“I know.” She didn’t hesitate, because she did know that much about him. At least when it came to what his father had done. That had been in the gossip grapevine for a long time. Everyone knew about how much Arturo hated his father with a passion.

What she was really hoping for was that Arturo wouldn’t be like his father when it came to matters of business. She was intent on getting Baciami Boutique signed back over to her grandfather.

“I’m glad you know that,” Martina said. “However, it is something of a delicate subject. I should not have to mention it, but do not bring it up to him.”

“I won’t,” she promised. There was definitely something about this woman that made her want to be on her best behavior.

Then she realized something. “Hey, you said the men were told not to speak to me unless absolutely necessary?”

“Yes?”

“Well, and I’m not ratting him out or anything, but Sam was talking to me. Why does he get to do that but the others don’t?”

Martina just smiled again. “Sam does as he pleases. He’s not frightened of Mr. Calendri.”

Interesting.

“This will be your room,” Martina said. She opened a dark mahogany door—probably solid wood and everything—to what had to be one of the nicest bedrooms she’d ever seen. It was top-end hotel quality nice.

A hotel for mega-rich people. Not normal rich, but mega-super-billionaire rich.

That shouldn’t be impressive to her. Why was that impressive to her?

She stepped inside. Everything was neat and clean, with the scent of air freshener like the hotels used as well. This room must’ve been freshened up before she’d come.

“I trust everything is to your liking?”

Isla moved to a door that she thought would be the bathroom, just to open it and find a massive, brightly lit walk-in closet.

She gasped. “Yes, it’s great.”

She wished she had a closet like this back at the apartment she shared with Jane. She didn’t even have a closet like this back at her parents’ house.

Down, girl, stop drooling. You can’t fill it up with your own stuff anyway.

For one thing, it wasn’t like she was living here. This wasn’t her closet, so there was no need to fill it with a ton of clothes that she didn’t have. What she’d brought might be able to fit nicely in the corner without being too obvious.

She shut the door and took a quick look around. Scanning the room with her eyes. Tall, canopy bed. Ceiling-high windows again, with more raw-silk curtains. Despite the impressive closet, there was also a gorgeous wardrobe and matching dresser. There was another door. She was guessing that one led to the bathroom.

“The boys should be up with your things,” Martina said, frowning and turning back. “I don’t know what could be keeping them.”

A crash sounded downstairs. It was so unexpected that she jumped. Angry, super pissed-off shouting followed from a man who was not Arturo. “Where the hell is he?”

REAL END OF CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN BELOW

Isla had never heard anyone sound so angry in her entire life. When Martina rushed down the hall to see what was going on, she moved, too. She followed without even thinking about it and came to the top of the stairs when Martina arrived at the bottom.

Sam wasn’t down there, but the other two manservants were, along with another young man with soft brunet hair. He was slim, but wearing casual jeans and a plaid button down over a white T-shirt. He was speaking to another man with long-ish blond hair, who looked incredibly angry and impatient in that moment.

Isla’s luggage was on the floor. It must have been dropped at some point because one of her cases had broken open, and to her mortification, her underwear had spilled out.

Martina rushed to it, collecting her undergarments and stuffing them quickly and efficiently into her bags. “He’s not here. You should wait for him politely if you want to speak with him instead of knocking things out of people’s hands.”

“I asked where Arturo was, not for your opinion.”

The other maid was nowhere to be seen, which was probably a good thing, considering the angry blond who stood in the foyer, his arms crossed, glaring at the staff like they were his absolute worst enemies.

That was why Isla was frozen where she was. She’d followed Martina without thinking, wanting to make sure the older woman wasn’t about to run off into a robbery attempt or something, but now that she was here, her embarrassment kept her in place. This man wasn’t a burglar, clearly. He was well-dressed, on a first-name basis with Arturo, and speaking to the staff in a way that suggested he was above them. Or at least felt that he was.

Martina didn’t demand the blond-haired man leave, but neither did she make him welcome either.

Who was he?

The man kicked Isla’s bag with the tip of his foot. “Who does this belong to?”

“Not to Angela. Will you please stop that?”

“Who does it belong to?” the blond asked again, a glint of impatience and anger in his eyes when he spoke through his teeth.

“That’s mine,” Isla said, kind of pissed herself as she finally found her spine and rushed down the stairs. “Stop kicking my things.”

The blond frowned at her and stepped back as she got up into his face.

The younger brunet standing next to him backed off, his eyes wide.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “You can’t just stomp into places and kick around people’s stuff!”

The blond grinned. “What? Are you serious? Who the hell are you?”

“That’s not your fucking business.” Yeah, she was kind of angry now. Or, maybe a lot angry. If any of her jewelry kits had been inside, she would have been majorly pissed off if they’d popped open and beads and whatnot had spilled all over the floor. Her panties and a bra were all bad enough. Not to mention his treatment of the staff was pretty bad in the ten seconds she’d been around him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Definitely not Arturo’s new fuck toy, that’s for sure.”

“Sebastian, please,” said the brunet helplessly.

Sebastian? The name was familiar, and then it clicked who he was. She was instantly not so sure of herself.

Oh, shit, this was one of Arturo’s brothers. His half-brother.

She swallowed hard and tried to regain her composure on the double. “It doesn’t matter if you’re Arturo’s brother. You don’t have the right to kick around my things and make trouble for them because of it. And I am not Arturo’s fuck toy!” she added, even more enraged than when she’d started talking.

Sebastian just smiled at her, a light, condescending shake of his head that made her blood bubble and boil even more. “Right. That’s what all those thongs and lacy things mean, right?”

She slapped him. Hard. Her hand flew like it was riding the wind on a mind of its own.

There was a gasp as Sebastian’s head turned to the side. His eyes were wide. He probably felt the pain, but couldn’t believe she’d done it.

Too bad for him.

Martina was the first to recover and react. “Miss King!”

Martina gently took Isla by the shoulders and pulled her back. She put herself in front of Sebastian just then. “I apologize, Mr. Calendri.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t apologize for me!” Isla snapped.

Great. Now she was the one yelling at people.

The brunet stepped forward. “She’s right. She didn’t do anything wrong,” he said softly. “Sebastian, that was mean, come on.”

Actually, Isla thought she was the one who should apologize, but her hand stung from the strike and she was angry and embarrassed. She couldn’t get it out. This was the second time she’d hit someone like that in just a matter of days. She didn’t like this side of herself, and she didn’t know what to say about it.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have—”

Sebastian glared at the man. “What? You want me to apologize to her? Fuck her and fuck Arturo, too. All of you can go to hell,” he snapped, and then spun on his heels and marched toward the door.

Okay, now she wasn’t so sorry anymore. They were even as far as she was concerned.

“Sebastian,” said the brunet, who tried to follow.

“Get away from me!” Sebastian snapped, halting the other man in his tracks just as the door slammed.

The noise echoed in the vast foyer, leaving only the sounds of Robert and the others getting her bags in order.

The shorthaired brunet scratched a hand through his hair before turning around. He had something of an apologetic smile on his face, as if he worried what Isla would have to say about one of the Calendri men being an angry asshole.

They probably were all used to being treated that way.

"Sorry about my brother. He's just… angry."

"Brother?" Isla asked, her stomach sinking heavier and heavier inside of her.

She was so glad she'd thought the angry asshole comment instead of saying it out loud.

She was so focused on her embarrassment, she barely noticed the man stepping forward and extending his hand. "I'm Orlando Calendri. You just met Sebastian."

She shook his head. "R-right, I know you. I mean, not really. I know of you."

"Good things, I hope," Orlando said, putting his hands into his pockets as he stared down at her, that same soft smile still on his face.

This guy didn't look at all like he had one dickhead bone in his body.

She tried to bring up the files in her brain of what Orlando Calendri was like, but there wasn't much there.

He was the youngest of all the brothers, she knew that much, and supposedly the nicer, more approachable Calendri.

That part was proving to be true right about now.

"Is he always like that?" she asked, motioning to the door where Sebastian just stormed off.

"No, usually he's angry," Orlando said.

Isla's eyes flew wide, and Orlando laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. That was bad, though. Uh, yeah, he's just pissed off at Arturo."

"What? Why?"

Orlando shrugged. "Arturo and Silvio have this game with him. Someone insults or does something to someone else, and so the other has to get some kind of proper revenge. I usually try to stay out of it."

Orlando's smile faded when he said that. This wasn't just a brotherly rivalry that was going on. From the sound of it, Sebastian had been majorly ticked off about a woman named Angela.

Could she be the blonde from the other day? The one Isla had seen coming out of Arturo's back office?

No wonder Sebastian had called her his fuck toy.

"Well, don't let it bother you so much," Orlando said. "Are you with Arturo?"

She realized after about two seconds how he meant that. "Oh, well, not… not really?"

"Not really?"

Orlando looked like a sweet guy, but he was smart enough to realize something was up. His eyes flicked over to her luggage, which was being taken up the stairs to her room now that everything had been cleaned up.

He'd seen her underwear and black lacy things pop out of her bags as much as Sebastian had seen them.

Great.

Orlando smiled. "Sorry. Not my business, but Arturo really is a good guy. He'll treat you right while you're with him."

She smiled back at him as she breathed a tiny sigh of relief, which she hadn't even been aware she was holding onto.

It was nice hearing from someone in the family, who seemed so nice and already easy to talk to, that she was in okay hands.

She didn't like being thought of as a fuck toy, but in hindsight, as much as she hated to admit it, that was what she was.

But Orlando seemed all right. He turned to Martina. "When does Arturo get back? I wanted to talk to him about the Walt contract."

Martina almost looked like she was about to bow at the waist. She didn't. "I'm very sorry. He must be working late tonight. Would you like to stay and wait for him, or should I pass along a message?"

"Uh," Orlando looked to Isla, and she realized he was only unsure because he figured his brother would want to be having sex with her when he got back, not discussing the contracts of whatever poor company was being taken over.

"Maybe I'll come back later. He must've forgotten our appointment."

"If it's important work, you should stay. I'll prepare you some coffee," Martina said.

Isla wanted to tell him to not feel unwelcome in his brother's home on account of her, but part of her didn't want Orlando speaking with Arturo about another company takeover either.

Even the nice Calendri was still a shark searching for prey, it seemed. Everyone always said business wasn't personal, but according to a lot of the movies she had seen over the course of her life, that was what most of the people in the mafia said, too.

Nothing personal.

"Don't worry about it, Martina. It can wait until morning." Orlando looked back at Isla, and she nearly froze right on the spot. "It was nice to meet you."

"You, too," she said, and Orlando turned and let himself out of his brother's house.

Yeah, he definitely didn't look the same as he did in his pictures. The lack of a suit tended to do that to a person, but he was still so damned nice, even if what he did for a living sucked.

Why couldn't he be the one she met with to ask for her family’s business back? He looked like he would hand it over to her in a second.

Or, at the very least, it would be easier to convince a guy like that to have mercy on her.

All the same, Orlando was nice enough, and easy on the eyes as far as his looks went, but Arturo was still definitely the older, more handsome brother.

She wondered if she would be meeting the last Calendri brother tonight as well. She needed to get upstairs and onto her iPad so she could look up all the pictures again.

The last thing she needed was to get up in the face of another Calendri without recognizing him.

Author Notes: Hey, so because Tapas has a character limit on chapters, and I guess Chapter 9 was super huge, so the last two and a half thousand characters had to be copied and pasted to this chapter here. It's not ideal for the flow of the story but there's nothing I can really do about it.

Anyway! Thanks so much for reading :D If you haven't already added this book to your library or subscribed, please do that now. Those really help and they bring me closer to being able to use ads and tips ;)

Hugs and happy reading! See you next Friday!