“Oh, that’s new. A man who had everything handed to him on a silver platter doubting my abilities. Very original. Usually it’s my parents, but you’ll do as a stand-in.”
Raffi balked, as if he hadn’t insulted her work, as if he’d expected her to keel over at his criticism. She probably shouldn’t have mentioned her parents, but it slipped out.
She wasn’t done yet.
Ani took a step toward him, unafraid. “I built my business from the ground up with no help. It’s hard to turn nothing into something, much less something big. Especially without any”—she looked around purposefully—“financial assistance.” Ani crossed her arms. “Different from your story, I’m guessing?”
“I, I—” Raffi began, flabbergasted. His face steamed pink. Ani was pleased and definitely did not think about how cute his blushing was. It was not the reason she decided to continue her tirade.
“While we’re taking shots,” she said, shaking her head. “Where in the world are your manners? I’ve heard about you, you know. Slick, smooth. And I get I’m not the type of girl you’d normally go after, but wow. Didn’t realize this was how you treated the rest of us.”
Raffi shook himself. “I’m sorry, youheardabout me?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” she said, holding her eye contact strong. Now he knew that she knew precisely who he was.
Just then, a Range Rover drove up, gravel sputtering in its wake breaking Ani and Raffi’s locked gazes on each other. Ani stepped back from him, remembering herself. The brides. She took a deep breath.
Raffi didn’t matter; it’s not like she had to work with him all that much. It was the brides whom she had to impress. They were the ones who would be paying her bills—if she was lucky—not him.
Don’t think about Raffi, don’t think about Raffi, she thought while thinking about Raffi.
The car’s windows were deeply tinted, and almost as soonas it parked, the driver’s door popped open and Grace bounded out. The other bride remained inside, her back turned to them, seemingly on the phone.
Grace trotted over the danger-rocks in her kitten heels without a problem. Raffi gave Ani a “See, they aren’t that tough to traverse” kind of look. Ani rolled her eyes in response while Grace couldn’t see.
Grace gave her a quick hug, and Ani felt the bad vibes from her Raffi interaction melt away. “Ani, hi. So nice to meet you in person at last.”
She was lovely, and true to her name. Taller than Ani would have imagined, willowy. She was, from what Ani had gleaned from her Instagram posts, half Chinese Malaysian and half white, with thick dark hair and striking features. She could see how Grace would star in a movie alongside De Niro.
“And you must be Raffi,” she said, shaking his hand with both of hers.
Grace stared all around her. “I’m already in love with this property. I have to see more.” Grace turned toward the car because her fiancée had not yet emerged, still chuckling during what must have been an amusing phone call. “Babe,” Grace called to her.
Ani heard the fiancée’s voice, muffled from inside the car, saying, “Okay, okay, yallah, bye.” The voice sounded familiar, but it was hard to tell.
Ani started to relax and feel like she could do this. Wedding planning was her bread and butter, one of her greatest joys in life, and she’d give Grace an absolutely fabulous wedding.
Until.
A car door slammed, and from around the hood appeared the second bride-to-be, all curls and sleepy smiles, a face and a body as familiar as Ani’s own.
It was her ex.
It was Kami.
And because Ani could look at nothing but the only person she had ever fallen in love with, she did not notice the shock on Raffi’s face, too.
2
Raffi
Raffi was havinga difficult morning.
First, that siren striding up toward him, the early stirrings of desire rumbling in Raffi’s body, interrupted by her trip, when all he had worried about was preventing her from an awful fall. Then, his brother’s shirt had gotten doused in mossy liquid, and in his stupor and fear about ruining an artifact of Sevan’s, he had said the most idiotic words possible to her, this lovely girl who didn’t deserve it. When she slipped her shoes back on, goddamn, he nearly lost his mind. He didn’t think he was a foot person, but watching the way she eased the curve of her arches into leather turned his mind molten. Burgundy nail polish to match her hands. For some reason, he found himself liking that attention to detail.
He imagined that would be the end of the unfortunate events. A stained shirt—albeit, a sentimental one—the only casualty. But he was wrong.
Of course his father had to see the whole mess, comment on it, and not realize the woman he was with was Armenian and could understand.
