Playboy Billionaire

ANTONIO

A couple of months ago— a mere six months to be exact— I was a single man with nothing going for my life but parties and failing exceptions. I used to think I was failing my family's expectations of me, but the truth is, I was failing my own expectations of myself. When I met Stella Lombardi, I was an idiot for not sweeping her off her feet the moment she waltzed into my life. She would argue that I did, but I would argue that it’s not the way I should have.

Now, I’m married— it’s still so weird to say— about to walk across the stage at my graduation from Harvard with honors. My goddess wife watches from as close up as they would let her get, and the rest of my family at a live watch party in the Lombardi’s movie theater.

“Antonio Giuseppe San Giovanni.” The woman at the podium calls my name, and I make my way up the stairs. Calmly I cross the stage, shake hands with the dean, accept my diploma, and move the chords on my hat to the left side as I step off the stage. The entire time, I can hear Stella screaming her head off, and I force myself not to laugh. She’s probably more excited than I am that I made it. That I’m getting Neptune and all of our dreams for the future are that much closer.

The ceremony finishes, and I meet Stella, who is running to me. Her heels clacking on the marble floors. She leaps into my arms, and I spin her around into a kiss so passionate that I nearly fall over. However, I was completely steady before our lips touched. I fucking love Stella. Everything about her makes me want to be a better man because she sees me better than I see myself.

“Dinner at Huntington Beach?” She asks as I place her back on her feet.

“Yes, please!” I pretend to beg, and she rolls her eyes with a grin that could cure any ailment.

“Let’s go.” She grabs my hand, and we walk out of the stadium to our car. We had to fly to Massachusetts for the ceremony, so we’ve got to head to the jet immediately if we want to be at the beach by sunset. Stella and I have a tradition that we started every Saturday. We take turns picking one of our favorite chefs to cook a picnic for us, and then we bring it to a beach of our choosing to enjoy while we watch the sunset. It’s a nice break from our busy schedules.

The plane ride is quick, and thankfully we make it in time to our penthouse on the beach to change before the sun has even begun setting. Stella and I both wanted an escape from the city and from our families. They mean well but really don’t know how to stay out of our business. We felt Orange County was a pleasant place to live— still do— and having a penthouse overlooking the beach isn’t bad either. Reminds us of our time in Hawaii, that until disaster struck. It was a very memorable trip for us.

“I cannot wait to eat.” Stella dramatically throws herself onto the couch while our guest chef finishes cooking. She’s slipped on my favorite purple bikini with flowers and ties on it. Her body is fucking perfect, so anything would suit her, but I like the colors it brings out in her already breathtaking eyes. Her coverup is a Prada chiffon body wrap, purple like the suit, with some lace detailing.

Tonight we’re swimming because Stella keeps wanting to see the stars from the water and as much as I hate dark water– I have a deep fear of it. I want to go because I love to do anything that will keep that radiate smile on Stella’s flawless face.

“Ready!” Chef Ludo’s French accent calls to us as he taps on the freshly packed picnic basket.

“Thank you!” I grab it from the dining table and reach my hand for Stella to take as she crosses through the lounge room. As soon as she takes my hand, we head out the door and down to the end of the hall where the elevator is.

“You know, I have a meeting with Gucci tomorrow!” She squeezes my hand as we enter the elevator.

“No way!” I exclaim as the doors close as we descend to the bottom level.

“Yep.” She beams proudly.

“Congratulations! We’re celebrating two things tonight.” We step out of the elevator and head over to our car— a BMW I8. At first, Stella wasn’t wild about it, but the car has grown on her. The only reason we could get it was because we ended up getting rid of a lot of our security. We have a tight-knit team now, and the rest are with our families. It seemed appropriate since neither of us will be involved in our family businesses.

We made the choice just after announcing our marriage. It seemed right for us. We both wanted different things, apart from the mafia. Stella, to start a designer clothing line in her name, and me, to take over Neptune. Once Madame Lombardi heard of this, she made Stella promise that we would pick up the family business if Stella’s mother couldn’t properly run it. We decided that would be the only exception, and I think we were all surprised to see how well she’s performing in the role. A happy surprise, Stella called it.

I store our picnic basket in the trunk after helping her into her seat, and then I slide into mine. We’re about five minutes from Huntington, so we head up the coast, and I park at the designated beach parking. The sun has barely begun to set when I get out of the car, so we’ve got plenty of time to eat before the stars are out. I walk around the car, help Stella out, and grab our picnic basket from the trunk.

“Blankets!” Stella says before I close the trunk and reaches through my arms for the blankets and towels, stuffing them into the giant beach bag she brought. I close the trunk, and she flanks to my side as we walk to the beach in serene silence. The sounds of the ocean are like a lullaby, and I’m glad more than ever that we chose to live here. The sights and sounds of the city are entirely too congested. This is beautiful and peaceful.

We find a spot on the sand that's still warm from the heat of the sun shining on it all day. Stella lays the towel down when we are about ten feet from the ocean at an empty area of the beach. I open the picnic basket after sitting down and pass out the food. We start with the fruits, custom-aged cheeses, red wine, and fresh bread while debating the cost of her Fendi picnic basket and talking about the irony of it.

Next is the main course, pistachio sausage rolls, truffle grilled cheese finger sandwiches, and a salad tossed with caviar, potatoes, snow crab, gold leaves, and grated truffle on top. It’s one of Stella’s favorite meals yet.

“I think you just like anything with truffle.” I jest with her as I take another bite of salad.

“Honestly… you’re probably right.” She laughs and takes a bite of her grilled cheese. I smirk over at her and look her up and down. Her perfect skin glowing as the sun kisses the ocean. She’s a fucking masterpiece. I don’t know why we watch the sunset when I could just look at her. I do, most nights, look only at her. Barely see the sky that I know is stunning because she’s always captivated by it.

After dinner, we immediately run into the ocean. There’s no need to speak about it. It’s like we're on the same wavelength. We jump up and go. I show no hesitation, though I still hate the dark water. Instead, I focus on her— her glee, touches, and body glowing in the moonlight. I hold her up as she floats on her back to look at the stars; her smile is so wide that I can’t help but smile too. After a little, she looks into my eyes with a questioning look.

“We’re in dark water.” She implicitly grimaces.

“Yeah.” I laugh.

“You’re not scared?” She giggles. I pull her up to me, and she wraps her legs around my waist as the waves rock us lightly.

“No. I’m actually not scared of anything anymore.” She studies my eyes, brows low, mouth parted with a slight grin. “I used to be deathly afraid of failing. You told me that. The premiere party.” I tilt my head to her, and she shakes hers.

“I shouldn’t have said it to you that way—“