The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (18 page)

Tracy dropped her shoulder, yanking free from his grasp.
“What is your problem?”

A vein pulsed above Vincent’s brow. His gaze drifted ruefully over her arm where his hand had been. He mumbled in an accusatory tone, his Italian littered with swear words, something about it takes more than a pretty face and a perfect body to impress him. Just because she graduated top of her class meant nothing to him.

She snapped back in mixed dialogs, wanting him to know she knew enough of his native tongue to know exactly what he said. “I am not just another
bel viso
. They hired me to help you.”

“Everyone here knows why
he
hired you.” His lips pursed in a tight line, rimming the thin arches in white.

Tracy’s face scrunched in disgust. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means
he
hired you to take you as his lover.”

Her mouth dropped open, gasping at the deplorable suggestion. Up until now she chalked up his harmless flirting as a chauvinistic personality flaw. Her mind clouded, feverishly replaying a few warning signs she might’ve disregarded.

“I won’t let him, or you, sabotage what’s left of my family’s legacy just to satisfy his own personal agenda. My mamma, she’s suffered enough. No more!” His brows raised, adding certainty to his promise with a low growl. “You can mark my words.”

Tracy threw back her shoulders, moving inches from his face. The scent of his breath fanned across her face, enveloping her senses. The sweetness curled through her memories, striking a fiery ping of lost desire low in her abdomen. She tremble
d all over.

“
You
can mark
my
words. I have no intentions of being your brother’s
lover
.” She nearly gagged saying the word.

“
You
are foolish.” His long tapered fingered jutted toward her face. Their hard stares battled for a moment, neither backing down. His lips drew back in a silent snarl. “What he wants, he will get. He wants you. You know nothing.”

Their heavy breathing pulsed rhythmically and she stared at the blood pulsing in the vein at the side of his neck. The sound of his weighty
inhalation triggered visions of lying beneath him, imagining what the strained look on his face would be like during sex. Anger mixed with lust, igniting fire to the heated energy passing between them.

Her eyes feathered shut feeling a surge of desire rush through her core and below. The tips of her breasts pulled taunt, aching against the contact of her dress. She silently cursed her body for betraying her mind.

Opening her eyes, she spurt tersely, “I have an aversion to Italian men.”

Shock spread over his face, her words silencing his rage. His chest raised and lowered, each ragged breath flaring his nostrils. A look of repulsion furrowed o
ver his entire face.

“Pervertito?”
he questioned.

“What?” Her repulsive reaction mimicked his. “No! Not perversion!
Aversion.
I have an
aversion
to Italian men.”

Vincent’s eyes narrowed contemptuously, creating a crevice between his dark brows. “I do not know this word,
aversion
.”

Burying her face in the palms of her hands, she shook her head. “It means I don’t
do
Italian men.”

Offended by his accusation and dreading the possibility Vincent could be right, she turned away from his disparaging eyes. Anger and embarrassment boiled to the surface in tears.

Feeling like a credulous fool, Tracy gathered her fingers beneath her chin and propelled them forward into thin air, giving him a solid “Fuck You” and stomped off toward the main castle.

At that precise moment she caught sight of Vincent’s reflection in the window, witnessing her obscene gesture. He bolted after her, reaching her in a few long strides. Grabbing her by the arm, he spun her to face him.

Vincent bent over her. His face grew red, his grip unyielding. A small vein throbbed over one eyebrow and dark lashes curtained casting a heavy shadow upon his cheekbone. “Don’t you ever come near my office again.”

Guilt swept over her for lack of control and for the ridiculous amount of lust playing havoc with her senses.

“Gladly.” She huffed reverting toward her office.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The castle remained eerily quiet over the next few days. Vincent made himself scarce, however, she knew exactly when he entered into the main building. The gorgeous painting depicting a sleepy Tuscan village, hanging on her wall, threatened to rattle loose of its supporting nail with each slam of the door.

Lulled by the mundane ticking of the antique clock hanging on the wall, she caught herself dozing off at her desk for the second time and it wasn’t even noon yet. Catching a whiff of freshly brewed coffee, she closed her laptop and followed the rich, delicious aroma.

Sunshine beamed through each large
arched window, warming her bare calves as she sauntered down the long hall. Walking past the back door, she saw Vincent walking up the sidewalk, arms encumbered with two cases of wine. Their eyes locked for a split second. Turning away from the stormy grey pull of his eyes, she saw him nod asking for her assistance.

Tracy ignored him and continued
down the corridor. Hearing the door knob jiggle, moral decency tapped her on the shoulder.  She stopped mid-stride, struggling with a mental tug-of-war, detestation verses politeness. Her eyes rolled back and her lip curled in revulsion. Her conscience winning, forcing her to do an about face.

“Here,
by all means, let me help you with that.” Tracy offered with a snide smile, voice as sweet as honey, opening the door allowing him to walk through.

She thought she heard him draw a breath, possibly to thank her, as she
slammed the door behind him rattling the glass. He lurched at the loud boom, fumbling to keep hold of the crates, swearing beneath his breath.

Her head bobbled back-and-forth childishly, huffing in satisfaction, “No wonder you do that.”

Throwing him a sideways glance, Tracy witnessed a rare hint of a grin lift at the corner of his mouth. The vision was so gorgeous it made her traitorous heart flip.

Feeling his eyes pinned to her backside, her hormones automatically took over
, adding a sway to her hips. She feared her knees might buckle before making it to the coffee niche around the corner.

Grabbing a gourmet single serve coffee capsule, she shoved
it into the maker and wiped her sweaty palms on a napkin.
She inhaled her coffee while leaning on a spotless countertop, allowing her pulse to settle before venturing back into the hall.

As she made her way back to her office, Tracy saw Vincent outside on
the veranda. A smile ticked the edge of her mouth.
He didn’t slam the door when he left.
Her head tilted, a ping of curiosity pulled her closer to the wall.

Hiding behind
the edge of the window, she watched in astonishment as his typically rigid stance softened and an unpretentious smile broadened across his entire face. Reading his lips, Vincent called out
Bongiorno
to someone just out of her sight. She questioned what on earth could make this man happy. He extended his arms wide sparking a twinge of unsuspecting yearning to her core. Clinging to the corner of the wall, she frowned, privately wishing and wondering why he hadn’t greeted her with the same sexy grin.

Lost emotions collected in her chest
, spreading heat to a tender place deep inside, until she saw her mom and Lisa round the corner. Tracy’s face soured.

A crimson haze surrounded her vision and
anger splintered at the idiotic pleasantries he showered them with. Tracy moved toward the window, grimacing as she observed Vincent embracing Lisa in a friendly hello. Her breath fogged on the cold glass. She contemplated pounding her fist on the window to warn her mom not to be fooled by her nemesis.
Who the hell does he think he is being nice to my mom and Lisa?

“
Oh I do not fucking think so,” she seethed beneath her breath heading for the exit with lethal determination.

Fury and defensiveness worked itself into full on crazy
ville by the time she burst through the door. Her arms swung crossly, propelling her into a brisk march. Vincent inclined forward to customarily kiss her mom’s cheek. Tracy picked up her pace trotting toward them.

“Momma!” Brushing V
incent to the side, Tracy literally squirmed between them. His stunned expression played in slow motion out of the corner of her eye as she embraced her mother.

Her mom startled at Tracy’s
brusqueness. “Well, hey there sweetheart.”

Breat
hless, she continued in an octave higher than normal, “What brings you here?”

“
Lisa brought me. We came to say hi.”

Tracy remained wedged between them,
blocking Vincent from her mom. She knew by the scowls of confusion notched between Tess and Lisa’s brows, her behavior bordered on odd at best and most likely verging on flat out rude.

Vincent dropped his hands to his side and took a step back.
Their gaze connected and Tracy’s heart jumped, nearly beating out of her chest. Judging by the dumbfounded look on his face, he was just as shocked by her actions. Guilt and embarrassment spread over her in a thin layer of perspiration.

Vincent
refrained from getting next to Tess, holding out his arm to usher them inside. Lisa latched onto to Tracy, linking arms at their elbows.

Her mom, who would never consider the notion of being
impolite, finished their introduction, “Thank you for offering to take us on a tour. I would love to see the vineyard.”

Tracy’s jaw
clenched so tight she could’ve bit a stick in two.

Lis
a’s voice interrupted her rage. “MJ is working in Dubai designing a palace for a sheik. Apparently he takes precedence over me.” Lisa pouted, sarcasm coiled with irritancy. “Tommy and Benny are busy with production deadlines, so I’m sending you the next best designers I know. Your mother and I.”

Tracy could barely pay a
ttention, consumed with eavesdropping on her mom and Vincent’s conversation. Her anger grew with each passing second. His endearing tone pissed her off beyond belief. The fabric of her dress clung to her damp skin.

“Designer?” s
he heard Vincent question.

Tracy twisted her neck and glared
at Lisa, signaling for her to please zip her lips. Tension mounted, neither she nor Vincent were any good at concealing their body language. Annoyance swirled between them.

Reaching the door, she asked, “Momma, would the two of you mind giving us a minute?”

A glimpse of
Oh dear, shit is gonna hit the fan
covered the women’s faces as they stepped over the threshold into the safety of the castle. The door shut tight and Tracy circled around Vincent, using his body to block their view.

“What is your problema
?” A debris of loathing spewed from his lips.

She laid into him.
“My problem? You’ve been nothing but mean to me since I walked through the damn door! And then you go and try and charm the—”

Vincent
flinched at her high pitch and the velocity of anger coloring her voice. He lowered his chin and narrowed a cold hard look at her. “A designer? For your sake, it better not be for this place.”

“Yes, this place is in desperate need of professional help! And don’t you think for one second that you are going to be nice to my mom and Lisa!”

“
The Levi’s are one of our best clients.”

“I don’t give a crap if she
’s your client.” Fury throbbed in the pulse at the side of her neck.  “Lisa is my people!”

“
Your people
?” Vincent mocked, amusement flickering in the squint of his eye. “I am always nice to Lisa when she visits.”

“If my mother knew how
welcoming
you’ve been to me,” she stated acidly, drilling an index finger into his jacket, “She’d chew you up and spit you out like a rotten sunflower seed. And I might take pity on you if Lisa finds out!”

Stunned by the way her finger bounced off the hard planes of his chest, Tracy raked a cool glare over his chest.
A tingling sensation skittered over her skin causing her to tremble. His mouth pushed into a tight line. Beneath a layer of calm, she sensed his anger rising. The densely charged air sizzled between them.

A
strand of her hair caught in a light gust of wind, sticking to her lips. Facing the breeze, she shook her hair loose, tucking the dark auburn strand behind her ear. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers, suddenly erasing the smirk he wore. Anguish splashed across his face. His dark brow bent and the angles on his face hardened.