light turned and he hustled across the street and down the sidewalk. He had a meeting with a few bankers who had a sudden case of nerves about the terms of a deal he’d offered to purchase a struggling manufacturing plant. They needed to be coddled. He couldn’t be distracted by an attraction that was out of line.
Ridiculous.
So far off base it shouldn’t even be acknowledged.
All he wanted from Olivia Prentiss was for her to do her job.
And he needed to do his.
Heading for the building lobby, he went over the terms of the agreement for Echo Manufacturing in his head. He’d crafted this deal with the precision of an artist. He wouldn’t change anything. He had to make the bankers see things his way.
After a two-hour meeting spent attempting to alleviate the concerns of stubborn autocrats with no vision, he was crossing the street again. As persuasive and charming as he’d been, they’d ordered him to totally redraw the offer.
Though that made him forget everything that had happened that morning, it did not make him happy. In fact, if fury were a living thing, his temper would be Godzilla.
His head filled with facts and figures, he entered the elevator to his office suite. He was so immersed in his work that when the doors opened he probably would have walked straight through Olivia’s office without even a greeting. But as the doors slid apart, the word gin! blasted him.
He stopped. There at Olivia’s desk, an empty Chinese food carton on his right, a cup of coffee on his left and a deck of cards between him and Olivia, was Constanzo Bartulocci.
Short and round in the tummy, but dressed elegantly in a tailored gray suit, Constanzo grinned at him. “Good afternoon, Tucker.”
“Constanzo?” His head spun. First her parents had arrived and reminded him of everything he hadn’t had as a child. Then she’d bowled him over with a little close proximity and eye contact. Then bankers had turned him down. And now the owner of the company he wanted to buy was playing gin—with his assistant?
He wasn’t sure he could handle any more surprises today.
The Italian jumped off his chair. “Sì! It’s good to see you!”
As Constanzo enveloped Tucker in a bear hug, Tucker caught Olivia’s gaze.
Her face reddened and she mouthed the words, “He was hungry.”
Constanzo released him. “Seven hours on a plane. Two hours in traffic to get here. Starvation and boredom were killing me.” He gestured to Olivia. “I hope you don’t mind that I begged your assistant to share her food with me.”
She grimaced. “We did have leftovers.”
His assistant had fed one of the richest men in the world cold Chinese food. Where the hell had his office dignity gone? Where was decorum?
“Yes. I see.” He smiled at Constanzo. “I’m glad she had time for you.”
Constanzo laughed. “I’m sure she had work, but your Vivi, she is generous.”
One of Tucker’s eyebrows quirked. Vivi?
Constanzo waved his arm in the direction of Tucker’s office. “Come. Let’s talk about these rumors I’m hearing that you want to buy me out.”
Excitement obliterated his anger over the Echo deal and the emotions left over from Vivi’s parents’ visit. If Constanzo was here at his office, eager to talk about his company, it could only be because he’d made the short list of potential buyers. He motioned for Constanzo to walk before him. “Lead the way.”
They headed for the door but Constanzo stopped suddenly. “Vivi, you come, too.”
Olivia squirmed on her chair. “Oh, I don’t think you need me in there.”
“Of course, we do.” He inclined his head toward the door. “Come.”
Tucker’s eyes narrowed. He had no idea why Constanzo wanted her in the room, but one didn’t argue with a billionaire who wanted to deal. “Sure, Vivi, come.”
Olivia smiled sheepishly and rose to follow them. Constanzo barreled ahead, but Tucker waited. Before Olivia reached the door, he caught her arm and stopped her just short of hearing distance for Constanzo. “Vivi?”
She shrugged. “It’s my nickname. If you’d asked, I’d have let you use it, too.”
With a roll of his eyes, he walked into his office, slid out of his jacket and sat on the sofa beside Constanzo. Vivi took the chair across from them.
Attempting to return the room to its usual dignity and decorum, Tucker said, “I’m thrilled to have you in town.”
“I like New York.”
“You should keep a home here.”
Constanzo laughed. “I intend to enjoy not traveling when I retire.”
Tucker smiled. This was the kind of conversation he expected to have with a billionaire legend. Not a discussion about leftover Chinese food. A feeling of normalcy returned, including the urge to pounce.
Still, he wouldn’t jump the gun. He’d continue the small talk until Constanzo brought up the subject of his conglomerate again.
“You might try something like staying in Italy for six months and living in New York six months.”
He waved a hand and blew out a “pfft” sound. “Retirement is supposed to be about no plans.” He stopped, smiled at Olivia, then turned his attention to Tucker. “Maria tells me you want my company.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I have something I want, too. If you get it for me, I will negotiate exclusively with you for my conglomerate.”
Dumbfounded, Tucker fought a wave of shock. “So there wouldn’t be a short list? There would just be me?”
“For a year.” Constanzo laughed. “Even you have to admit if we can’t come to terms in a year, then there is no deal. But we will negotiate fairly because I want to retire next year. You will find me amicable.”
Fighting a feeling that this was too good to be true, or that there had to be a big, ugly catch, Tucker asked, “What do you want me to get for you?”
“You and three others expressed interest in my company.”
Tucker had figured as much, so he inclined his head.
“I checked all of your financials, then hired a private investigator.”
Not surprised by the review of his financials, but a bit put off by the P.I., Tucker said, “To see who could come up with the financing?”
“No. To see who can bring my son home to me.”
Tucker narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t a catch. It was a trick. “You don’t have a son.
