The Tyrant (Banker #3)(2)

Siena sat across from me at the dining table. She’d finished most of her dinner then sipped her water. Her belly was getting so big that she had to sit farther away from the table so she wouldn’t accidentally bump it. “When are we putting up the Christmas tree? Christmas is a week away.”

I finished my last bite of the salmon and washed it down with a sip of water. “We don’t put up a tree.”

Dumbfounded, she stared at me like I’d said something much worse. “Excuse me?”

“We don’t put up any decorations.”

“Because…?” Her eyebrow was still raised, and she looked utterly appalled.

“Because we don’t,” I said simply. “Never have.”

“What’s wrong with you?” she blurted. “It’s Christmas. You have to put up a tree.”

I never got invested in the holidays. My family got together for Christmas dinner and exchanged a few gifts, but we didn’t make a big fuss about it. Christmas eve was the best night to pick up tail. Any woman in a bar on Christmas eve was depressed, and she fucked like being good in bed would fix all her problems. “Why?”

She threw her arms down. “Because it’s Christmas. That’s what you’re supposed to do. I always have a tree up at my place even though there are very few presents under it. It’s the spirit of the season.”

“Well, you know I don’t have much spirit.”

“What about Giovanni and the rest of the staff? They’d probably like a tree.”

“I don’t care what Giovanni and the rest of the staff want. This is my house.”

She rolled her eyes. “Grinch.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Grinch,” she said louder. “You know, that big green thing that lives in a cave alone and hates Christmas.”

“Just because I don’t put up a tree doesn’t make me a big green hamster.”

“He’s not a hamster.”

“Whatever.” I drank my water again.

“Well, I live here too, and I want a tree.” She turned to the kitchen. “Giovanni, you’d like a tree too, right?”

Giovanni’s eyes moved back and forth between mine and hers, as if he didn’t want to answer for fear of retaliation from either of us. “I need to check the oven…” He walked off.

“See?” I said. “He doesn’t want a tree.”

“Oh yes, he does. He just doesn’t want to piss you off.”

“Smart man.”

“Cato, I want a tree.” She looked me in the eye as she made her demand, using that sexy confidence to get what she wanted. “When Martina is here, we’re going to have wonderful Christmases for her to remember. We’re going to do it then, so we may as well do it now.”

“Why is this so important to you?”

“Because my family always used to get into the spirit of the holidays. We would up put the tree together every year. Even Landon would help. Why are you so against it?”

“I’m not. It’s just something I’ve never done. Never had time.”

Disappointment filled her eyes. “What’s the point of working so hard if you don’t stop to enjoy it? If you doubled the amount of money in your account, would you really be happy? Or would you be unhappier because you’d realize that nothing makes you happy?”

She often made such sharp observations about my character, and they always made me reflect on who I was. It made me realize how lonely I was, how all the money and all the women in the world hadn’t made me happy. So far, there was only one thing that ever made me smile—and I was looking at her. “It’s not just about the money. It’s about the accomplishment. It’s about growing something you created.”

“I understand that, but you’re already on top of the world, Cato. Do you really need to grow it anymore?”

“If you aren’t growing, you’re stagnant. And if you’re stagnant, that’s a red flag.”

“But when you’re a multibillionaire, who cares?”

“It keeps everyone in line.”

“That is way too much work,” she said. “There’s not enough money in the world to make me sacrifice my life like that.”

“But it’s given me the ability to take care of you, to give you a luxurious life that makes you feel safe.”

Instead of being touched by what I said, she shook her head slightly like I’d said the wrong thing. “We could be living at my old place, and that would be just fine. As long as we have food on the table and electricity, our happiness would be exactly the same. You could do your share of the work by keeping me warm at night.”

The memory of her house brought me an unexpected bout of longing. There was something about that cozy house I loved. It was simple, peaceful. My estate was a comfortable palace, but it lacked that quality. “Or I could fix your furnace.”

“Like you know how,” she teased. “And paying someone to fix it doesn’t count.”

“I have more talents besides making money.”

“Like sex?” she asked. “I’ll give you that.”

That was quite a personal comment to make in front of Giovanni, but I didn’t care.