His Dirty Bargain (Dirty Billionaires 3)

He goes down the stairs, I can’t keep my eyes off him. Please let him buy today. It’s so fucking annoying I want to deck him, and at the same time find out if his lips are as soft as they look.

Before I can get it together he’s back in front of me. A small nod, barely perceptible. “Are all six bedrooms on one level?”

Shaking my head, I go inside. “There is a third level, a lower level has two of the bedrooms and two bathrooms. There’s a recreation area downstairs as well. The master bathroom, double sinks, and this bathtub, is it big enough?”

Those soft lips purse. “It is, but it’s a soaking tub, not a jetted tub. I’d have to replace it.” He opens the glass door of the shower. “Steam shower?”

“Yes, the control is there.”

Another nod, and I fight not to squeal in happiness. I’m so good.

Tour over, I thank the housekeeper, then go outside where Enzo is leaning against my car deep in thought. “Okay, two more properties to go.”

A glance at my watch; it’s a little after nine thirty. Enzo took his time, taking everything in as we walked through the house. Unlike the first house, when I felt his eyes on me almost the entire time. The drive to the next house is quick without traffic.

His black eyes glisten with interest as we pull into the driveaway. I allow a small smile. “This place is priced to sell at below market. It’s only two point six million. As you might already be able to tell, it’s on five and a half lots. And it’s made use of every inch, there are six bedrooms and six bathrooms within twelve thousand square feet. Built in 1913 it’s designed by Maher. A few of the homes are in a three-block radius, and they are all Prairie style. Of course there are updates but many of the details remain, like this door. All of the wood is original.” I allow my hand to run over the rich wood along the stairs.

A corner of his lips tips up. “Putting an elevator in here would be a tragedy. You’ve been in here before.”

I nod. “A few times for the clients who say they want a large home, but what they really mean is a big condo in a steel and glass building. It never fails to make me sad. This is a real working fireplace, this hearth is gorgeous, those original glass doors; how can you not appreciate how beautiful this place is?” I point out the doors leading into the library. “Everything comes with it, the grand piano, the leather sofas, it’s all included.”

We head into the kitchen. “The kitchen was updated recently with restaurant-quality appliances.”

A frown appears as he looks around. “It’s not nearly wide enough. There isn’t the counterspace a kitchen this large needs. Why isn’t there a pantry in here? I would gut this and start over completely.”

It’s annoying when he’s right. “You’re right, it doesn’t match the rest of the house. They doubled down on wood in here, but it’s too light and the countertops look cheap. Redoing this and making it what you want won’t cost you much but a little bit of time.”

A dark eyebrow goes up as he looks at me. “And you would know about redoing a kitchen?”

I bristle. “I do. I’ve done two kitchen remodels. The two flat I purchased was a mess. I put up cabinets, did the backsplash, and painted myself. I also had to put in a new subfloor and laid hardwood without any help.”

A nod, I’m pretty sure the asshole is trying not to laugh. “My apologies, you don’t look like you would be one to get dirty. I stand corrected. I’ve done a little more than two, however, and this would take some time and quite a bit of money to get right. What would you do?”

Remembering what he said about the size of the kitchen, I see what he means even though it wasn’t my first thought. “I would blow out that wall. The problem will be it’s no doubt a load-bearing wall. The beam would run anywhere from five to eight grand easy. But once it’s done it will flow smoothly, making it one big kitchen, dining, and living area. You’ll be able to put in the island the space is screaming for, and even though the appliances in here cost somewhere around ten grand, they don’t look right in the space.”

Looking around, I sigh. It’s not a bad kitchen, it simply doesn’t fit the home. I feel Enzo’s eyes on me, and I chance a glance up at him. He’s leaning against the counter those black eyes are endless; I can’t look away. “Why do you want a home like this if it’s just you? Are you going to get married again?”

The moment the words are out I want to call them back. What the hell is the matter with me? Why is it getting harder and harder to breathe the longer he takes to answer the question? He shrugs. “I have no plans to marry again. I’m not sure really.” I can’t believe it. Enzo Sabatini not knowing exactly why he is doing something doesn’t seem like him at all. “I just know I want out of where I am, and I don’t want to go back to something like it again. A yard with grass, the ability to open a window are all appealing right now. Even the things I once thought I wanted, a doorman, the security...all that makes me feel claustrophobic, as if the walls are closing in.”

He straightens, tense, as though he said mo

re than he intended. “I felt the same way growing up. It didn’t make any sense, because at first I was grateful just to have my own bed, let alone an entire room all to myself. But it was the fourth floor in a six-story building and even though we had the whole floor, I always felt closed in. There were buildings on two sides of us, close enough to touch. As soon as I got to Chicago and saw all the houses around the city, I knew I would do whatever it took to live in one as soon as possible.”

“When did you buy your mess of a two flat?” He’s not quite as tense anymore; his mouth is soft again.

“Five years ago. I saved every spare penny, lived like a broke college student long after I was one and worked a second job as a translator for a small publishing house to do it.”

His eyebrows go up. “A broke college student? Neither your grandmother or mother helped you?”

I’m not really surprised he knows about my family and thought since Nonna was a comfortable millionaire with her buying and selling of real estate in Milan, some of that wealth would trickle down to me. Dante was upfront about the employees in the firm having a background check done by a security firm that could find out blood type and favorite color. The only problem was, Nonna spent hundreds of thousands on my mother’s medical treatments and now while still comfortable, she’s no longer a millionaire.

“No, when I left Italy I took two suitcases and not much else. Although I did take the jewelry Nonna and my mother had bought me, eventually I sold it all to live.” Even now I wince with regret at selling the jewelry. “I was daring to defy my mother; Nonna wasn’t happy with me either. They both felt me wanting to meet my father was a betrayal. I was discounting everything my mother endured. How could I want to see the father who abandoned us? He only married my mother to become a citizen, then left her the moment his approval came in the mail.” I roll my eyes. “All I wanted to do was talk to the man, just once, to see what he looked like, find out what his voice sounded like. I was curious.”

His eyes soften as he nods in understanding. “One conversation, one simple meeting, was all I wanted. They said if I got on the plane then don’t come back. My mother was so controlling, it was honestly a relief. Once I landed and realized I was totally on my own things, got scary fast. Okay, meeting my dad was as completely awful as they warned me it would be, but it was my horrible experience to have. I also got lucky. One of my father’s students heard the entire awful five-minute exchange; she put her arm around me and let me cry on her shoulder. Then she took me home and let me stay with her while I found a job.”

“Dante said you still visit Milan every Christmas. Your mother changed her mind?”

I shake my head as I remember. “No, Nonna did. I was always closer to Nonna. Nonna took care of me while my mother worked. She taught me Italian. We were both readers, both unwilling to give in to what the world said we were supposed to be. I missed her, and it hurt when she agreed with my mother. When I graduated I was shocked to find Nonna in the crowd. She asked me to come back home with her. I said no. I loved Chicago by then and I wasn’t going back; for me, Chicago was my home. While I loved Milan, still do, it never really felt like home. Although Nonna wasn’t happy, she understood as long as I promised to visit at Christmas. I’m grateful for her talking me into it, it was the last Christmas before my mother got sick.”