The Truth About De Campo(3)
“Si. Most recently Dairy Delight. Warren is hoping her experience in the food sector will help revive Luxe’s restaurants. They’ve been on a slow decline for years.”
“Dairy Delight? They sell ice cream and burgers. How’s that going to help bring Michelin three-star restaurants back to life?”
Riccardo shot him a warning look. “Do not underestimate her, Matty. Apparently she’s a chip off the old block.”
Yes, but she was a female. He’d never met one he couldn’t have. If he was on his game, she’d be in the palm of his hand before he’d finished his first cocktail. His mouth tightened. He intended to be more than on his game. All over his game was more like it. Which didn’t mean he would underestimate her. Women were like sleeping bears. All soft and cuddly until you awakened their inner beast. Which was precisely why you didn’t go there.
He closed the folder. “Who’s going?”
“You are.”
He did a double take. “With you and Gabe?”
“I need to be in San Francisco for the restaurant opening and Gabe is in way over his head with the harvest right now. I can’t pull him away.”
A surge of anticipation fired through him. Finally he was back in the game. The deal was his to win.
Riccardo kept his gaze steady on him. “This is the most important contract we’ve negotiated in the history of De Campo. We win this, we enter a different stratosphere. You need to bring it home, Matty.”
“Done.”
His brother’s eyes flickered at the belligerently confident note in his voice. Mistrust. It was still there.
His shoulders shot to his ears, blood pumped so rapidly into his head he thought it would explode. “Do not say it,” he bit out. “Do not say it.”
“What happened with Angelique Fontaine can’t happen again, Matty.”
The liquid fire burning in his head became an all-consuming force that blurred his vision. He swung away and sucked in a deep breath. Then another. Fisted his hands by his sides until they numbed into a lifeless mass. “How long,” he demanded hoarsely, “are you going to crucify me with that?”
“Bring me Luxe,” his brother said deliberately, “and we’re even.”
Matteo bowed his head. Flexed his frozen appendages until the blood streamed back into his fingers. When he looked up, he sought, demanded an honest answer from his brother. “Why me? You could make time for this, Riccardo.”
His brother rested that deadly sharp gaze of his on Matteo. “Because you are the only one who can win this. Quinn Davis is a man-hater. She will detest me on sight. Gabe could do it, but you are better. Not only do you have the charm but when you’re on, Matty, you light up a room. You are electric.”
He exhaled the breath lodged deep inside his chest. “Luxe is ours. I promise you that.”
Riccardo nodded. “Absorb what Paige has put together and let me know if you have any questions.”
Matteo tucked the file under his arm and headed for the door. His brain was already formulating his approach when Riccardo’s low drawl reached him. “Matty?” He turned around. “I meant what I said. You are not, under any circumstances, to sleep with Quinn Davis.”
All creativity fled. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his teeth clenching down so tight he thought they might shatter. “I heard you the first time. It can’t happen. It won’t happen. And I’m getting a little pissed you’d think I’d even go there.”
Riccardo shrugged. “You’re a complete wild card lately, Matty. They could announce the next shuttle expedition to the moon and I wouldn’t be surprised to see your name on the list.”
His insides tightened. “You know what I was going through. Why that happened with Angelique...”
His brother’s gaze hardened into impenetrable steel. “It was a seven-million-dollar deal, Matty.”
And he had brought it down like a house of cards.
He gritted his teeth. “I will win this deal for De Campo. That’s all you need to be sure about.”
His brother nodded.
Matteo stalked to the door. Sure he was going to charm Quinn Davis. Riccardo wanted to win. How did he think he was going to win? But sleep with her? Did his brother really think he wanted another two years in purgatory?
Damn. He needed a cold beer.
His mood hadn’t improved by the time he was home at his new Meatpacking District loft, a bottle of said cold beer in his hand on the patio. Kicking back in a lounge chair, he devoured the file Riccardo’s PA had compiled. Paige had been her usual ridiculously thorough self. It contained everything he ever needed to know about the Davis family and more. And photos. It did not escape him why his brother had warned him off Quinn Davis. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was knock-your-socks-off stunning.