Page 3 of His to Win

Listening to Gabriella Bianche talk and seeing the passion on her face as she expounds on the importance of helping small businesses tells me a few things. One, she’s an intelligent woman who has a good head on her shoulders when it comes to business. Two, she cares about people and helping them. And, three, I’d like to reach across the table, drag her over to me and see what else she’s passionate about.

The sad truth is, it’s been a long time since a woman has caught my eye and captivated me so thoroughly. I’ve seen Gabriella at every meeting this past month and, I don’t think it’s my imagination, but our flirting is growing more intense. Of course, we’re subtle about it. We have to be. The Rossi’s and the Bianche’s have a fucked-up history and have never gotten along very well.

I think I could get along quite well with Gabriella, though. Every time I look at her, I imagine taking her in my arms and kissing her. Wondering what it would feel like to have all those luscious curves pressed against me. I want to know how she tastes and feels, what she smells like. The sounds that she would make when she comes on my cock.

Shit. Being hard nearly the entire meeting is starting to get really old, really fast. I need to do something about my growing obsession…and poor, very lonely dick.

I know her family is nothing but trouble and they can’t be trusted. Especially after what happened between Miceli and Rocco. The logical part of my brain knows I should stay far away from her. However, the lower half of my body isn’t on board with that. She’s a temptation I don’t want to resist—absolutely stunning with long, dark hair and the most striking caramel eyes. When the light hits them just right, I swear they look like melted toffee. More than that, though, I love how fierce she can be, always standing up for herself and constantly dishing it back to her cousins who never stick up for her. They’re idiots and I feel bad she has to deal with them, but to see her in action, making them look like the fools they are? It’s magnificent. Instant hard-on.

Other than our limited interactions in meeting with the other members of the Five Families, Gabriella is a complete stranger. One who I want to get to know better. I think it might be becoming more obvious to others, especially my brothers, that I can’t seem to drag my attention off her. And it’s only getting worse.

After the meeting ends, I walk outside with my brothers. We can be a rowdy group and right now they’re teasing me about Gabriella because they’re a bunch of dicks.

Angelo nudges me with his elbow. “What’s going on with you and Miss Bianche?”

“Nothing,” I immediately answer. My younger brother is a player who has never had a serious girlfriend in his life. Although, I shouldn’t judge him too harshly because neither have I. Not really, anyway. I tend to keep things light and casual, and I’ll usually see a woman—translation, sleep with a woman—until she pressures me for more. Then I’m out and disappear quicker than a thief in the night. I don’t have time for all that. And, even though I make that abundantly clear in the beginning, some women think they’re special and believe they can change me.

Well, I don’t want to change. I love working and, other than my immediate family, my job is the most important thing in my life. Maybe one day that will change and I’ll turn my attention to marriage and a family but, honestly, I doubt it. Even though I see how happy Miceli and Vin are with their wives, I know keeping a woman happy is a lot of fucking work. And not the kind of work I generally enjoy.

“She couldn’t keep her eyes off you, Enzo. Anything we should know?”

I glance over at Miceli and frown. “Just that I’m going back to the office to make more investments that’ll make you guys even richer.” I handle all of my family’s investment portfolios and they have more riches than King Midas. “Besides, we all know the Bianches are trouble.”

“That’s an understatement,” Miceli growls.

Vin snorts. “Understatement of the year. Anyway, back to Ms. Bianche…”

“Oh, for chrissake, drop it, will you? I’ve never spoken to her outside of our meetings.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I spot Gabriella leaning against her black Dodge Hellcat, arms and ankles crossed, watching me closely. I’m not sure what’s sexier—her or the car. Yeah, right. Gabriella looks sleeker than the shiny machine her perfect ass rests against. So sexy, in fact, that I draw in a deep, slightly shaky breath, unable to tear my gaze off her.

“Well, well, well,” Angelo purrs. “Looks like somebody is waiting for you.”

“Fuck off, Ang,” I murmur and grin like an idiot.

“Go get her, bro.”

“See you guys later,” I say and they chuckle. I ignore them and stride over to where the lovely Ms. Bianche patiently waits. Usually, I have a suave line all ready to go but, for whatever reason, my tongue suddenly ties up and all I can do is stare into her caramel-soaked eyes. I don’t ever get nervous and I’ve spoken with some of the most important businessmen and businesswomen in the world. I’ve lunched on yachts with royalty, been invited to movie premieres and hobnobbed with Hollywood bigwigs, and even attended a benefit dinner with the President of the United States. I’ve had deep conversations with some of this century’s most brilliant minds and never been at a loss for words.

Yet, Gabriella Bianche leaves me at a complete loss and I struggle to force out a simple hello. Her mouth edges up, seemingly amused.

Holy shit. A light bulb seems to go off in my head and it hits me hard—I’m infatuated with her.

“I wanted to thank you,” she says. “It isn’t often people stick up for me like you did in there.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, noticing the way her hair glints in the sunlight. “I really was interested in what you had to say. I think supporting small businesses is important, too.”

Her smile widens. “Really? That’s interesting. I thought you were a shark.”

“I can be,” I admit, moving closer and catching a whiff of her perfume on the breeze. It’s sensual, honey-scented, and my entire body responds. The urge to get to know her better fills me. “Gabriella,” I murmur, testing her name on my tongue, not even meaning to do it aloud.

“Yes?” She cocks a playful brow.

I clear my throat. “Is that what everyone calls you? Or, do you go by a nickname?”

“Everyone calls me Gabriella. Although my dad used to call me Bri.”

I know her father died and I nod. “You were close with him?” She nods, not offering any more information. “Bri fits you.”

“Does it?” she asks coyly.

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