Playboy Billionaire

“But it’s true. I was.”

“Was?” Her brows turn up with curiosity, and I gently nod.

“I’m not scared to fail anymore because failing is what brought me to you. The one person who’s always constant and never looks at me as less-than.” A soft smile makes her cheeks and eyes glow with fervor.

“How could I ever look at you in any way but this? I’m more myself than I’ve ever been because of you, and I want you forever. I’ve never felt that for anyone else. You make me brave, too.” I study her sincerity for a second more before pressing my forehead to hers, kissing her lips softly at first, then she tugs on my hair with her fingers, and I hold her closer to me. Kiss her until we’re floating away from the sand, closer to open water than I’m comfortable with.. I tend to lose all sense of everything but her when we’re like this, crashing into each other like waves.

I want to fuck her, and I know she wants me too. The further we get from the shore, the less I think this is a good idea, but then again, if we keep this up, I might have no other choice. Her hands trail my body, her breasts press firmly to my bare chest, and I suck on her lip.

“Antonio.” She breathes and pulls away as I kiss her neck.

“We’re a little far from shore.” She points to the depth marker, indicating we are close to dropping off the sandbank. I laugh, mostly because all I can imagine is a shark just lurking near us, looking for a snack. She joins me as she lets go, and we swim quickly back to the beach.

“Do you know how close we were to being swept out to sea?” Stella lays back against the wet sand as we catch our breath, and I lay next to her.

“I don’t even want to think about it.”

She laughs and rolls closer to me, kissing me with salty wet lips. I reach up and cup my hand over her cheek, curl my fingers through her wet hair as she pulls away to look into my eyes.

“I love you,” I whisper, tracing her plump lips with my thumb.

“I love you,” She whispers back.

The next morning, Stella gets up before me to have her breakfast meeting with the creative directors of Gucci, which means I’m alone for half the day. I take the time to do something I’ve wanted to do for us for a while. Before I get the chance to begin, I get a call from Tito.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, so, this whole Russian mafia-marriage situation….”

“We shouldn’t bring it up. Give it time. The girls aren’t ready.”

“But will they give us time?”

“Tito, promise me you won’t say anything until they graduate. There are ways to stall the deal—“

“Yes, Antonio, but it is a deal. We signed it.” When he says it like that, it seems worse than I thought when it was all happening. I was so focused on making sure Stella was safe that I didn’t stop to question the complicated nature of our deal. We just need time. That’s all.

“Okay. Just wait. I’ll be gone this week—“

“Honeymoon.”

“Yeah. And it’s still a surprise, so don’t say anything to anyone until I tell Stella tonight.” The line is silent for a bit, and I’m beginning to think he’s hung up. “Tito?”

“Yep. Sorry. I was just writing down all the things I have to remember not to mention.”

“Ha. Ha.” I intone flatly.

“Have a nice trip.”

“Thanks, man.” I hang up and head to our home office. It’s the room at the top of the stairs, overlooking the west portion of the beach. I open the blinds to see out while I’m planning the final details of everything. I called Barker earlier this week to send me over a list of vacation rentals and stays because he is seriously a master. It’s probably because of all the trips he’s had to plan for the San Giovanni’s since I was a little kid.

I check off items on my list that were necessary for such a specific getaway. The first of which was to ensure Stella could take off. Starting a new business is hard enough. I want to avoid taking her away from it if she has necessary meetings to attend. Thankfully, I was able to call her assistant and free up her week. Neptune already knows of my leave, so I check that off as well. The only thing I can’t decide on is how to tell her. I ordered four suitcases full of designer clothes, custom-made for her by every designer she loves, so I was thinking I’d have those at the door when she gets home to surprise her.

Maybe that’s the best way? Have a chef come and cook things with truffles as well. Should I tell her over dinner? I’m not great at the “surprises” thing. I do try, but she’s much better at them than me.

After I finish setting up a document full of activities, I finalize our stay and alert our security team to be ready for the trip in the morning. There is a ring on the intercom, and I know the chef has arrived, so I bounce down the stairs to let him in. He gets cooking as I run back to the bedroom and throw on my Prada cream button-up with charcoal-looking nautical-themed sketches. Stella saw how I looked at it on the runway and surprised me with it a couple of months ago. See— better at surprises.

I pair it with my classic black Gucci slacks with a silver chain and black leather Prada platform loafers. I always comb through my hair with my fingers, a bit of styling balm to make my hair jut out. Jess sometimes calls it my K-Pop hair, but Stella says I’m much hotter, and she’s a real K-Pop fan, so I take her word for it. That’s a cute and embarrassing thing that I love about her. I laugh to myself about it as I finish up in the bathroom and head to the kitchen to watch our chef cook.