Sweet On You

chapter Two



Nico Cruz stood in the living room window of his suite and gazed out at all of downtown San Francisco below him. He should have been listening to what his second-in-command, Jason Lethem, was saying about the deal they were closing, but instead he stared at the Christmas lights and decorations cluttering Union Square and the surrounding streets.

Bah humbug.

Of all the holidays, Christmas was his least favorite. It reminded him of everything he'd lost and underscored that, as much as he'd regained—as far up in the world as he'd come—some things were beyond his reach.

Like happiness.

As much as he acquired, as great as he grew his empire, it wasn't enough. He had anything he could possibly want. Fancy cars. Private jet. He lived in the Mandarin Oriental, for chrissakes.

He looked at his reflection in the glass. He was average height, broad in the shoulders, wearing a handmade suit that cost as much as most families made in a month. His expensive watch peeked out from his sleeve, and his hair was the kind of perfect that only a two-hundred dollar cut could buy.

It just wasn't enough. He was still unsatisfied and, to his own eyes, he still looked like the street thug he'd been as a teenager.

If he went to a shrink, he'd be told that he'd been so starved as a child that he overcompensated now. That he'd never be satisfied, because it'd never be enough. That he'd never be able to shake his gangland roots, because he wasn't ready to forgive himself.

The shrink would be right. There was no reason to waste the money to prove it.

"And I hired elves for the holiday season," Jason said loudly.

Frowning, Nico turned around. "Excuse me?"

Jason gave him the flat stare that intimidated other businessmen.

Tugging his sleeves down, he strode to the table where Jason had laid out all the contracts and sat down. "Did you think I wasn't paying attention?"

"It certainly looked that way," his right hand said in his crisp British voice.

When he'd first hired Jason twelve years before, Nico had been impressed with the man's business mind, but he'd hired him for his elegance. It softened his own rough edges to have someone so cultured in his corner.

Because underneath the silk shirts and hand-stitched shoes, he was still the street thug that he'd been as a kid. The edges may have smoothed out a little, but they hadn't been sanded away completely. Given the right circumstance, he could be just as ruthless as he’d been living on the street.

It made real estate the perfect milieu for him.

Jason set the papers aside and steepled his hands in front of him. "Nico, you've been more aloof than even you usually are. You've taken brooding to a whole new level."

"I'm not brooding."

"Aren't you?"

"No," he said, shutting that conversation down before Jason started psychoanalyzing him. Jason enjoyed dissecting Nico's "inner workings," as he called them.

"Is it a woman?" his right hand asked.

Nico couldn't fault Jason's relentlessness. That was one of the reasons he'd hired the man. But his personal life was personal—and nonexistent at the moment, except for the occasional casual date. He was too busy conquering the world. "Just finish what you were saying, Jason."

"Before you started to daydream about sugar plums, or your woman du jour"—Jason gave him an arched look—"I was saying Parsons was ready to close the deal. There's still a bit of negotiation, I think, but we're close."

"Good." He checked his watch. "Anything else?"

"Yes, since I have your attention now." He shuffled some papers until he found what he was looking for. Holding them out, he said, "The dilapidated building South of Market you've wanted forever was just put up for sale. That old motel."

Nico stilled. Then he took the pages from Jason.

The MLS listing detailed the usual information: square footage, number of units, and asking price. It didn't say that the building had been a flophouse that’d housed countless poor families. That the gangs in the Mission had recruited their foot soldiers directly from those barren rooms. That people had died there.

Like his brother Eddie.

He swallowed thickly as he looked at the photo of the edifice's front courtyard, where he'd found Eddie's body dumped, like it was trash. There was no evidence of the murder, but he still saw the blood pooling on the pavement.

He'd been waiting for this building to come up for sale for twenty years, so he could buy and raze it until not a speck of it existed. But the owner had adamantly held on to it, even after it'd been condemned in the '89 Loma Prieta earthquake.

"What changed the owner's mind about selling?" Nico asked hoarsely.

"Death. His heir wasn't as averse to selling it as the original owner was. There's just one catch," Jason warned.

"What?"

"Someone else expressed a strong interest in the building."

He calmed. He always won. "That's not a problem then. Make sure you outbid him."

"Her." Jason shifted through more papers until he found what he was looking for. "Daniela Rossi, the world-renowned pastry chef."

"You say that like I should know who she is."

Jason smiled mildly. "Her chocolate cake is one of the top five things I've ever eaten in my life."

"High praise coming from a man who loves to eat."

"It was heaven," Jason said devoutly, closing his eyes. Then he refocused on Nico. "It's just as well you don't know her. She's your type and, if you'd met her, you'd have broken her heart. Then we'd have not just an adversary on our hands but a vengeful woman who was out for your balls."

"It'd have added to the thrill of the hunt."

"You're a seriously disturbed man." He began gathering his contracts and notes.

Unable to help it, Nico asked, "What makes her my type, Jason?"

"Feisty," he said without hesitation. "Face of a Botticelli angel. She's the type of woman you never go for."

He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. You just said she was my type."

"She is, but you never go for women who have life and substance to them. Instead you go for the obvious and dull. Tall, blond, and icy."

He raised his brows. "Icy?"

Jason shrugged. "I was being kind."

"What makes you think that this Daniela Rossi is better for me?" he asked curiously.

"She's as passionate as you are," Jason said without pause. "She'd stand up to you. You need someone you can't boss around. You tend to pick women who are easily swayed to your way of thinking, let's just say."

"You mean I control them?"

"If you want to be blunt about it."

Nico frowned. "You sound like you know Daniela Rossi well."

"I only met her once, over a slice of her chocolate cake, but it made a lasting impression."

"Apparently." And he didn't like it.

Jason grinned and stood with his briefcase. "You're just jealous you haven't tasted her cake."

Maybe. Maybe he was jealous that someone could enjoy something so small as a piece of cake. He hadn't enjoyed anything in a long time. He was only going through the motions.

But he would enjoy tearing down the Harrison Street building. He'd demolish it and erect a marketplace and parking facility, like the Ferry Building. Most importantly, he'd erase the last reminder of where he came from and what he'd lost.

And then...

He shook his head. He'd figure out what then after. First things first. "Get me that building, Jason."

"Of course." Tipping his head, he let himself out.

As soon as he was gone, Nico sat in front of his laptop and opened a browser. Into Google, he typed Daniela Rossi.