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I stalk a few feet closer, not yet making my presence known. It’s been a long time since I’ve been face to face with Bianca Amato. A long time indeed.
Will she be glad to see me? Or will she scowl in my direction?
I’ve fantasized about this meeting a thousand times.
Me.
Her.
Alone.
Every time ends with me fisting my hard cock until the raging thoughts of her subside.
Gino steps closer, leaning in to whisper something in her ear.
Fury grows.
I stride to the bar in the room’s corner, needing a drink before I approach her.
I imagined the words I would say to her when I saw her again. Now nothing seems right. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen the blush that bloomed on her cheeks every time I shot her a smile.
I wonder if I touch her cheek, if it would blossom with the pink I always admired so much. Would her heartbeat race? Would she want me to keep touching her?
Or would she turn me away like she never does in my dreams?
There’s only one way to find out.
“A whiskey sour,” I say to the bartender.
What? Did you think because I’m a pirate I’d order a rum? There are many misconceptions about a pirate in the 21st century.
I don’t have a wooden leg.
I don’t have a parrot that sits on my shoulder.
And I don’t say ‘argh’ whenever I get upset.
Times have changed, and piracy has evolved. I run a fleet of ships that intercept shipping vessels in the Indian Ocean and take what we want.
“Nice night,” a man says next to me.
I spin around to face Gino. “It is a nice night.”
For a kidnapping.
“I’m Gino Valucci.” He says his name in a way that implies he doesn’t recognize me.
I laugh. Quick and short. This motherfucker was touching my girl. I should punch him… again.
“Constantine Gold.”
Recognition dawns, and he looks me over, assessing me, judging whether I’m competition. He decides I am. Rightfully so. “What are you doing here?” I hear the fear in his voice, like he’s afraid I’ve come to stir the pot.
He has no idea.
“The whiskey of course,” is all I offer.
Gino frowns, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Costi?” the angel of my dreams says from behind me. I turn around in slow motion. It’s been ages since my eyes have landed on this beauty up close. “Is that you?” she asks.
“In the flesh.” I give a wide grin and take a sip of my whiskey.
Bianca’s green eyes grow larger as Gino positions himself next to her. That damn hand of his has landed on the small of her back again.
Red blurs my vision, but I shake the offending color away.
Fuck this shit.
I don’t let anyone know how enraged I am by his hand—the one that is coming close to being broken.
Memories engulf me as Bianca plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “It’s been ages.” She steps away with a strained smile, but her eyes devour me. “Daddy,” she calls over her shoulder, “look who’s here.”
Don moves closer, his eyes dawning with recognition. “Constantine, how are you?”
I shake his hand. “I’ve been good.”
Gino, obviously bored with our exchange, turns to Bianca. “Should we get a drink?”
Bianca’s sinful red lips tilt upward. “I have my eyes on a cannoli.”
Gino frowns, his eyes dropping over her body. “How about a plate of fruit? Gotta look perfect for that wedding dress.”
Bianca’s smile slips, and my anger explodes.
I step closer. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave here without getting one.”
Gino tugs Bianca closer to his side, as if that would ever stop me. “What are you even doing here?”
Bianca’s gaze narrows as she awaits my answer.
I straighten my tie, trying my best to ease the tension knotting my neck inside the collar of my dress shirt. “Business.”
Bianca blinks. “What kind of business?”
My eyes roam over her body, wanting more than anything to snatch her up and show her who she belongs to. And it’s definitely not that motherfucker with his hand on her back. “I’m acquiring something.”
“Acquiring what? Cannoli?”
Gino laughs. “Or whiskey?”
My gaze drifts over the high angles of Bianca’s cheekbones, across her pert nose, to her plump lips. “Precious artwork.” It’s not a lie, since she is a masterpiece.
She licks her lips, and I watch the action, mimicking it, my body hardening.
Gino clears his throat. “Well, I hope you have a lovely evening.”
He extends his hand to shake mine and I take it, squeezing firmer than considered polite.
“Have a great night, too.” But I’m not ready to leave just yet. I haven’t gotten what I’ve come to capture.
Bianca seems hesitant to step away from me, but Gino guides her over to a group of people standing in a semi-circle near the orchestra.
I glance over at the dessert buffet, eyeing the cannoli I plan on swiping for my princess tonight.
Don doesn’t budge as they leave. As soon as they’re across the ballroom, he turns to me.
