That girl is so gone for her man. I don’t believe for a second that Marco is just my chauffeur. My cousin AJ might take me for a fool, but there’s no way he’s entrusting me to the bustling streets of New York City without some sort of protection. He may think he’s duped me, but I spotted the telltale symbol of Marco’s family connection on his medallion. I just need to find the right time to verify my suspicions. Now is not that time. I need tonight to go off without a hitch, and then I want to celebrate with delicious cocktails, dancing, and a good fucking time. Maybe in all senses of the word.
You deserve this. You’ve worked hard for this. You’ve got this.
By the time we arrive at Le Sip, the sadness that threatened to rain on my parade has passed. Belting out some car karaoke helped, though I’m not sure Marco’s eardrums agree, but whatevs. He’s probably just delighted I’m not subjecting him to“audio porn” as he refers to the romance audiobooks I make him play while he drives me around town. Of course I could just listen with my headphones, but where’s the fun in that? I’m sure he’ll reap the benefits of his newfound knowledge.
By the time I set foot in the luxe Parisian-inspired bar, I’m buzzing with excitement and nerves too. Not just because of what tonight means for my career and independence, but because as I scan the room, my eyes are instantly drawn tohim. Like a moth to a flame. There, in the back corner of the dimly lit room, sits Raf at the far end of the table looking ruggedly handsome yet exuding that elite GQ-esque appeal. The lowlight dances along his razor-sharp features. High cheekbones. Straight nose. Strong jawline. His dark hair is tousled, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Mine twitch to do the same. When I finally settle my gaze on his face, my pulse speeds up. Dark, almond-shaped eyes, almost the color of the inky-black night sky, glint over the rim of the scotch glass. His lips delicately straddle the fine rim of the crystal. I give him a sultry smirk, which he doesn’t even acknowledge before he diverts his eyes away from my heavy gaze, continuing his conversation with Seb and Luca, who sit on either side.
His indifference prickles. At least if he glared at me like he did that first day, I would know I made him feel something. But that detached aloofness burns like frostbite. Steeling myself, I square my shoulders and strut towards the table, Stella, Evie, and Sophia all in tow. Marco isn’t far behind. We all settle, and as promised, Marco sticks to his word of giving me a proper introduction.
“Luca, Seb, Raf, this is Chiara, AJ’s cousin.”
“Hey, kid,” jokes Seb.
I laugh at the inside joke, without missing a beat or the way Raf’s jaw tenses at his brother’s slight jibe.
Instead of going for the jugular the way I want to for Raf’s refusal to meet my eye, I go along with the joke, but more playfully, hoping my one last-ditch effort will appeal to some shred of humor I’m sure exists in that statuesque body. The muscular chest I can see beneath the cream knit stretched across it, hardened and honed by exercise. I suspect he’s trained his heart to match. Except the thick wall around it has been shaped by betrayal and hurt. I should know. Hurt people, hurt people. He can try to hide it, but I see the mistrust forever present in his assessing gaze. The way he even holds his flesh and blood at arm’s length. I see his black clouds clear as day because like attracts like.
“I’ll have you know, Sebby-baby, I’ve done some growing up since we last saw each other. I’ll be on my best behavior tonight. I don’t want to upset our elders.”
Seb snickers, and even though Raf doesn’t so much as flick his attention my way, I see the twitch of his mouth and the way his brow pulls up. Like he wants to bite back, but in not doing so he proves a point of his assessment of me. I’m just a fool—and not one he’s willing to suffer.
I internally curse myself.Dammit! You just can’t help yourself!
“Hello, Raf, good to see you again,” I say, holding out my hand to him.
“I wish I could say the same, but unfortunately I don’t tell lies.”
Is this how we’re going to play it, Big Bad Raf?
“Then how did an old man like you get a hall pass for tonight? Clearly your vision is on the brink considering you shouldn’t be out past the nursing home curfew.” The jugular is well and truly my target now.“Don’t worry—I’m all for age gap, sugar daddy romances. Just ask Marco.”
Seb and Luca both crack up.
“Please do not bring me into this. I am strictly a one-Sophia man. No why choose shit,” Marco says, drawing Sophia into his body like he can’t function without her.“Thank God we’ve moved on from four-way fucking.”
“I’m all about those sexy, rich older doms now,” I say. “So there’s hope for you yet, Big Bad Raf.”
The column of his neck jumps as the last sip of his drink goes down the wrong way. He tries to hide it by clearing his throat.
You want to play that game? Then choke on that. Now, just give me something.
“Do you always say the first thing that comes into your head?” he says, slamming down his glass and signaling to someone behind me for another.
There he is.
“I fucking love you, Chiara,” exclaims Luca, slapping the spot next to him.
Moving to sit next to him, I give him a friendly kiss hello. One on each cheek.
“Don’t worry about this grumpy shit,” he says, lightly shoving Raf in the shoulder. “I told him he just needs to get laid.”
“For the record, thisold manis more than fucking ready to go home,” he says evenly. “I didn’t want to go to this stupid photography exhibition anyway. But here we are.”
Stupid photography exhibition, hey. Tell me how you really feel, Raf.
“Hey! Our girl here has her pho—” Luca starts, but I clamp my hand to his thigh and give it a warning squeeze. To his credit, he stops talking immediately and gives me a quizzical look.
“I don’t want to make a big deal of it. And I don’t want my cousin knowing,” I whisper. “I only told the girls today, but clearly Arabella has loose lips.”
