Jean coveralls, a hot pink T-shirt, and white Converse™ covered her feet. He couldn’t help but laugh. Not many people surprised him lately, but this woman did. That alone piqued his interest. Committed to catching up to her for an introduction, he paused just a few feet behind when he saw her raise a hand to greet someone.
Raymond Sperry stood from his chair, smiling at the woman walking towards him. Just as Tristan was adjusting to the new situation, the woman he’d planned to meet, take out to dinner, and fuck into oblivion did something to stop him in his tracks. She walked up to the man who was as deadly, if not more so, than Tristan himself.
“Hey, Daddy,” she greeted.
Turning, he saw his cousin standing outside the car, taking in the scene. A grim look on his face. “Well, fuck me.” This situation just went from bad to worse.
CHAPTER 2
Camille watched the interaction between her father and the delicious man standing next to their table. Of course, she’d seen him crossing the street as she made her way to the restaurant. The man was difficult to miss.
Easily standing at least six feet three inches, everything about him captured her attention. His tanned skin, strong Mediterranean feature, dark hair, and brown eyes gave her a hint of his ancestry. When he turned to her and introduced himself, she had the final piece of the puzzle.
And it explained why her father looked as if he could chew glass.
“Tristan Lucarelli,” his smooth voice called out to her. His hand extended in greeting.
“Camille Sperry,” she responded. “Nice to meet you.” When their hands touched, she felt a spark of electricity pass through their contact. Snatching her hand away from his, she rubbed her palm along her pants leg. Although she tried to play it off, the smirk on his face told her he knew exactly why she’d pulled away.
The longer she looked at him, the more she wanted to touch him again. It wasn’t like her to be caught up in the gaze of a man. No matter how sexy he was. She became annoyed when his gaze raked her body from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head. Smug bastard.
The intense look in his eyes made no secret of his thoughts. A shiver coursed along her spine as she questioned if she wanted to engage in this dance with him. Tristan Lucarelli was no one to be trifled with. She wanted to dip her head, hide her eyes away from him. But the longer he stared, the more willing she was to give up all her secrets.
Her father’s voice interrupted them, breaking the spell she was under.
“Tristan,” his tone hard. Flat. “What brings you here?”
It took a second for Tristan to turn to her father, but when he did, his tone was oddly deferential.
“Hello, Raymond. I was just in the neighborhood. You remember my cousin Marco, right?” At her father’s nod, he continued. “Well, Marco wanted my help with a situation.”
His eyes squinted, and the look on her father’s face became cold and harsh. “Is that right? I saw your cousin the other day. He’d stopped by for some business help.”
After a pause, Tristan responded, “Yes, I heard. Business decisions can be difficult, especially when the result has the potential to be detrimental to operations. I understand how it goes and can appreciate the tough choices that need to be made.”
“You do? So, did you know what the situation was before agreeing to help your cousin?”
Camille was as lost as a babe in the woods, but she also wasn’t dumb. Her father and the Sex God, also known as Tristan Lucarelli, knew each other. Or at least had mutual interests. And whatever his cousin had asked him to do, it hadn’t been a good thing. Maybe.
Getting out of her own head, she turned back to their conversation, trying to decipher their code. This was why she needed her mother here. She’d get her father to stop pussyfooting around and speak plainly. Then again, her mother would have probably made them both stop talking altogether.
Camille, being the nosey-as-hell person that she was, sat back and continued listening.
“No, I had no idea. Sometimes my cousin has odd ideas. I don’t agree with ninety percent of what he does. Especially not today,” he paused. Glancing over at Camille, he lifted his lips in a semblance of a smile. “I’m just glad I stopped by to say hello. Otherwise, I may not have been able to meet your beautiful daughter.”
Camille’s stomach clenched at the look he threw her way. This wasn’t like her. Responding to a man so quickly was unusual. She preferred to take her time getting to know a man, make sure he was worth her attention and effort.
Plus, she wasn’t all that open and friendly. Her parents were two of the most loving, protective people she knew. But she also knew they were not to be trifled with. Neither of them would put up with any mess. Her father was quick to smile, but that switch could flip before you could blink. Her mother, Beverly, could slice a person to pieces with only her words. Camille had learned from the best, and that made her damn picky about who was able to see underneath the hood, so to speak.
All things considered, she’d often lamented about how often she’d been accused of being too cold, or unapproachable to men.
Her best friend, Shandra, told her she intimated men. Yeah, that was probably the truth. Thank God her parents didn’t put her in a box, forcing her to live by the standards of others. They let her make her own way, forge her own path.
As a result, she’d obtained a degree in architecture, but decided to use her knowledge to build custom wood furniture. Just seven years after completing her master’s degree, she was a successful business owner. Her store, CS Designs, was highly sought after and making a healthy profit month-over-month.
As a matter of fact, her business was so successful, she could basically write her own ticket for any piece of handmade furniture she created. Her clients were some of the wealthiest people in Massachusetts and Rhode Island. She’d even been contacted by some customers from across the United States and overseas.
While some parents wanted their daughters to be doctors or lawyers, her parents simply wanted her to live and succeed on her own terms. Then again, she knew her father hadn’t grown up in the best of situations himself. Her grandmother had raised him on her own, living in Pawtucket, a small town next to Providence.