Page 138 of Sins of the Orchid

I was Amore motherfucking Bennetti.

CHAPTER50

Amore

Getting situated in my new office at Regalè headquarters, I couldn't shake off the feeling that everything was off. I got acquainted with all the new personnel and hearing them speak English was a constant reminder that we were back. I’d got used to the office in Italy, their constant smiles, long coffee breaks. I could almost feel the corporate feel of the Regalè empire choking the creativity out of me.

It was the reason I thrived with Maria. I needed The Orchid even more than she did. It allowed me to do what Regalè didn’t. Be creative and enjoy every second of it. It was the reason Maria was the only viable candidate for a partner when I came up with the idea. She had nurtured it all these years.

“Miss Regalè,” the woman’s voice came from the intercom. I gritted my teeth. It was another thing that bothered me. They kept calling me Regalè instead of Bennetti. In Italy, I was Miss Bennetti. Here, I was Regalè. How in the hell were you supposed to get used to your last name if it kept changing?

“I’ll be right there,” I responded.

“You might want to stop growling,” DeAngelo joked, and I glared at him. His eyes shone with amusement. “You’ve been cranky,” he remarked.

“I just wish everything was over with,” I muttered under my breath as we turned into the hallway. We’d left my office and were walking to the corner of the floor where my grandmother’s office was. “And this… This was something that has been drilled into me for so long and now, I just feel…” I sighed heavily. “I just don’t want to be here,” I finally admitted. “I don’t want to do this.”

DeAngelo’s gaze darted my way. “Do what? Regalè Fashion House? Live in New York? Your side business? Hunt for George Anderson? The problem is that you’re doing too much.” Well, he might have a point now. “You realize you’ll have to take over the cartel. It is the only way to eliminate the constant threats.”

I had no desire to run a cartel. Hustling wasn’t my thing. I knew nothing about the cartel, Cosa Nostra, nor those kinds ofbusinesses. I guess it would be something I’d worry about when the time came.

I seem to say that a lot lately, I thought wryly.

Just as we reached my grandmother’s office, my step faltered, and my heart stilled.

Santi Russo.

Why did that name cause such heartache and unparalleled thrill at the same time?

He stood there in his three-piece black suit, his hands in his pockets. It was as if the entire world ceased to exist and left me with the very man that sucked the oxygen out of my lungs, leaving me gasping for air and craving his love.

It pissed me the fuck off!

He looked like he was expecting me, waiting for me. I couldn’t help but compare it to the way I ran to him in Italy after not seeing him for two months. Such a contrast to the first reunion.

My eyes traveled over his body and unwanted desire rushed through my veins. He seemed older, harder, colder somehow. But just as devastatingly handsome. There had to be a way to kill it if I was to survive living in the same city as this man. He looked casual, uncaring except when you glanced up and saw the dark look in his eyes.

And it was directed at the man by my side. DeAngelo. He was always by my side. DeAngelo must have sensed the tension in the air because his eyes flicked curiously to Santi, then back to me.

I would have preferred to have had a warning that Santi was going to be here. I haven’t heard from Adriano all day, and suddenly, I found myself agitated that Santi Russo was the first Russo man I ran into in New York city.

“All good?” DeAngelo’s question was low, but I could tell by Santi’s burning gaze he heard it.

Frustration crept up my back. He had no right to look at DeAngelo that way. At this point, Santi Russo was nothing but a reluctant family friend.

I recalled all the times Santi acted downright psychotic and possessive. I used to find it thrilling and exciting. Now it irked me, and I hated him.

Then why is your heart racing?My mind mocked me, but I ignored it. I didn’t need this shit right now.

“Yes,” I muttered.

Santi’s eyes flickered with something dark, and agitation flashed across his face. He had no right to feel agitation. It was he who had shattered my heart into a thousand little pieces and changed me forever. I was done with his rejections.

Yet somehow, he still fascinated me, and if I didn’t keep my distance, I’d never make it out of this alive.

My hands felt clammy, and my heart twitched with a dull pain at seeing him. I couldn’t help it. I should move on; I wanted to move on. But my heart wanted Santi Russo and refused to beat for anyone else.

“Ah, Amore.” My grandmother’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Santi and I have to talk to you and DeAngelo.”