Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)

Her fingers immediately responded to mine. They shifted against my skin until they clung to me tightly. She eyed our combined hands, her anger immediately gone when the affection arrived.

***

We sat at a table near the window and enjoyed appetizers and the different wines we sampled. I’d already tried every kind of wine in my vicinity. I knew what I produced and I understand what my competitors made. The experience was anti-climatic.

But Button enjoyed it.

She sampled each wine after she stirred the glass like a professional. “I like this one.”

“It’s one of mine.”

“Really?”

I nodded.

“How many kinds of wines do you produce?”

That was a loaded question. “Of the top of my head...at least a hundred.”

“Wow. Have you always been interested in wine?”

“I suppose. But I’ve always been interested in hard liquor as well.”

“Did you start the winery on your own?”

I nodded.

She rested her wrists on the edge of the table, her toned arms sexy. Her hair had fallen to both shoulders because she stopped touching, and it framed her face like she was about to step into a photo shoot. The dress covered the scars on her back and ass but I knew they were there. “How did you accomplish that?”

My mind was pulled from the small scars across her ass. “I’ve been in the weapon business for a long time. I had a falling out with my father and set out to open my own business. I was tired of being bossed around. I was tired of living in his shadow. So I took my cut and opened the winery. Within a few years, it was a success.”

“When did you go back to the business?”

“When my father passed away.” I’d never truly grieved for him either. The last time we spoke we both said hurtful things. Years of silence passed until Mom called me and told me the news. “I returned to the business with Cane and we became partners. So my time has been split between the two.”

Even though she was silent her eyes showed her interest. Every word entered her ear and stayed in her mind. She gave me her entire focus whenever we were together. “Do you enjoy it now?”

“Not really.” The business wasn’t something I was proud of. It led to more problems than it was worth. I made a lot of enemies, the kind that never slept. Bones was my biggest adversary, a fight born before we even met each other. “But Cane wants me to be a part of it. Doesn’t want to run it on his own.”

“When did you start listening to him?”

The corner of my lip lifted in a smile. “I know he can’t handle it alone. He’s impulsive whereas I’m methodical. He’s impatient while I take things slow. He thinks with greed more than logic. We balance each other out.”

“Do you enjoy the winery?”

“Yes. It’s an honest living and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. I started the vineyards when I was eighteen and within a few years it became the biggest winery in Italy.”

“Your mother must have been proud.”

“Yes.” But my father never was. He called it pussy shit.

“I’d like to see it sometime, if you’re willing to show me.”

“Sure.” I wouldn’t mind taking her over my desk in my office after a day in the fields. I wouldn’t mind showing her off to my workers, letting them see the woman I took to bed every night. Having her on my arm was a power play sometimes.

She finished her wine then moved onto the next one. “Thank you for answering my questions.”

She’d been living with me for three months and we never had a conversation about anything real. It was straight down to business, straight down to buttons and lace. I answered her questions with ease without even realizing it. She knew more about me than anyone, with the exception of Lars. “I don’t mind answering them when it doesn’t feel like an interrogation.”

“I’ve never wanted to interrogate you. I’ve only wanted to know you.” Her eyes dropped to her glass and she stirred the wine before she took a drink.

Anytime her gaze was averted I watched her. I examined the way her fingers gripped the top of the glass with her painted nail. They were ruby red, matching the color of her lipstick. She had long and slender fingers, perfect for wrapping around my cock when she sucked me off. When her lids were down I could see every single lash as it reached out and curved upright at the ends. They were full and lush, thicker than I’d ever seen them. She was beautiful every day without make up but when she dressed herself up she looked too good to be true. Never in my life had I sat across from a woman more gorgeous than she. And she didn’t have a clue. How did someone from a calloused background become so soft and beautiful? How did she hold onto her natural elegance, her pride? “You grew up in New York?”