Paolo’s Pride: A Bad Boy Romance (Sinful Series) Read online

  Paolo’s Pride

  A BAD BOY ROMANCE

  Sinful Series

  By:

  Scott Wylder

  Table of Contents:

  Also By Scott Wylder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Copyright © 2018 by Scott Wylder

  All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited, and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Also By Scott Wylder

  Good Guy Gone Bad

  Kitchen Heat

  One Day in Vegas

  Temptations

  Alpha Passion BOX SET

  The Bad Boy Biker

  The Black Mountain Bikers Series

  Benefits of Friendship

  Falling for the Dragon

  Trigger Happy

  Hard Miles Ahead

  Chapter 1

  Paolo Francesco Peretti

  Smiling, Paolo stood on the balcony overlooking his grand dining hall and all his guests—rich and not-so-rich alike. It warmed his heart to see all of them enjoying the food of his new chef—his latest addition to his collection of the finest money can buy items on his property. Some of his guests were envious of his wealth and his ability to collect the finest items in the world. Those were the people he liked having as guests more than the others, who merely enjoyed his things.

  Paolo hardly ever ate with his guests, instead, he opted for the much more attractive duty of looking down upon the guests as they ate and spoke so highly of him and his wealth and his things. That always boosted his mood and stroked his ego, which he knew was large.

  Francesco had worked hard for his entire life, rising before dawn and going to bed late every day—there were no days off, vacations, or just lazy days for Paolo’s father. He’d watched his father build an empire around the fruits of his continual labor and had also watched as his father grew old before his time and die far too young. Paolo decided, on the day of his father’s funeral, that he would do things differently. After all, the money rolled in month after month, keeping the bank account fatter than most, so why not live easy and enjoy the money?

  Paolo hired many hands to work his vineyard, press the grapes, make the wine, bottle the wine, and ship the wine. All he had to do was go to a few annual public shows in which he was doing what he did best—showing off his wealth and wine-making savvy for everyone to envy. He was proud to be a Peretti and even prouder to be a very, very rich Peretti whom everyone looked up to, envied.

  Standing on the indoor balcony, taking in the scene below, he could pick out bits and pieces of conversations, but not a lot. It was fine; he knew what most of them were saying, anyway. He leaned onto the railing and scanned the large group. A beautiful, young woman sat at the middle of the first long table, facing him. He didn’t know her, though she looked slightly familiar.

  As he watched, he saw that she wasn’t chatting with the other guests, and, indeed, she wasn’t eating much. Did she not enjoy the food of his Master Chef from France? He’d traveled to Paris to find the best of the best and had come home with Master Chef Jean Baptiste Dubois.

  She was the only person at any table who seemed to want to be somewhere else; anywhere else but there from the looks of it. She kept checking her watch and looking around as if expecting someone, or something to signal that it was okay for her to make her getaway.

  “Tomas, come here.” He motioned over his shoulder to his personal butler, who was never more than a few yards away.

  Tomas stepped up beside him. “Yes, sir?”

  Holding out his glass of wine, Paolo tipped it in the beautiful woman’s direction. “Who is that gorgeous creature seated at my table, Tomas? I don’t remember inviting anyone so beautiful.”

  “I’m sorry to say that I don’t know who she is, sir.” Tomas looked disinterested and aloof—that’s part of why Paolo hired the man, though; his ability to seem disinterested, distant, even cold at times was appealing and the exact opposite of Paolo’s nature.

  “Well, Tomas. Why don’t you go find out who she is, hmm?” He waved Tomas away with the flick of his fingers.

  “Of course, sir.” The manservant disappeared down the spiraling staircase.

  Paolo watched as Tomas appeared at the side of the young lady, spoke to her, she responded, he nodded, and walked back to the staircase. The young woman looked up at Paolo from her seat. There was no smile on her face and she still seemed eager to be elsewhere. Paolo smiled and tipped his glass at her. She tucked a strand of that long, black, wavy hair behind her ear and gave him a very small, very quick smile and then looked away again.

  Tomas appeared again at his side and Paolo stood to face his butler. “Yes? What news, Tomas?” Paolo was impatient to know the name of the beauty at his table.

  “Sir, she says her name is Sofia Aurora Romano.” Tomas, his dead level stare, meeting Paolo’s own.

  “Is that all she said, Tomas?” Such a beautiful name to match such a beautiful woman.

  “Yes, sir. That’s all I asked of her just as you instructed me to do.”

  Rolling his eyes, Paolo sighed. “You’re right, of course. Thank you, Tomas. Now go be stoic somewhere else for a while, would you?” That his manservant showed no more initiative than that annoyed Paolo a bit. Then again, he couldn’t have his servants running around doing their own thinking while they were on the clock; it would be unwise to allow that.

  Finishing his large glass of wine, Paolo decided to mingle with his guests, since it seemed that many of them had finished their meals. He balanced the wine glass on the balcony railing and grinned back at Tomas as he headed for the staircase. He knew it annoyed Tomas for anything to be balanced on the skinny railings of the balconies—especially the ones indoors.

  Descending the stairs quickly, Paolo laughed as he caught sight of Tomas snatching the glass from the railing before following him. Did he go out at night with friends and complain about what an asshole Paolo had been that day at work? Laughing again, Paolo thought he probably did exactly that; the man had to get it off his chest somehow to be able to remain so unmoved at work.

  Romano, Romano, Romano. I know that name from somewhere, but Sofia Aurora Romano I can’t place. She is a true beauty, though. She would fit nicely in my collection of the finest things in the world.

  Paolo reached the bottom of the stairs and walked to the last table to greet some of his father’s friends whom he’d invited so they could see that Francesco’s money was indeed being used wisely. The fat wealthy men and their well-heeled snooty wives were always welcome in his home so long as he could impress them with fine things.

  He shook a few hands and moved on, skipping the middle table and going straight to Sofia’s table. He had to meet her, greet her; he’d already wined and dined her, so now it was time to do the face-to-face thing, which he liked to think he was good at.

  Chapter 2

  Sofia Aurora Romano

  This was the last time Sofia would take her mother’s place to an event. The host, Paolo Peretti, was a spoiled rich kid playing at being a rich adult and, in her opinion he didn’t know how to be a rich adult. The lavish, foolishly expensive chef from France, the most expensive servants, the best cars money could buy, the best furniture, the most expensive and
exotic pets allowed, even the plates and silverware were touted as being the best in the world and she thought it all pretentious foolishness on Paolo’s part.

  To keep from embarrassing her mother, who worked for Paolo’s mother a few years before, Sofia stayed until other guests began to mingle and walk around the enormous dining hall—a new addition since her mother had worked there. She hadn’t been able to stomach the food, Master Chef or not, the man’s food was borderline disgusting. She gagged at the first bite of everything served except the French Onion soup, which she tolerated very well considering how awful the rest had been.

  Standing, hoping to blend in with some of the guests, Sofia made her way to the door through which she’d entered. She wanted to be back home, resting her feet on her day off from work, not milling around with a bunch of rich snooty people.

  Easing out the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least her car was in sight and leaving the property and the parading Paolo behind was closer than it had been ninety minutes ago.

  A man called from a covered portico on the second floor of the house as she reached her car. “Sofia! Wait a minute. I’d like to speak with you.”

  It was Paolo. “I really must be going. I have…somewhere to be. Thank you for the dinner.” She opened her door and got under the wheel.

  Paolo appeared in front of her car before she could put it in gear and drive away. Grunting with displeasure, she took off her sunglasses and rolled down her window. Couldn’t he see that she was so obviously not interested in talking to him?

  “Hey! I just wanted to talk to you for a minute. I don’t seem to remember you, though you do look somewhat familiar. Tomas says your name is Sofia Aurora Romano.” He held out his hand.

  Nodding, Sofia forced a smile. Reluctantly, she offered her hand to him. He immediately kissed the back of it; not what she was expecting at all. She withdrew her hand and rubbed the back of it against her dress inconspicuously.

  “Yes, that’s right. You actually invited my mother but she was ill and unable to attend so she asked me to come in her place. I hope that was all right.” She really didn’t care if it was or not; if he threw her off his property, she at least didn’t have to worry about ever coming back for any reason.

  Smiling, he winked at her. “It’s more than all right, Sofia.” He leaned on his forearms against the place where the window had been moments before. He was right in her face.

  She pushed away from him, feeling awkward at his uninvited closeness. Were they on a first-name basis with one another? She didn’t give permission to be called Sofia by him or anyone else there. The familiarity in his tone annoyed her. She’d see how he liked it if she called him by his first name.

  He was very handsome, but he was also vain. His looks were the kind that were groomed into perfection so that he looked like a GQ model; she didn’t like it even though she thought he was handsome.

  “Well, in that case, thank you, Paolo.”

  She smiled her best smile at him as the expression morphed and changed, finally settling back to refined and groomed. At least there’d been a change in expression; at least she knew it had affected him that she’d flipped the table and used his first name without even trying to be polite and show respect that most rich people in his circle demanded. Especially from the poorer people like herself and her mother.

  “Wouldn’t you like to stay for the after-dinner party? It gets really fun around sunset and I think you’d enjoy it.” Paolo held his smile and waited.

  “I don’t really think so. Sorry.”

  She couldn’t keep the displeasure from her face as she looked around the grounds. His father had been a hard worker and so had his mother; Sofia would bet her next paycheck that Paolo never worked hard a day in his life. His overindulgence in material things, his pride in his own wealth and status was distasteful.

  “I’m sorry to hear that; really. The party will be missing something special in your absence.” He stood, still with that perfect smile pressed into place, showing just the right amount of his perfect teeth to be beautiful. “I was wondering…who exactly is your mother; Romano isn’t ringing any bells for me for some reason. Of course, I made the guest list myself but that was three months ago at least.”

  Ooh! So flippant, so nonchalant; who didn’t remember the guests they invited to such extravagant events? Clearing her throat and averting her eyes so that he wouldn’t see the immediate anger, Sofia said, “Martina Chiara Romano. She worked as your mother’s personal assistant years ago.” She couldn’t force a smile without feeling trite so she didn’t try.

  Paolo stood there mouthing her mother’s name repeatedly for some seconds. Growing impatient, Sofia said, “I really must be going now. I need to see about my mother.”

  His attention snapped back to her. “Of course, I hope she is on the mend soon. Are you certain you won’t return for an evening of guaranteed fun here?” He motioned to the courtyard where little lights were winking on as dusk began to creep over the land.

  Sofia shook her head.

  “I’ll give you a tour of the mansion, a tour of the grounds, show you my private collection of items from all over the world—you know, of course, each item is the best that money can buy.” His grin widened and his eyes twinkled.

  Did he think he was being cute? Did he think he could woo her with all his pretentious, rich kid bullshit? Her cheeks flushed with heat.

  “I’m sorry, but the answer is still no. I don’t even know why you would invite my mother to something like this. She would have been the only working-class woman here. Did you do it to embarrass her? Were you hoping to woo her with all your money—none of which you actually worked to earn? I’m sorry. I must go now.” Angrily, she rolled up her window without waiting for his response and jammed the car into gear, pulling out much faster than she intended.

  Chapter 3

  Expanding His Private Collection

  Paolo watched Sofia speed away. Why would she turn down his personal invitation to his party? Everyone raved about how awesome his parties were—live bands, and not the local yokels who were just starting out, either; sometimes, as tonight, there would be a full opera going on. He had a proper stage built months earlier and had worked on hiring opera house workers to perform for him a total of three times a year for the foreseeable future. It had cost him a small fortune to acquire all the things necessary for the event; did Sofia not know this? Was she just upset because her mother was ill? Did she have a personal vendetta against him that he didn’t know about or was she like that with all people?

  He would’ve taken her angry outburst much more to heart if she’d been ugly and he knew that. At least he was honest with himself. He turned and walked back toward the house, and there, in the shade of one of the columns, stood Tomas.

  “Tomas, I want you to find out everything you can about Miss Sofia Aurora Romano. God, that name just rolls off the tongue so beautifully, doesn’t it? I simply must add her to my collection of the finest things in the world, Tomas.” He clapped Tomas on the shoulder.

  “What things do you wish to know about her, sir?”

  His stoic expression was strained. That was good; it just meant he was human after all.

  “Everything. Her address, her phone number, her tag number, everything, Tomas! I must make her mine.” He looked in the direction her car had gone moments earlier.

  Clearing his throat and looking at the ground momentarily, Tomas said, “Sir, I don’t think you can add people to your collection of finest things in the world.”

  Laughing, Paolo said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Tomas! Of course, I can. Haven’t you met Master Chef? This is no different, except she would be on my arm and in my bed.”

  He laughed and walked away, leaving Tomas to his own thoughts on the matter. That was the silliest thing he’d ever heard. Money could buy anything and anybody—he had learned that lesson rather well over the last three years.

  ***

  That evening when the opera was over a
nd the guests had gone, Paolo retired to his library office on the second floor. It was his favorite room in the house when he was alone. There was liquor and wine, fresh fruit and cheeses always set out for him, and he could make or receive calls, read a book—which he didn’t do often anymore, or just relax as he sat on the veranda and looked out over his lush property.

  At the opera, he’d seen one of his occasional girlfriends; she was beautiful and the things she could do in the bedroom were unmatched in all of Italy. He would know, too, he’d had women all over the country and quite a few from other countries.

  Every time he flipped to her phone number in his little book, something made him put the phone back in its cradle, though. Confused, he poured more wine and sat in the semi-darkness, listening to the wind rustle through the Tuscan countryside. It was a peaceful scenario, but he was anything but peaceful. Sofia weighed on his mind heavily. Too heavily for his liking. He wanted her and he was determined to have her, no matter the cost.

  Tomas entered the room and handed Paolo a sheet of paper with typewriter-neat handwriting filling its lines to the margins.

  “It’s the information you requested about Miss Romano, sir.”

  Tomas’ expression was tight and looked even more forced than it had earlier. Paolo grinned at the servant.

  “Good man, Tomas. Thank you for your quick and diligent work. I see a little bonus for you in the near future.” He waved Tomas off and flipped on a reading lamp beside his chair.

  As he read the particulars about his Miss Perfection, he was shocked. It seemed that she worked as a waitress and cared for her ailing mother in a tiny apartment only a few miles away from Paolo’s lavish mansion. Miss Romano was a poor girl; had been raised poor and was now even less fortunate as her mother was unable to work. All the expenses fell to Sofia to deal with in whatever way she could.