Home > Never Dare A Tycoon (The Attracelli Family #1)(5)

Never Dare A Tycoon (The Attracelli Family #1)(5)
Author: Elizabeth Lennox

Antonia’s whole body jerked at the anger in his voice. She turned back to look at him. A move she shouldn’t have done in retrospect.

“I’m asking you one more time, move back into the house,” he said.

Trembling, she could only shake her head. Now she understood why his employees avoided incurring his wrath. It was formidable.

Antonia forced her feet to move. Slowly, with as much dignity as possible, she walked out of the elegant restaurant.

She made it all the way to the street before she caved in to the desire to cry. She’d just declared war with her oldest brother. And in doing so, all the others would follow. Especially once they found out she had been lying to them all along.

She walked around the corner with her head held high. But as soon as the building hid her from view, she leaned against the concrete wall and bowed her head.

None of her brothers would allow her to keep her job. Even if it had been a regular waitressing job, they wouldn’t have been pleased. But when they found out where she worked, they would be livid. Somehow, some way, Sal would force her to be fired. She didn’t know how, but he had powerful friends everywhere.

She had made it down the street and was leaning against her motorcycle when a strong, gentle arm came by and pulled her close. She couldn’t see through the tears but she assumed it was Sal. She let him put her into a car, then closed the door for her.

She heard the driver’s side door close, then took the proffered handkerchief. “Thank you,” she said. She wiped her eyes and tried to pull herself together.

She turned to face Sal, hoping she could make him see her side.

“You!” she said, seeing for the first time that it was the gorgeous stranger who sat across from her during lunch and not her brother. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Taking you to a bar,” Brett said. “You look like you need a drink.” He deftly turned the corner then stopped the car.

He immediately got out of the car, handing his keys to the valet, then came around to the other side to open her door.

“Thank you,” she said, taking his hand as he helped her out of the car. She wished he was someone else – anyone but him. For some reason, she didn’t want him to see her crying.

“Look,” she started, “this is kind of you, but it really isn’t necessary,” she said, stopping in front of the dark wood and brass doors of an elegant bar.

Brett ignored her and put a hand in the small of her back to guide her inside. “The least you can do is have a drink with me since I had to cancel my three thirty meeting because of you.”

“Because of me?” she sputtered. “What did I do?”

“You were late for lunch,” he explained and held out two fingers to the hostess.

“And that made you cancel your afternoon meetings?” she said, following him despite her desire to walk out on him.

They were immediately led to a table near the front window. “Yes,” he said and pulled out the chair for her, looking her straight in the eye, daring her on her next move.

Antonia looked around. The bar was almost empty except for them. She wanted to walk out, but the years of good manners beaten into her by her mother and nanny wouldn’t let her. She carefully sat down in the chair he was still patiently holding.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” he answered, smiling as he came around to the other side of the table and seated himself.

The waiter appeared to take their order and Brett answered, “A glass of white wine for the lady and a martini straight up for me,” he said.

Antonia gritted her teeth. Turning to the waiter, she smiled and said, “I’ll have a Corona. Thanks,” she said, asking for an imported Mexican beer instead of the lady-like white wine.

Brett didn’t say anything, just nodded to the waiter as he left. “What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as the waiter walked away.

“Nothing,” she said, handing him back the handkerchief. She wished her eyes didn’t stare but she was transfixed by his broad, muscular shoulders as he pulled at his tie, loosening the knot slightly.

Brett leaned back against the dark wood of the wall. “Ok, so you always lean against someone’s motorcycle and cry. That’s reasonable. I guess a lot of other people do that,” he said, his sensuous mouth curling in a slight smile. “What did you and your brother talk about after we left?”

“That’s personal,” she said, leaning back and crossing her legs. For some reason, she didn’t like him. What’s more, she hated the fact that she couldn’t remember his name.

“Fair enough,” he laughed. “How about the Redskins? Think they’ll make it to the playoffs this year?”

Her heartbeat accelerated when he laughed. He even had a gorgeous smile, dammit! “No,” she said, accepting the change of subject. “They don’t have a good enough defensive line this year, and their quarterback struggle still isn’t over,” she said and raised her eyebrows, waiting for his next volley.

Brett tried to hide his shock at her answer. This tiny woman with the sexiest legs he’d seen ever seen didn’t appear to be the type that even knew what sport the Redskins played, much less their chances for a winning season.

“The Mystics will have a better chance next year, if they can get the first round draft pick,” Antonia continued. “But other than that, sports in Washington is at a standstill until the Caps start up again.”

With that statement, Brett’s shock couldn’t be hidden. Most people in the area didn’t even know that there was a professional women’s basketball team in the Washington, D.C. area. But this gorgeous, classy lady even knew that they’d lost so many games during the last season, the team was up for a first round, overall draft pick. Very impressive, he thought.

“Do you think it will do any good?” he asked wondering if she’d just heard someone else say that, perhaps one of her brothers.

“No. I think New York will cheat them out of the draft pick somehow. We’ll have to see. Only a few more weeks until the suspense is over,” she said, smiling cheekily.

Completely blown away because she even knew that the WNBA started draft picks at the end of the month, Brett leaned forward. “Who are you?” he asked.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and Antonia took her beer and took a long swallow, ignoring the frosted glass sitting next to the bottle with a lime stuck in it. “No one important,” she replied.

   
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