Four Months Earlier

~~~~

Rolling my eyes, I sigh into the phone. Why do lawyers always worry over nothing? "I got it, Reese. If Marco takes the stand, I'm fucked. That's why I'm gonna make sure he won't."

"And I'll stop you right there." Reese's voice is sharp and colored with annoyance. "I told you before, I'm not only your lawyer but an officer of the court. If you plan something dodgy, I don't want to know about it."

Fine by me.

"Just a sec, Reese." I mute the call. Tapping Fabrizio's shoulder, I point at the parking lot in front of the small grocery store. "Pull in over there. I still need to pick up dessert for tonight." Otherwise, Angela won't let me hear the end of it. The woman doesn't give up pussy without a sugar rush.

I unmute the call. "Look, Reese, I promise I got things under control on my end. You just make sure I'll get my jury trial soon." The racketeering charge has been dragging on for too long and I'm sick of being confined to the boundaries of New York. It's like a fucking prison.

"I'll try to fast track the case, but with the lead prosecutor quitting again, it might be a while."

"Trying is not good enough. Get it fucking done. It's what I'm paying you for." With a huff, I disconnect the call. These lawyers are excellent when it comes to making excuses. For a grand an hour, he'd better get me results.

Fabrizio pulls the limo into a parking space and kills the engine. Getting out, he scans the lot and the adjacent buildings. A tap on the window with his key gives me the all clear. He opens the car door and I slide out, stretching until my joints pop. I'm still badly hung over from last night, but the crisp spring air gets my blood flow circulating. I almost feel human again.

Heading into the store, I look around and smile at the cashier. "Excuse me, where are your pies?"

Without taking her eyes off her phone, she points with her thumb over her shoulder. "In the back behind the produce."

What a fucked up customer service. In my part of town, clerks are courteous and respectful. They would've bend over backward to show me where the baked goods are without even expecting a thank you.

Huffing under my breath, I venture further into the store. A gasp draws my attention to another customer. She stares down at a bunch of oranges bouncing around on the floor. The ruins of a torn plastic bag are wrapped around her hand.

Our eyes meet and I take a step back. The haunted vulnerability in her gaze cuts through my chest like a sharp knife. A single tear rolls down her cheek; for a beat, it clings to her chin and then drops to the floor where it lands with a splash.

The fuck.

I clear my throat. "Let me get that for you."

"No, no, it's okay."

We bend down at the same time and our foreheads collide.

"Ouch." She rubs the sore spot.

"I'm so sorry."

Fuck, what am I apologizing for? She didn't ask for my help and I should turn around and walk away. I nevertheless can't stop myself from gathering up the oranges. All the while, she stands there like a lost girl, arms hanging lifeless by her side, her teeth torturing her lip. She manages to keep the tears at bay but barely.

I toss the oranges back into the crate. They are bruised, so let some other dumbass have them. "You might want to try several bags. The produce ones are not very sturdy."

Still in a daze, she nods.

I smile. "How many oranges do you need?"

"Six."

I pick out six large, juicy ones and drop them into three different bags. "Here we go. Is this your cart?"

Her eyes finally regain their focus and she blinks away the tears. "Yes, thank you."

When she smiles, my stomach flips. Blood rushes to every single extremity, sparing neither my head nor my cock. Luckily, my loose-fitting suit pants hide my boner, though my hot face betrays that I'm flustered.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I want to look away, but I'm fixed on her like a deer in headlights. Her heart-shaped mouth with lips that could send any man to heaven dominates her face, and the high cheekbones give her a certain elegance. Her skin holds a gorgeous complexion with an earthy golden glow that is too dark for a white girl; my guess is on a fiery Latina among her recent ancestors. Her wild mane with the thick curls is pulled back into a ponytail and my fingers twitch to tuck the few loose strands behind her ears.

I have to clear my throat three times to find my voice. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, gosh, you probably think I'm a nutcase." The dark pink in her cheeks suits her. "I'm sorry, but I had a really rough day and when the bag tore, I lost it. It was all too much." With the last sentence, her voice thickens. She is on the brink of crying again.

I squeeze her arm, too well aware that this is a total invasion of her personal space, but I crave the contact. "I'm glad I could help." Her skin is warm and smooth under my fingertips.

When she smiles again, a spark hits her golden brown eyes. It triggers a bolt of lightning to rip through my body.

"Thank you again. I really appreciate it." She lowers her gaze and looks up at me from under curved eyelashes. Usually, this damsel in distress routine is not my thing, but I let it slide.

"Would you like to grab a cup of coffee?"

"I'm sorry, but I have to get home. It's my son's birthday and I'm meant to bake him a cake."

Oh, fuck, a child. That changes things. She's probably married on top of that, though a glance at her left hand doesn't reveal a wedding ring.

"Okay, take care." Eager to get away, I almost stumble over my feet. As I make my way to the baked goods section, I keep turning my head to catch a glimpse of her swaying ass. She is a masterpiece of nature with curves in all the right places and enough pounds around her waist to give my hands something to play with. A shame she has a kid.

Grabbing the first pie I see, I return to the cashier in the front. Fabrizio hasn't moved an inch, guarding the door and keeping an eye on things in the store. When I lock his gaze, he arches a brow.

What was that all about?

I wish I knew. Cutie still has my head spinning.

"That's thirty-eight dollars, sir."

What? For a motherfucking pie? My jaw drops at the outright extortion. In my neighborhood, the baker with the homemade Italian cakes doesn't charge me more than twenty-five bucks. I'm tempted to pass, but Cutie is coming down the aisle and I don't want to make a scene. Pulling out my credit card, I tap the pay pad at the register. The machine spits out a receipt just as Cutie places her purchases on the belt. The three bags with the oranges move toward me.

Can I have your number? rests at the tip of my tongue, but I manage to swallow down the sentence before coming across as a pathetic stalker.

Think of the kid.

Plus I've never begged a woman for a date. I'm an obvious catch, and if she were interested, she would've asked for a raincheck when I offered to take her out for coffee.

Her smile gets my cock hard again and it takes all my effort to grab the pie and run. Back in the limo, I let out a shaky breath.

What the actual fuck?

Fabrizio starts the car. "Home?"

"Yes." I turn around and crane my neck. Cutie is just walking out of the store. "No, wait! Drive to the exit of the parking lot but then pretend to be stuck in traffic there."

Keeping my head low enough not to make it immediately obvious that I'm spying on her but high enough to peek out the back window, I chew my lip. She takes her sweet time, pushing the cart toward a row of cars. Finally, her journey ends behind a black S-Class Mercedes. She pops the trunk and I let out a low whistle.

Nice wheels.

I lift my phone and snap a picture of the license plate. Turning around to Fabrizio, I give him a nod. "You can go now."

He pulls into the road and I dial the top number on speed dial. Tony picks up almost instantly.

"What do you need?"

"I'll send you a picture with a license plate. Find out anything you can about the registered owner and their family."

"You got it."

"And Tony, be discreet. I don't want you to make direct contact."

"No problem."

I end the call and drop my head against the backrest of seat. Hell, why do I even care? I'm one of the richest and most powerful men on the East coast and can choose among the most gorgeous women alive. I don't need her.

Closing my eyes, the haunted look on her face sends my mind reeling. I'll have to see her again—and then fuck her senseless. It's the only way to cleanse her from my system.

Inspiration struck, so you got another chapter. I hoped you enjoyed our tough guy get struck by the love bug; as you can tell, Robyn made an impression. How did you enjoy their meet cute? Too soft or just right.

In the next chapter, you will finally get to meet Robyn as a narrator. I hope you are already excited. Before you go, please consider a vote and/or drop me a comment and let me know how you are enjoying the story so far. Thanks for reading and I hope to see you again soon.