Craving the Mafia Prince

Chapter Two | A Crimson Compromise

Three gasps followed as the wine hit his flawless face, his company in disbelief of my uncivilized act. The wine slid down his handsome features in slow, serpentine patterns tracing the sharp angle of his jaw and soaking into his pristine shirt. The red liquid spread across the fabric in an amoeba-like shape. I could see the top of a tattoo on his robust chest, exposed by the open collar, his tanned skin glistened as the wine dripped onto his heaving torso.

Saying he was livid would be an understatement. His frown deepened and fists clenched so tightly I could see the whites of his knuckles. Before I knew it, his tall imposing frame barely towered over my five-foot-eight height, and I'm quick to perceive the three inch height difference.

Five if I took off my Louboutins.

For a fraction of a second I felt intimidated under his gaze as it pierced through my confident stance. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders and mirrored his glare.

"What was that for?" His voice is deeper, the English accent even stronger, as he speaks.

"That was for calling us incompetent." My voice is steady and unwavering. I stared at him determined to put my points forward, refusing to blink.

"I guarantee you will regret crossing paths with me Mr. Conrad. We are anything but amateur and emotional. We are also so much more capable and insightful than your little designers."

"What are you talking about?" He takes a threatening step forward leaving a hairline gap between our faces, our noses almost touching. Tension filled the air and I instantly smell the vinous aroma on his shirt mixed with his own potent cologne. I could tell it was one of those scents that had advertisements with the hot girl falling for the guy.

Physically, I wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms and play the damsel in distress. Mentally, he was giving me a migraine- the man had the audacity to play dumb after insulting me, my best friend and my business. I wasn't going to back down. Not now, not ever. If he thinks he can walk all over me just because I was a woman then he's in for a rude awakening.

This was a battle and I intended to win.

"My team and I spent weeks designing fabric according to your interests." I poke my finger into his hard chest signifying my vexation. "You've got some balls to say our work isn't up to par."

"I'll have you know my threshold for bullshit is very low." His voice is alarmingly low and commanding.

"As is mine for disrespect." I take out the envelope I had pocketed earlier and fling it onto the table, the bills spilling out.

"Your wealth doesn't give you the right to take people for granted. It also doesn't capacitate you to ridicule Leah or me by labeling us call girls."

He opened his mouth to speak, probably to say something in his defense, but before he can utter a word, I rose my hand silencing him.