Page 2 of The Prices We Pay (Vittori Enterprises #1)

Luca

“ N eed anything before your meeting?”

“Dante,” I answer incredulously. “You’re my head of security, not my personal assistant. You don’t need to be running errands for me. That’s what I have Clara for.” I nod toward the office door.

Looking slightly dejected, Dante scratches at his beard. “All right, all right. I just hate not feeling useful.”

I swear, if I wasn’t so sure he could crush me where I stand, I would smack him upside his giant ass head .

From the moment I met him six years ago, I knew he was someone I needed to have on my team.

As a retired Navy SEAL, Dante has skills unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and those skills don’t just disappear.

They’re not something that can be locked away in a box deep inside of him simply because he’s retired.

No, they’re part of the very fiber of his being.

They’re a constant itch he needs to scratch.

The specific set of skills he was required to hone and perfect needed a purpose. Dante needs a purpose.

I saw it in his eyes that day all those years ago, just as I see it in front of me now.

Which is exactly why I recruited him to join my team and hired him to be my security detail.

He quickly proved to be an invaluable asset in both respects, and it only took a couple of months for me to make him my head of security.

When I took over as CEO after my father, Pascal Vittori, retired, one of the first things I did was make Dante head of all security at Vittori Enterprises .

“Heads don’t have to roll every minute of every day for you to be useful.” A small smile pulls at his lips. “Culo testardo.”

The small smile he was sporting turns into an immediate glare. He’s also been around Enzo, my father, and myself long enough to pick up on some Italian. “Takes one to fucking know one.”

Huffing out a laugh, I straighten out the papers on my desk just as Clara’s voice rings through the intercom on my desk phone. “Josephine Jenkins is here for your ten o’clock meeting, Sir.”

“You can send her in. Thanks, Clara.”

She has to be the one, because if I have to fill out one more customs form or look up one more tariff code, I’m going to blow my fucking brains out.

As a multibillion-dollar luxury goods conglomerate, Vittori Enterprises relies heavily on imports and exports of goods.

Hell, without it, the entire company would crumble at my feet.

Four weeks ago, when I found out the brokerage company I was outsourcing was shortcutting and incorrectly filling out forms, risking me millions of dollars in fines and fees, I fired them on the spot and have been attempting to do what I can in the meantime.

However, I have quite literally a thousand other things I need to be doing instead, both inside and outside Vittori Enterprises.

So, at the risk of being tempted to smother myself underneath a never-ending pile of customs forms, I decided to hire an in-house broker.

I’ve interviewed a dozen over the last two weeks, and they all seemed beyond utterly incompetent.

Josephine Jenkins has to be the one.

As if a stereotypical fifty-year-old paper-pushing broker—if the last six interviewees are any indication—is going to try to get the jump on us, Dante takes his usual spot behind me. Clara politely knocks on the door as she slowly pushes it open.

“Ms. Jenkins, Sir.” Clara steps to the side and sweeps her hand in my direction.

I freeze halfway out of my chair when I see the most breathtakingly stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my thirty-four years on this earth step through the door.

Fifty-year-old paper-pusher, she is not .

Dressed in emerald-green slacks that make her legs look a mile long, a pair of pointy black heels that I would gladly let walk all over me, and a white button-up shirt that shows the perfect amount of cleavage and the tattoos that cover her forearms, Josephine Jenkins looks like a siren ready to haunt my dreams.

Any other potential employer may care about so many visible tattoos showing in a professional workplace, but considering the fact that my best friend and COO are covered from head to toe with them, I have little room to talk.

She makes it all the way across my large office and to the front of my desk before Dante kicks the leg of my chair and coughs, prompting me to stand.

Do not look at her chest, Luca Vittori. Do. Not. Do. It.

In what feels like slow motion, I watch in rapt attention as she reaches her hand out. And instead of moving, I just stand there and stare at it.

Dante coughs from behind me.

Right. Hands. Shake .

I wrap my hand around hers, and I can’t help but notice how small her hand looks in mine.

My gaze finally meets hers, and it feels as if all the air is sucked out of the room. Even though I’ve only been in her presence for seconds, her gunmetal-blue eyes feel as if they have the ability to pierce my soul.

“Josephine Jenkins, nice to meet you, Mr. Vittori.”

I shake her hand a little longer than necessary, reveling in the feeling of her skin against mine. She raises a brow, and the corners of her full lips tip up in a smile.

Right. Interview. Broker. Focus.

Reluctantly, I drop her hand. “Please, call me Luca.” I gesture my hand toward one of the chairs in front of her.

“Please, sit.” I wait to take a seat until she does so.

Once we’re both sitting, Josephine looks from me to the giant man standing behind me.

“This is Dante DeLuca. He’s my head of security. ”

“Am I a threat?” she asks with a practically sinister smile.

I think you just might be.

Dante doesn’t speak—at least not around anyone who’s not me, Sebastian, or Enzo. Josephine looks back at me. “No threat, Ms. Jenkins. He’s just doing his job.”

“Josephine, please. But my friends call me Joe.”

“Josephine,” I answer, choosing the former, the name sounding like it was meant to fall from my lips. “Thank you for coming in today.”

She sits up a little straighter and sweeps her hair over her shoulders so the long black strands lay down her back, giving me an unobstructed view of her face.

There’s beauty, and then there’s… there’s her.

“I’m happy to be here.” She reaches for her bag and pulls out a small stack of papers she has clipped together. “When your assistant called me the other day, she mentioned that you were in desperate need of an in-house broker.”

Clearing my throat, I answer, “Yes, we were outsourcing, and let’s just say the firm I was using was less than impressive.

I’ve heard around town that you’re one of the best in the business.

” I quickly let my eyes graze her body, not even caring if it looks unprofessional. “And at such a young age too.”

She smiles softly. “Twenty-six isn’t all that young, Mr. Vittori. I’ve worked extremely hard over the last six years, and I can promise I’ve more than earned my reputation.”

“I don’t doubt it for a second, Josephine .”

“I gave your assistant—”

“Clara.”

“Right. I gave Clara all of my information and my contract. However, I know a man in your position is quite busy, so if you haven’t had a chance to look it over, I brought an extra copy. Should you agree to hire me, my current rate is listed within the contract.”

Reaching out, she hands me the small stack of papers. I purposefully let my fingers graze hers, and it has the same effect as when I shook her hand.

Not a fluke.

Shit.

I’ve already thoroughly reviewed her previous work history and background.

Her success truly speaks for itself. I knew she was talented; it’s the whole reason I asked Clara to set up an interview.

After so many lackluster candidates, I reached out to some friends, and she did, in fact, come highly recommended. I just had no idea she was so young.

Staying on task, I quickly flip through the first two pages—her resume and references—as I already know what they entail and graze the first page of her contract.

When my eye lands on a number, I raise a brow and place the papers back on my desk. Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on the overpriced marble desktop and clasp my hands in front of me.

“You’re asking for twelve percent commission per tariffed good.” It’s a statement, not a question. One that I want to see if she’ll correct me on. While I can more than afford to pay that percentage, I want to see just how far Ms. Jenkins is willing to bend.

“Yes. That is my current rate. And for the size of this business, the amount of work I’m going to have to do daily, and what I’m assuming is a decent amount of backlog work, I feel that is more than fair.”

If she’s nervous, she’s doing a good job of hiding it. The normal person wouldn’t be able to tell. However, I’m no normal person. The pulse in her neck is beating at a faster pace. The slight part in her lips tells me she’s trying to gasp for more air. And she hasn’t blinked in forty-five seconds.

I don’t blame her, though. This contract would change her life, especially with a twelve percent commission rate.

“I can do eight percent. The price tag on the luxury goods we move daily would still result in a hefty commission for you.”

Josephine holds firm. “Twelve percent. With the price tag on the luxury goods you import and export daily, you would think you would want the job done correctly.”

She may be smiling, but there’s not an ounce of softness behind it.

I fight to hide the smile tugging at my lips.

“Best I can do is ten. ”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to subject yourself to another interview.” She reaches for her bag and stands. “Have a nice day.” Not hesitating for a moment, she spins and walks toward the door.

Brava ragazza.

I quickly look up at Dante behind me, who has his hand over his mouth, hiding a rare smile. He widens his eyes at me and nods toward Josephine, who’s now about two feet from the door. I wink at Dante and quickly stand from my chair.

“Josephine.” Her pointed Louboutin stops in its tracks, and she spins to face me.

I round my desk, and in a few long strides, I’m in front of her. She’s a tall woman, standing at around 5’11 with heels on, but I tower over her at 6’5. She looks up at me through dark lashes and answers softly, “Mr. Vittori.”

“Twelve percent.” I reach out in the small space between us to shake her hand. “I couldn’t possibly sit through another interview anyway.”

She huffs out a light laugh and wraps her hand in mine once more. “You have yourself a deal.” She drops my hand first and takes a step back. “ I’m assuming Clara can get me set up with the necessary paperwork?”

“She can.”

“Perfect. I can start right away, so I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Perfect,” I echo.

“Have a good day, Mr. Vittori.” She looks around me, and her smile only grows. “You too, Dante.”

And just as she did when she entered my office, she takes all of the air with her when she spins on her heels and walks away.

Perfect.