Page 13 of The Prices We Pay (Vittori Enterprises #1)

Josephine

T his date has blown so much ass it’s not even funny.

I downloaded an old dating app the other night on a whim, probably something to do with the fact that I’ve been obsessively gawking at the four completely undatable men that I work with, and it took all of thirty minutes for me to match with Kassidy here.

She’s a stunning, leggy blonde. Bright green eyes and full lips that accentuate her sculpted cheekbones.

She has a deliciously toned body with curves I could sink my teeth into.

Objectively… she’s fucking stunning .

Kassidy’s profile stated that she was a business owner who had started her own interior design firm. Regardless of our careers being wildly different, I figured her having her own business would give us some common ground.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t looking for some crazy love connection. I really just wanted to get laid and scratch the metaphorical itch, if you will.

But Jesus fucking Christ. If she mentions her “Daddy’s” beach house one more time, I’m going to barf all over my brand-new dress.

It’s simple—black satin with thin spaghetti straps that stop just below my ass.

Nothing special, really. But it hugs my curves in all the right places, and I feel like an absolute fucking smoke show.

Not to mention, it’s the perfect dress for a club.

That’s the other thing; I should have used my brain and recognized that her wanting to meet me for the first time at one of the city’s busiest nightclubs on a Saturday night was a red flag.

I mean, who does that? You can’t even hear the other person talk .

Actually, that’s currently working in my favor, so I might have to take that one back because now she’s rambling about the trip she took to the Maldives with a bunch of her friends, and they all got into a fight while they were there because one of the girls posted a picture that the other one wanted to post. Because god fucking forbid, we all post the same picture.

This is why I haven’t dated in years.

One would think that liking both men and women means that I have double the dating pool and there would be some decent people to choose from.

No.

Nope.

Wrong.

An orgasm isn’t worth this. I’d rather just give myself one.

Just as I’m about to pull my phone from my clutch and sneakily order myself an Uber, Kassidy asks, “Hey, do you know those guys? They’ve been staring at you for a few minutes now, and it’s starting to get kind of creepy. ”

I steel my spine, preparing for the worst when she gasps, squeals, and claps—in that order. “Oh, my god. Is that Luca Vittori?” A sigh of relief leaves me in a rush. “He’s like a gazillionaire. Do you know him? Please tell me you know him!”

Wait. Why is Luca here?

Shit. She said guys.

Slowly turning from my spot at the high-top table, I find Luca, Enzo, Dante, and Sebastian all glaring daggers at me from across the club.

They’re sitting in a roped-off VIP section with a man who rivals Sebastian in the walking, talking Ken doll department.

His honey-blonde hair looks like he spent hours on it, and yet, no time at all.

He’s wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt sans the tie, and the top two buttons are undone.

His muscular arm is protectively draped around the woman sitting next to him.

She has a head of curly brown hair and pale skin, and her full figure fills out the gold dress she has on to perfection.

Next to her are two more men. Both of them have jet-black hair, but while one’s is perfectly kempt, the other’s lies wild and unruly.

One of them is dressed to the nines in a three-piece suit.

He has rings adorning several of his fingers and tattoos covering the backs of his hands that likely go all the way up his arm and lead to the ones poking out of the collar of his dress shirt.

The other is wearing black ripped denim jeans, a dark gray Henley, and biker boots.

The lights from the club reflect off the silver hoop he has in his nose.

Aesthetically, they couldn’t look more different.

But one quick look at their matching sharp jawlines moving up and down as they bicker at one another, their raven-colored hair, and the shape of their blue eyes—albeit different shades—leads me to believe they’re related. I’d even put money on the fact that they're brothers.

The one with the nose ring has his hand wrapped around the woman’s thigh, and the one in the suit has his hand stretched out behind his brother, the tips of his fingers drawing soft circles on her shoulder.

While they’re not blatant signs of affection, their soft caresses make it clear that each of them has a romantic relationship with her.

You go, girl .

However, no matter how much I want to sit here and observe what is probably a lot of women’s dream come true, my eyes stray back to the men who have their glares locked on me and Kassidy.

Actually, let me rephrase that. Luca and Dante are wholly glaring, while Enzo’s eyes are narrowed in the most mischievous way, and Sebastian… just looks intrigued. The way he’s so clearly studying me, trying to learn everything he can just by watching, is unnerving .

“Josephine?” Kassidy bites out more urgently this time.

I turn from the guys to face her, but I can still feel each of their stares on my back. “Yes,” I sigh. “I know them. That’s where I work. Vittori Enterprises.”

Kassidy’s jaw practically hits the high-top table. “Shut. Up. Let’s go over there! Introduce me.”

Absolutely not. No fucking way am I taking her over there.

One word out of her mouth, and Luca might literally fire me just for associating with someone so shallow.

I can’t say that to her, though. No matter how much I want to.

“Ummm. It looks like they’re here with some friends.

I don’t want to bother them outside of work. ”

She scoffs and downs the rest of her Cosmopolitan.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She grabs at the front of her dress and readjusts her breasts.

Once she’s finally pleased with her cleavage, she raises her hands and wiggles her fingers at them in a wave.

The way her eyes lock onto them lets me know I’ve officially been placed on the back burner, which, in any other situation, I would welcome the demotion, but knowing who she’s refocused her attention on puts me on edge.

They’re not mine, but… I don’t want her to want them.

“One of them is coming over here!” she exclaims in a hushed tone as she sits up a little straighter and puffs out her chest.

Before I have a chance to ask which one, I already know the answer. I sense him before I feel him. There’s electricity in the air, just like there was that day in the lobby. And when the rich smell of nutmeg and amber hits my nose, I know my assumptions are right .

Lorenzo.

He comes to a stop behind me, his palm gently wrapping around my arm just above my elbow. Softly, he slides his grip up my arm and over my shoulder, stopping at the slope of my neck. I briefly register Kassidy’s eyes widening, but I’m too lost in the way my body responds to his touch.

Again.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His soft Italian accent washes over me like a cool rain on a summer’s day, instantly relaxing me.

Garnering the courage, I tilt my head to look up at him, his sage green eyes signaling me to go along with whatever plan he has cooking up. “Hey, Enz,” I answer softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here tonight? I would have picked you up.”

Unsure where he’s going with this or how to respond, I mumble, “Ummm…”

He sighs dramatically. “I know we had a bit of an argument this morning, but showing up to our friend’s club with some hussy isn’t going to solve anything. ”

His friend’s club? A fight? Hussy?

Kassidy scoffs indigently, her flirtatious and available facade rapidly disappearing. “Excuse me? Just who do you think you’re calling a hussy?”

Enzo merely looks her up and down as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?” before looking back at me. “Come back to the table with me?”

“I—I’m here with Kassidy.” I don’t want to stay here with her.

Not even a little bit. But the way he’s taking control of his situation—the way it feels like he’s looking through my eyes and directly into my soul—is throwing me off kilter.

Not to mention that the table he speaks of is currently seating the three other men who seem to have the same effect on me.

I’m not a woman who is easily thrown off balance, but something about each of them constantly makes me feel like I’m teetering on the edge. Ready to freefall at any moment.

“Sweetheart.” He points his thumb in Kassidy’s direction, not sparing her another glance. “We both know that Kassandra here—”

“Ugh. It’s Kassidy,” she blanches.

“Whatever. We both know she isn’t worth your time.” Enzo slides his hand up the nape of my neck until he’s cupping my jaw. In what feels like slow motion, he bends down and places a featherlight kiss against my parted lips, his eyes never once leaving mine.

It’s the faintest of kisses. I’m not sure you could even call it a kiss, considering I don’t reciprocate in the slightest—too stunned at the fact that his lips are touching mine—and it doesn’t last but a mere moment.

Yet, the effect it has on me is cataclysmic.

It rocks me to my very core. Shattering me apart and putting me back together in perfect unison.

“I’m sorry. Come back to me, Sweetheart,” he whispers against my lips.

I can’t even look at Kassidy. I don’t want to.

I want all my attention to be on the man before me.

Enzo straightens, holding his hand out to me.

My eyes catch on the ring around his pinky, the black metal matching the chain he wears around his neck.

Silently, I grab my clutch from the table and take his outstretched hand .

“Josie!” She’s been calling me that all night, and it’s been driving me fucking nuts. Not once did I give her any indication that that was my name or an acceptable variation of it.

But before I have a chance to correct her, Enzo snaps, “Her name is Josephine. Not that it matters to you any longer. Goodnight, Kasey.”

With my hand wrapped in his, Enzo pulls me toward the booth where the rest of the guys are sitting.

I don’t spare Kassidy a backward glance.

I know that may make me a shitty person, bringing a date here and then ditching her for my not-so-ex boyfriend, pretend or not. But I can’t find it in myself to care.

Because the fact of the matter is that Lorenzo Santoro’s lips were on mine. And I want it to happen over and over again.