Christmas At The Tycoon's Command

“Yes.”

He pressed another glass of wine into her hand. “Go.”

Chloe took a sip of the wine, sucked in a deep breath and started walking, forcing herself to trace a straight line toward the actor before she chickened out. The girls around him looked down their noses at her as she approached. Used to this treatment when she was with Mireille, Chloe ignored them, walked right up to Eddie and stuck out her hand. “Eddie, I’m Chloe Russo. My family and I own Evolution. I’d like to talk to you about a fragrance I’ve developed with you in mind.”

The actor swept his gaze over her dismissively, before he got to her legs, where he lingered. “Who did you say you are?” he queried absentmindedly.

Chloe repeated her spiel, refusing to give in to the knots tying themselves in her stomach.

Eddie lifted his slumberous dark gaze to hers. Flicked the girl off the stool beside him. “Have a seat.”

* * *

Nico pointed his car home, a brutally hard day of meetings behind him. A beer and the hot tub at his penthouse beckoned, but so did a phone call with his brothers at the end of the day. Old habits died hard, and checking in with Lazzero and Santo to make sure their world was upright was one of them.

It had been that way ever since their father’s company had imploded when Nico was a teenager, his father and his marriage along with it, leaving Nico as the last line of defense between his family and the street when his mother had walked out. When life as you’d known it had dissolved once beneath your feet, you made sure it never happened again.

He punched Lazzero’s cell into his hands-free. It rang five times before his brother picked up, the sound of music pulsing in the background.

“Sorry.” The music faded as Lazzero moved to a quieter spot. “It’s our Blaze launch tonight.”

Nico rubbed a palm against his temple. “Mi dispiace. I just walked out of my last meeting minutes ago.”

“No worries.” An amused note flavored his brother’s lazy drawl. “You didn’t tell me you were sending your little bird my way.”

“My little bird?”

“Chloe. She’s here chatting up Eddie Carello for some sponsorship deal.”

Nico blinked at the bright headlights of an oncoming car. “Chloe is there chatting up Eddie Carello?”

“And doing a pretty good job of it I might say. Must be the dress. I told her he likes legs.”

Nico brought his back teeth together. “Shut it down, Lazzero. You know better than that. She’s no match for him.”

More of that patented male amusement in his brother’s voice. “She looks like a match for him to me. She has his undivided attention at the moment.”

“Lazzero,” Nico growled. “Shut it down.”

“Gotta go,” his brother apologized. “A client just arrived. You should drop by.”

Nico swore a blue streak, yanked the steering wheel around and did an overtly illegal U-turn. Approaching celebrities was the PR department’s job. He was already feeling guilty about the board meeting and the necessarily harsh lesson he’d administered to Chloe. She was so vulnerable despite that sharp mouth of hers. But it had seemed to do the trick of jolting her out of that frozen state she’d been in, and for that, he’d considered it a success.

She did, however, need to be treated with kid gloves at the moment. She was the key to Evolution’s success. She had to believe she could take her mother’s place. But the question mark with Chloe had always been her confidence. Her belief in herself.

It didn’t seem to be lacking, however, as Nico strode into Di Fiore’s to find Lazzero romancing a tall blonde at the bar and Chloe doing the same with the most notorious womanizer in Hollywood.

Her dark hair shone loose around her lovely face, the champagne-colored dress she wore as she sat perched on the high stool highlighting every dip and curve of her slim, perfect figure. Her legs—and there was a lot of them—were a jaw-dropping, toned work of art. They made his mouth go dry.

And that was before he got to those gorgeous eyes of hers—dark rippling pools framed by the longest, most luxurious lashes he’d ever seen. Eyes that had once made him lose his common sense. He thought maybe she’d put about ten coats of mascara on.

Carello had one hand on his jean-clad thigh, the other around his drink, talking in an animated fashion while Chloe listened, her clear, bright laughter cutting through the din of the crowd. Nico’s mouth tightened as the actor slid his arm to the back of her stool and moved in closer.

Resisting the urge to walk over there and pluck her off the stool, he lifted his hand and signaled the bartender instead. The young hipster called out a greeting to him and slid his favorite dark ale across the bar.

“You thought that was a good idea?” he growled as Lazzero lost the blonde and ambled over.

His brother hiked a shoulder. “I’m not her babysitter. You are. How you found yourself in that role is beyond me.”

“You know full well how I did. Martino made it impossible to say no.”

Lazzero took a sip of his beer. Eyed him. “When are you going to tell her about his cancer? It would make your life easier, you know.”

It would. But Martino had made him promise not to tell his girls about the rare form of cancer that would have eventually claimed his life. He’d asked Nico to take care of them instead by taking his place at the helm of the company and ensuring it prospered. Telling Chloe now would only add to the emotional upheaval she was going through. And quite frankly, he needed her head on the job.

He threw back a swig of his beer. Wiped his mouth. “I have no idea why Martino even thought this was a good idea.”

“Maybe because you did such a good job with Santo and me,” Lazzero goaded. “We are such model citizens.”

“I am questioning that right now.” Nico slid his attention back to Carello. Watched him put a palm on Chloe’s bare thigh. She didn’t flinch, throwing her hair back over her shoulder and laughing at whatever he said.

Heat seared his belly. “How much has she had to drink?”

“Enough to boost her confidence.” Lazzero leaned a hip against the bar. Slid an assessing gaze over him. “Tough day?”

“Evolution’s stock is in the toilet, we desperately need a hit product and Giorgio has been executing an internal smear campaign against me. It’s been a joy.”

Lazzero’s mouth curled. “He is a nuisance. He’s not a serious threat.”

But he was distracting him at a time he couldn’t afford to be distracted. When Evolution was teetering on the edge of a defining moment. And that, he couldn’t have.

A tall, lanky male with razed blond hair pushed through the crowd to the bar, leaning over to say something to Eddie. The actor gave Chloe a regretful look, then said something that made her face fall, then brighten as Carello took something out of his wallet and slid it onto the bar.

Nico’s fingers tightened around his beer bottle as the actor bent and pressed a kiss to each of Chloe’s cheeks, staining her skin with two twin spots of pink. Then he and his entourage headed off through the crowd.

* * *

A surge of triumph filled Chloe as she sat holding Eddie Carello’s agent’s business card, his parting words ringing in her ears. Call my agent. Give him the details. Tell him I gave this the green light if he’s good with it.

She shook her head bemusedly. Slid off the bar stool, a half-finished glass of champagne in her hand. The world rocked ever so slightly beneath her feet. She’d never had much of a head for alcohol, but Eddie had insisted on that glass of champagne, and OMG, he’d just said yes. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined he would.

Untouchable, my foot.

She turned and headed for Lazzero to thank him. Pulled up short. Nico was standing beside his brother at the bar, the jacket of his dark suit discarded, a drink in his hand.

Her pulse went haywire. Why did that happen every time? And why did he look so good in a shirt and tie? The tie loosened, his hair ruffled, he looked younger, like he had when they’d first met. Devastating.

But that Nico didn’t exist, she reminded herself, heart thumping against her chest like a bass drum. And she’d do well to remember it.