The Banker (Banker 1)

Regardless of what her question was, I wouldn’t give her an answer.

She tilted her head slightly. “Are you happy, Cato?”

The definition of happiness was lost on me. My money made me feel secure. My power made me feel invincible. The women in my bed made me feel like a king. But happy…I wasn’t sure if I’d ever felt that before. The only thing close was seeing my mother comfortable and safe. Sometimes when I stopped by the house, I saw her tending to her garden, wearing a floppy sun hat as she got her hands dirty in the soil. She was at ease, reading by the window in the morning and then making me lemonade when I stopped by for a visit. Giving her a life she deserved was the only thing that ever made me feel anything. Everything else was just momentary highs. Making money was exhilarating, but after a few hours, the effect wore off. Making two women come before I finished ballooned my ego, but once the fun was over and we lay in bed, I was back to my calm coldness.

The answer was right in front of me.

No. I wasn’t happy.

We got into the back seat of my car.

“To the residence.” I hit the button and raised the shade between the driver and us. The summer sun had set, and Milan was illuminated with the brilliant lights from the historic buildings and churches. We could return to my plane and be home in an hour, but I wasn’t in the mood to finish the journey.

Siena turned to me, her legs crossed and her safety belt across her chest. “Where are we going?”

“To my place.” I wasn’t going to ask if that was okay with her. Her preferences didn’t matter.

“Aren’t you going to ask me first?”

I stared out the window. “No.”

She continued to stare at my side profile. “That’s rude.”

“You work for me, remember?”

“Yes, I work for you. But I’m not being paid to fuck you.”

I turned my face to her, noting the way she looked stunning regardless of the lighting. “After sitting across from you at dinner all night, the last thing I want to do is wait another hour and a half before I can get you on your back. I want to taste that red wine on your tongue. I want to remember how sweet your cunt tastes. I want to be balls deep inside you, fucking the woman who’s teased me all night with her beauty. Maybe I’m impatient, but I have every right to be impatient. Do you have a problem with that?”

Her hostility faded away as desire entered her gaze. The cues she gave were always subtle because she didn’t wear her feelings on her sleeve. She was too proud to be obvious, too respectable to be deciphered. But there were hints of her emotions in the subtle movements she made, the slight shift of her eyes when she tried to hide something.

When I didn’t get an answer, I forced her to give me one. “Do you?”

She cleared her throat. “No. I don’t have a problem with that.”

I owned a five-story building in Milan. After I’d bought it, the inside had been remodeled into a three-story home. The bottom two floors housed my security and weapons. We walked inside and took the elevator to the third floor.

Siena looked around as we stepped into the large living room. With hardwood floors, couches as soft as pillows, and a beautiful floor-to-ceiling window that showed the city, it was cozy like my place in Florence. I had many homes in different cities, and that was because it was the only way to truly guarantee my safety. All my homes were bulletproof. All of them were full of a security detail. My private property was the only way to control the situation. Going to a hotel or a public place made me vulnerable to an attack.

Besides, my homes were more luxurious than any hotel.

Siena slipped off her heels right away and left them in the middle of the floor. Now she was several inches shorter, but her confidence still projected her at an impressive height.

I headed to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”

“No.”

I turned back around and ignored the scotch calling my name. If she wanted to get right down to business, so did I. I walked over to her and saw the color rise in her cheeks. Her breathing had picked up, the intensity of our privacy rattling her. She faced me with the same confidence, but there was a hint of intensity that couldn’t be denied. She’d already slept with me, but it seemed like this was the first time again.

I pulled the paper out of my wallet and handed it to her.

She unfolded it and read through the results. Apparently, my word wasn’t good enough. She checked the name of the laboratory as well as the date before she handed it back. “I didn’t know we were going to do this now. I didn’t bring mine…”