Why should her past matter? You haven’t exactly been a Boy Scout.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Antwan picked up his oversize coffee mug and took a swig. “I love Sharleen, and I think she’s a fantastic woman, but I could never date someone with more lovers than me. Call me sexist, but that’s just how I feel.”
“Then you won’t mind if I ask her out.”
Antwan’s face tensed, hardened into a dark, angry mask, but he spoke in a jovial tone. “Why would I? It’s a free world. You can date whoever you want.”
“I know, but I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us.”
Antwan scoffed. “Bad blood over a piece of ass? Man, please, I’m bigger than that.”
“This isn’t about sex.”
“Yes, it is. With you, it’s always about sex.”
“Not this time,” Emilio insisted. “Sharleen has been incredible the last few weeks, and I think she’s special.”
“Hooking up with her is nothing but a game to you. It’s all about the thrill of the chase, the adrenaline rush, and once you hit it you’ll be on to the next girl.”
Images of making love to Sharleen bombarded his mind. His heartbeat sped up, pounded in his ears, and an erection grew inside his pants. He was attracted to her, sure, but he wanted more than just a sexual relationship. They had a strong connection, a tight bond, and he suspected she was interested in him, too. The thought heartened him, made his chest puff up with pride. It wasn’t anything she’d said; it was the way she looked at him, how her eyes lit up when he “accidentally” touched her. Yesterday, after she’d left his estate, he’d sat down and planned the perfect date for her, and he was anxious to put his plan into action.
Emilio heard his cell phone buzz and knew his latest text message was from Francesca. He pulled out his phone.
We need to talk. I’ll drop by the house once I finish at the beauty salon.
Feeling heaviness in his chest, he wondered how much money his kid sister wanted this time. Every week she needed something—a flashier, more expensive car, spending money for a girls-only trip to Paris, to-die-for diamond earrings from Cartier—and her constant financial demands were weighing him down. The problem was he couldn’t say no to her. Not after what had happened to Lucca.
During one of their recent coaching sessions, Sharleen had said he was setting up Francesca to fail in the real word, and she’d encouraged him to cut the purse strings. But Emilio didn’t know if he could do it. He wanted his sister to be happy and didn’t want to do anything to ruin their relationship. He’d lost Immanuel, and he didn’t want to lose Francesca, too.
“Since you’re here, I might as well bring you up to speed about my video conference with Ferrari this morning.” Straightening to his full height, Antwan slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and smiled broadly. “They miss you, and they’re willing to pay seven figures to get you back behind the wheel of one of their race cars...”
Leaning back in his chair, Emilio suppressed a deep sigh. He didn’t want to talk about his career—he wanted to talk about Sharleen. Dozens of questions filled his mind, and the more he considered what Antwan had said the more confused he was. Was she serious about any of her other suitors? Was their “connection” just wishful thinking on his part?
“And that’s not all. Ferrari wants you to be their new spokesperson.”
Emilio surfaced from his thoughts. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t bother. They needed an answer right away, so I accepted on your behalf.”
“I didn’t agree to that.”
“It was the smart thing to do,” Antwan said tightly.
“For who? Me or your bank account?”
Antwan’s eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.
“The next time you pull a stunt like that, you’re fired.” Emilio clenched his teeth. “It’s my career, not yours. I do what I want, not what you tell me to do. Got it?”
The men stared each other down.
“I know you miss Lucca, but it’s time to move on. You’ve mourned him long enough.” Antwan wore a sympathetic face, but there was a bitter edge to his voice. “Ferrari is rolling out the red carpet for you, and if you thumb your nose at them, they’ll never work with you again.”
“You should have talked to me first, before you accepted the offer.”
“You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”
Despite himself, Emilio chuckled. “Right. Now say that with a straight face!”