Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) (21 page)

Her blood ran cold.

Unless she cooperated. That was the gist of it.

She could never hate anyone as much as she hated Lonzo Vitale at this moment.

“You’re nothing but a slimeball!” she snarled.

His brow arched. “Then we’re well suited, cara. More than you’ll ever care to admit.”

“I am nothing like you!”

“That’s highly debatable.”

“You think you’re so high and mighty because you have money. Money isn’t everything!” she shouted at him, furious.

His eyes narrowed into icy green chips. “Don’t kid yourself, Jordana. Everyone has their price. You have yours and I can afford the tag.”

“This is blackmail!”

“I’m just collecting what’s due. You started this, cara. Not me. So if you want to save Bastian’s sorry ass, don’t push my patience.”

She was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. “I never thought you’d stoop so low.”

He laughed derisively. “Don’t worry, you’ll earn every penny. In bed. Where you can play all your games.”

He held her chin with his left hand and eyed her with contempt. She glared at him, defeated yet still defiant.

“You want me to be y-your wh…bedmate in exchange for—”

“You have the last say.”

“What choice? You left me with no other option!”

He smiled slowly. “I play to win.”

Her eyes threw daggers at him but she knew how this would eventually turn out.

“Fine. You want a whore? You will get one. I may share your bed but you can never have me—the real me. I will never let you forget that I’m doing this under duress for someone I dearly love.”

His mouth tightened. Her words struck home. For a minute she felt good at throwing the shame card at him for forcing her hand.

“Bastian can have your
love
,” he retaliated. “I never want it,” came his icy comeback.

His words, full of contempt, hit her like angry shards of glass.

“Pack your things now. Call Bastian and tell him not to bother showing up. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. My driver and I will wait for you at the back of the hotel.”

“You can’t just order me around!”

“We both know that’s not true. Fifteen minutes, Jordana. Not a minute more or you’ll live to regret it,” he warned before he turned to leave.

Chapter Twelve

She came out looking like a million bucks.
All in the span of twelve minutes. The woman knew what punctuality meant. He’d give her that.

As she stepped out of the hotel’s rear exit, he was struck at her how graceful she was. There was something in the way she moved, a sensuality in her gait that automatically lured eyes in her wake.

No wonder Jordana Almueda was a fixture at countless runway shows all over the world.

She donned confidence like a cloak, looking nonchalant and composed. It gave no warning of her underlying tempestuous nature.

Mesmerizing and treacherous.

She gave him a black look as soon as she caught sight of him. Squaring her shoulders and rebelliously raising her chin, she walked toward him. She stopped within three feet of him.

“Before I step inside that limo, I want reassurance that you’ll leave Leandro alone.”

He hated hearing that name. He should tell her that she was in no position to negotiate with him. But he chose to give her this one indulgence.

“Fine.” He flipped his phone from his pocket and called one of his banks to extend Leandro’s outstanding loans and guarantee the amount of eighty million Euros. After finishing the call, he shifted his eyes back to her. “Any more special favors for your pimp?” he asked with a sneer.

She visibly bristled. “Don’t you call him that! How dare you criticize him? He’s twice the man you’ll ever be!”

“I beg to disagree,
carissima
, I’ve no doubt I’m twice the man on where it counts.”

“You’re disgusting!”

“Just keeping it real, Jordana.”

“I want everything in writing.”

“You don’t trust my word? Now I’m hurt.”

“Would you trust a snake?”

“Careful,
cara
.”

“You have no honor.”

“My word is my honor. That should be enough.”

“I insist. I want everything in black and white,” she insisted adamantly.

That was ballsy. No woman ever dared to go toe to toe with him in the past.

He considered her request. She had a point. Drawing a contract can protect him from her greedy paws in the future.

“I have to say I admire your shrewd business sense. Okay, I’ll have my lawyer draft something up. You’ll have it by tomorrow.”

She opened her mouth to say something but probably changed her mind. She nodded, finally reassured. Good. He wasn’t amenable to give her another advantageous inch.

He opened the passenger side of the limo and she went inside without demur. She sat at the farthest side of the vehicle.

He scowled at her.

Stormy eyes clashed with his. “Can we go now?”

He gave a curt nod, reining his temper as he gave instructions to his chauffeur.

Their ride to the Charles de Gaulle airport crackled with tension.

She wouldn’t even spare him a look as they boarded his Gulfstream jet that would take them to Italy. She sat and was as quiet as a mouse.

Her silence was killing him.

What do you expect, Vitale? Can’t blame her for not being chatty.

He played every dirty trick in the book, railroaded and blackmailed her into coming with him.

He can deal with her anger. He’d eventually wear her down.

That should’ve satisfied him. Getting her on his plane where he could keep an eye on her was already half the battle. But he was not. Far from it.

Her lengthy, defeated silence didn’t bode well with him. He was surprised that he’d rather hear her spitting and fighting over this quiet stillness.

You’re letting her womanly assets cloud your judgment, Vitale.

He cursed inwardly .

He would deal with her later.
Oh yes, he will.

She was all his. For a month.

In one month he can fuck her out of his system, grab the shares from his errant uncle and put his life back into perfect order. If she played her cards right, he might even feel generous enough to give her a substantial parting gift.

She was business, that was all. A means to an end.

You better not forget that, Vitale.
His mind reminded.

As she sat beside Lonzo in the plush
upholstered seat of his private
jet which would take them to god-knows-where, Jordana continued to curb her tongue. She picked up her phone from her backpack and dialed the number of her agency. Francesca immediately picked up the call.

“Honey, I was about to call you—”

“Francesca. Uhm. Hi. Listen, I need you to free my sched for this month. I’m extending my holiday…”

“What?!” Francesca screamed at her. “Are you trying to kill me, child?”

“Something came up—”

“Uh-huh. Listen here, honey...if you’re ditching me because you want to get that bitch Chloe to represent you, just say so.”

Where did that come from?

“No! I’m not jumping ship!” she quickly reassured her booker.

“You can’t just run off to somewhere just because you’re not in the mood! I have already closed bookings! Do you understand that the agency can get sued for this?” Francesca said on a dramatic high note.

But she won’t be pushed into compliance. “Francesca, this is me. Since when did I let my mood dictate my life, hmmm? Never. I am a real trooper. I never complain. I am always on time. I work my ass off for the agency. This is the first and only time I’m asking you for a small favor.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You can talk to the clients and reschedule.You’ve done this before. Please, Francesca…” she pleaded.

“ A commitment is a commitment.”

Jordana changed tactics. “I’ve got this Chanel bag…”

“So you’re resorting to bribery now, eh? How could you even think…”

“…it’s not yet in production. I’ve got a runway sample,” she shamelessly dangled. She knew Francesca’s expensive kryptonite.

“…that I will even resist?” Francesca said, finally giving in.

“Is that a yes?”

“Done, honey,” her booker affirmed.

Yes!
She sighed in relief.

“Why the hush-hush? Even the twitterazzi and the papz couldn’t stop you from sashaying at the major catwalks. Tell me, does that “something” got two legs? Is he hot?” Francesca asked slyly. “Wait! Don’t tell me…! The billionaire?”

She didn’t answer.

“I knew it! Okay, honey…the secret’s safe with me. I truly understand…about time you shagged…err…get your heart broken some time. Well, I can probably sweet talk these people to leave you alone for a month. Just a month, okay? Not a day longer! Now, tell me I’m fabulous.”

“Thanks, Francesca. You’re the best.”

“I know, honey,” Francesca said smugly before ending the call.

One problem solved.

Next, she dialed Leandro’s number. His phone rang for sometime before he picked up.

“Dana?”

“Leandro…I’m sorry if I woke you. Listen, there’s been a change of plans.” She spoke to her friend in Portuguese so that the man beside her cannot follow their conversation.

“What? I don’t follow—”

“Uhm…there’s no need for you to fly to Paris. Just head back to NYC. I decided to go on a month-long holiday. I need time to think things over.”

“Vacation? You? You never go on vacation. I had to drag you the last time,” he said, his voice suspicious.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. Leandro knew her too well.

“I’ll be leaving for Italy. Just a little vacation. Backpacking in the mountains where these shutterbugs can’t track me. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you. Look, I’ll cover the expenses—”

“Jordana, are you in some sort of trouble?”

“I am okay. I just need some…time by myself. For heaven’s sake, Leandro…this is my first attempt at taking a vacation in years! Can’t I be spontaneous for a change?” she snapped. She hated lying to him.

Leandro was silent on the other line.

“Okay. I’m sorry if I sounded like a mother hen. I’m just a bit stretched thin lately.”

I know
, she thought but she didn’t voice it out loud.

“I’m sorry for dumping my problems on you—” she said softly.

Leandro grunted in response. “We’re partners, remember?”

She smiled. She loved him like a brother. She owed him this. “I know. I’m really sorry for—”

“You have nothing to feel sorry for., Dana. Now get off the phone so I can rebook my flight home.”

“Okay. I won’t take more of your time.”

“Call me as soon as you’re settled, okay? I got your back.”

“I will.
Cuida-te
. T
chau
.” She almost choked with emotion at what he said.

I got your back.

And I got yours, Leandro.

“Tchau.”
She said, trying to blink back the tears when she ended their conversation.

She turned and saw Lonzo giving her that knowing look.

“You listened, didn’t you?” she accused.

He shrugged. “Yes,” he said without any scruples.

“Looking for another weapon to use against me?”

He laughed dryly. “You haven’t been speaking Portuguese lately. Your accent’s a bit off,” he smirked.

“You dirty son of…! You understood everything I said—” her face reddened, horrified.

“Why didn’t you tell Bastian you’re with me?” he prodded.

“There’s no need to worry him.”

“And being with me would worry him?” he had the audacity to sound surprised. As if Leandro wouldn’t react violently if he’d known she went and made a pact with the devil.

She gave him a withering look before she turned her head away to stare out of the window of the plane. “You know he will. He already warned me about you, of what you’re capable of. Of what you are.”

He crossed his arms over his chest before he leaned back on his seat. “And what exactly am I?”

“The spawn of the devil,” she said before flashing him a look of pure loathing.

Two hours later, they landed at Rome’s Ciampino Airport.
Jordana was the first to get off the plane, still tight-lipped as ever. His staff handled the immigration and custom checks as they waited. Once cleared, they exited the terminal where his black Maybach and chauffeur waited to take them to the villa. They sat in tense silence while their bags were being loaded in the trunk.