Chapter One Hundred and Two
Gen’s eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Matteo. He was already watching her and based on the way he flinched, he could tell she’d figured it out. She turned her back on him.
“Fucking asshole. I’ll fucking show him later just what I think of him fucking…”
“Blyat, you have a mouth on you,” a heavily accented voice said next to her.
Gen glanced beside her to see a very tall, handsome man leaning over the bar to get the bartender’s attention. Gen was struck by his beauty: tall, caramel skin with piercing blue eyes that made his chestnut hair stand out. He had a hanging scar along his neck but rather than make him look scary, it turned his looks from boyishly handsome to rugged and mysterious.
“Excuse me?”
Those eyes turned to her and she shivered at the intensity she saw there. “Your mouth. It’s filthy.”
“It has good reason to be,” she said, still irritated and hoping Matteo was watching her.
“What is it you do?” he asked, his Russian accent making his words sound halting and abrasive.
“I’m an accountant.”
His eyebrows rose to his hairline. “Is that so? I find myself in need of one of those. Who do you work for?”
“Accardi.”
His brows rose impossibly higher. “Quite a resume.”
“I didn’t realize a single name was considered a resume.”
“At this event it is.”
“Sergei,” Frankie suddenly said behind Gen’s shoulder.
Sergei gave Frankie a passive glance before deeming him unworthy of a second more of his time. “Donati.”
“What are you doing here, Frankie? I thought you were with Accardi,” Gen said, hoping her irritation leached through her words.
“He sent me over to make sure you were okay.”
“She’s fine, thank you,” Sergei answered for her, clinking his glass against hers.
“What are you doing state side, Sergei?” Frankie asked.
Sergei sighed long as if Frankie was ruining his evening. “I’ve come to collect my fiance.”
“Ah, is she finally of age?”
“She’s turning eighteen in a month, yes,” Sergei responded.
Gen scrunched her nose in disgust. “You’re engaged to a seventeen year old?”
Sergei gave her an appraising look. “We’ve been betrothed since she was born. A business deal made at this very event by my father and hers. It’s not so uncommon Miss…”
“Sinclair,” Gen said, holding out her hand. “You can call me…”
“Nothing,” Frankie interjected, putting himself between the two of them.
“Frankie.”
“No.” His voice was filled with a dangerous warning.
“Don’t worry, Donati. I was merely curious about her accounting services. Once I have Gloria again I’ll not have a need for…”
“Gloria?”
Sergei sighed again, clearly irritated with Frankie interrupting them. “Yes, Gloria Rubanov. Ivan Rubanov’s daughter.”
Gen noticed Frankie’s shoulders tighten even further. His fists clenched to the point where his knuckles turned pale white.
“You’re engaged to Gloria Rubanov?”
Sergei looked over Frankie’s shoulder to Gen. “Is he slow?”
“Not usually. I don’t know what his problem is,” Gen answered honestly.
Sergei’s phone rang. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “It was nice speaking with you, Miss Sinclair. I look forward to the bidding. If you’ll excuse me.”
Frankie’s head slowly ticked to keep his eyes locked on Sergei as he waded through the crowd and answered his phone.
“Frankie, are you okay?”
“Fine. I’ll be right back,” he said before walking the same path Sergei had just sauntered off in.
Gen looked back at the bar to find Maisy talking with a handsome red head who had one palm on the bar as he leaned over her. She sighed and took another gulp of her tequila.
“Lovely night, isn’t it?” A male voice said behind her.
She inhaled slowly and prepared herself for the next suitor. She turned and spied a man who reminded her a lot of Paul: the same blond hair, aquamarine eyes. He took the stool beside her and set his drink down.
“It’s nice to finally meet you Miss Sinclair,” the stranger said.
“It appears you’ve caught me at a disadvantage. You know my name yet I don’t know yours.”
“Paul told me all about you,” he said, his smile splitting his cheeks.
The hair on her arm stood on end. “You knew Paul?”
“He died right in front of me,” the man confirmed. “I would love to talk to you about your employer. Get some insight into what makes him tick. As you’re here I’m assuming you’re…” His eyes wandered down the slit of her cleavage. “Services are available for purchase.”
Gen’s hackles rose and if she were a wild animal she would have lunged for his jugular. “Afraid not.”
“You understand how this event works, don’t you? I make a proposition, we talk logistics, you accept, I bet on you and if I win… I get you for as long as I need you,” the stranger explained.
“I’m not for sale,” she hissed. She went to stand up when his hand locked around her wrist. She gasped as pain radiated up her arm. Her eyes locked with his manic ones. “Let go,” she ordered.
“You heard her,” Matteo growled beside her. “Or shall I remind you what I did to the last man who touched what was mine?”
The stranger’s face turned from angry earnestness to soft and submissive. His hand left Gen’s wrist and he turned to face an enraged Matteo.
“Accardi, we were just talking about you,” the stranger said smoothly.
“How did you even get in here, Guerra?” Matteo asked, stepping closer to Gen with a possessive gesture.
“I was invited, of course. I’ve made quite a few waves this year. People have clearly taken notice,” he said with a wink to Gen. “Your tribute and I were just about to go for a walk to discuss what she could do for my family.”
“Miss Sinclair is not up for auction tonight,” Matteo hissed, taking another step closer to her and discreetly shielding her from the man.
“Hmm,” Guerra’s eyes went to Gen’s left hand. “It being my first time here, I’ve been recited the rules many times. The rules state that if a woman isn’t married, she’s up for grabs. I don’t see a ring, Mr. Accardi.”
“My family started this event three generations ago. The rules don’t apply to me,” Matteo said, subtly pulling a handgun from his waistband. Guerra’s eyes went to the gun. Gen noticed his pupils widen before he schooled his expression and looked up with annoyance. “Besides, the rules also state that a woman must accept your proposition.” Matteo turned to glance at Gen. “Did you accept, Miss Sinclair?”
“No,” she said, glaring more at Matteo than the man who had propositioned her.
“There you have it,” Matteo said, closing the conversation by turning his back on Guerra.
“I’m sure we’ll get a chance to talk later, Miss Sinclair,” Guerra said cryptically before disappearing into the crowd.