“What about her cousin’s house? Wouldn’t it be better if I drop her off there?” I try hard to come up with a solution that will serve as a reminder as to why I need to control my feelings and actions.
“The last thing she would want is for me to alert AJ to this situation,” he says, nodding his head towards her limp body. “After tonight’s reaction to her proposed relocation to New York in front of her new boss, I think I owe her that.” He shakes his head, like he’s silently berating himself.
“Okay. I’ll make sure she sleeps it off and gets home safely tomorrow.” I see a hint of a question in his raised brows, but I don’t indulge him with an answer.
Instead, I nod at him and make my way towards the parking garage where my driver waits, holding more than I bargained for in every sense of the word. Every possible problem and consequence to come from it has this hellion of a woman at its center. Except she looks nothing like that version of herself right now. No, this version of her, soft and safe in my arms, makes her even more dangerous. Not for the first time, I consider why I’m putting myself so close to the fire when I should be doing everything in my power to run as far away as possible. Instead, with Marco’s words ringing in my ears, and with our friends concerned yet bemused expressions on their faces that I of all people oversee her caretaking, I gently place Chiara into the back seat and slide in next to her, putting myself even closer to the inferno.
Chapter Thirteen
Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn You
Raf
I look down at her,taking in the petite sleeping beauty who missed all the street-front commotion, cozy and still very much passed out, except now she is lying across the entire backseat. I could take the front seat. Leave her to sleep comfortably sprawled across the back, but she doesn’t have a belt on, I tell myself. Then I take the argument one step further. And if someone hits us and she’s not wearing a seatbelt, she could get injured.
Objection, shouts the louder voice.Overruled,echoes the same tiny voice from before. Muffled thanks to the way it’s buried so far under the repressed parts of me, the same ones that nudged dormant desires to life since the appearance of this certain someone. Facts I’m not fully ready to acknowledge, but that have me sliding into the back seat,slowly and softly lifting Chiara upright, strapping her in then sitting close enough to let her use my chest as her pillow. My blood boils again at the thought of that douchebag friend of Luca’s she was flirting with all night. How he could just leave her passed out in a toilet stall while he sucked face with another woman. For all the ways she’sgotten under my skin to date, Chiara deserves more fucking respect than that, and when I see that shithead of a guy at one of Luca’s get togethers, I think my fist might tell him as much. Again.
My phone vibrates with a text notification. Plucking it out of my pocket, I see it’s Mr. F1 fancy pants himself.
Best Little Bro Ever:
Hey, is Chi alright? Hudson just told me what happened.
It seems you have shit taste in women and friends.
Best Little Bro Ever:
WTF, bro. No need to go for jugular. He said that you haven’t got the full story and wouldn’t give him a chance to explain. Given this text, I suspect he’s right.
I saw enough. Hudson is a fucking dickhead. No explanation needed. Story over. The end.
Best Little Bro Ever:
Well he’s a good guy. He’s always had my back. Not sure I can say the same for you seeing as you’re turning into Dad without even realizing it. Good luck with that.
Best Little Bro Ever:
Arabella is home if you need to drop Chi off.
She’s staying with me.
Best Little Bro Ever:
Poor her.
*middle finger emoji*
“I am not fucking turning into Dad,” I mutter to myself as tuck my phone away and settle into the seat, feeling anything but settled as my driver carefully meanders towards my home through the misty night. Chiara has draped herself across me, the feel of her heavy on my chest, causing it to swell. It’s a sensation I haven’t felt—or allowed myself to feel—in two years. Even with Juliette, it was transactional, no aftercare. No lying wrapped around each other. No urge like the one I’m fighting now to reach out and stroke the silky strands of her hair, to let them slip through my fingers, maybe even wrap them around my fist and tug.Fuck.
The sound of her murmuring incoherent things interrupts my deviant thoughts. I hear my name and “so hot,” then “so grumpy.”
I chuckle softly. This woman is a hazard to herself, and yet when I look down into her face, I see the anguish that paints her pretty, young features, the unfiltered pain she tries so hard to cover with sunshine and rainbows, big smiles and witty snark. I remember the text from Avery and pull my phone out of my pocket, going into the encrypted app Marco insists we use—I feel like I need a fucking degree to do so, but I listen to him and use it nonetheless.
Avery:
For you. Part relevant. Part revelation.
With one eye still on the Chiara, I open the attachment and quickly scan the transcript. Fuck! It’s what I wanted but also far more than I needed or desired to know.
