need to call them to come, but still. We’ve got to be out with each other, at least every other day.” His eyes widen at my words.