Page 26 of Stroke of Luck

“Are you here to add your endorsement to Governor Talbot’s re-election campaign?”

“Is it true that you’re getting married?”

“Who is that woman with you? Is she your fiancée?”

Just when I'm worried they’ll rush us, a group of men dressed in all black suits creates a circle around us, pushing the media back. I know I resented the bodyguards earlier, but now I’m forever thankful to them for being here to keep us safe. The noise, the lights, the swarm of people around us is overwhelming and not at all what I’d been prepared for. Othello keeps me tucked against his side with his arm wrapped around my waist, head held high like the king of the underworld he is. The others flank behind us, brushing off attempts to get closer to us or get better pictures. One reporter jumps out of the bushes by the hotel door, shoving his camera in my face.

“Ma’am, are you Mr. Lastra’s latest fling, or are we to believe that he’s truly settling down?” he demands, holding a voice recorder on his other hand as the flash keeps blinding me.

Before I even know how to react, Remo’s there, grabbing the man by the back of his jacket and hauling him away, but not before he smashes his camera against the concrete, shattering it into pieces.

“What the fuck, man?!” I hear the reporter shouting as Othello guides me inside. “Do you know how much that costs? They don’t provide shit like that for us, that came out of my own pocket!”

Once in the lobby, I can’t stop shaking with the adrenaline coursing through my body. Don’t get me wrong, people and crowds don’t bother me—it’s the fact I’m not sure if they want to take my picture or stab me that has me on edge. They’re far more aggressive than I ever could have anticipated, believing that all the movies and TV shows have been exaggerating.

“I’m sorry, baby girl, I should have prepared you for that better. I didn’t think it would be this bad. Normally they don’t get so riled up,” Othello murmurs in my ear as he helps me pull my jacket off, kissing my shoulder.

“Boss, we got a problem,” Giorgi blurts as he cuts us off from walking out of the coat room. “Skyler’s parents are back, and they broke the news that you two are engaged. Seems that Signora Leto had one more card to pull on us to make sure this thing really happens.”

I blanch at his words, but not for the reason one would think. I have no idea where things stand between my parents and me. They could lie and tell me anything about the past four years, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict them. I’m not normally one to panic, but this for some reason puts me over the edge of things I can handle.

Then Giorgi’s there, cupping my face gently. I can see his lips moving, but I don’t hear a word he says, my brain roaring with the need to leave. Then he kisses me, biting at my lower lip, causing me to grunt with the sharp pain of it bringing the world back to focus.

“Come on sweetheart, thata girl, come back to me,” Giorgi whispers, rubbing his thumbs along my cheeks. “We’ve got you. No one can mess with you—not with us around.”

I take a deep, shaky breath as his words soothe me, pulling me out of my panic.

“There she is.” He smiles, placing a soft kiss on my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. “What happened, hmm?”

Giorgi pulls me into a hug and I rest my cheek on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, my parents and I don’t have the best relationship. They’re always trying to get me to be who they want me to be, but I’m nothing close to that. I can’t remember the past four years, and I don’t want them to take something from me just because I can’t remember. Every step has been a battle to get where I want to be, and something tells me I did, that I got free from their hold on my life. I can’t give it back to them.”

Another hand rests on the back of my head, kneading my scalp and causing me to relax into Giorgi even more. “Baby girl, don’t you remember the contract we signed? There is nothing your parents can do to you. You’re mine—ours—and we are the only ones who can decide our future. I don’t give a fuck who they are or what power they hold, I will not let anyone force us into something we don’t want. You hear me?”

Shifting, I look up at Othello and his fierce green eyes, trusting he means every word he’s just spoken. “I hear you.”

“Good, now we are not going to let them ruin our evening. Besides, I have a surprise for you once this is all over,” Othello shares with a sly hint of a smile.

“Damn you, how the hell do you know I love surprises?!” I mutter, taking his outstretched hand.

“A man never discloses his sources,” Othello answers, tucking my arm around his before we enter the gala.

The ballroom is decorated in a simple elegance that makes me appreciate whoever designed the look with creams, golds, and crystal. The ballroom itself has a very Victorian feel to it with the sconces, woodwork, and gold trim, adding to the character. Men and women all dressed in far grander evening wear than I are floating about the room, chatting with one another with cocktails in their hands. Servers wander around with food and drinks, reminding me that if I want a drink, I need to eat something - according to the alcohol police.

An older man, wearing a sharp navy suit, spots us and walks over right away. I would guess he’s somewhere in his fifties, but the stress of his life or job seems to have aged him faster. His wide smile appears… it’s obvious he’s plastered it on when he wasn’t happy to see someone—fake it till you make it, I guess.

“Othello, I’m so glad you made it!” the man who I’m assuming to be Governor Talbot says, reaching out and shaking Othello’s hand with both of his. “Ah, this must be the future Mrs. Lastra. I’m Harold Talbot, governor of this great state of Illinois.”

He attempts to shake my hand, but Othello diverts his attention back to himself. “It would seem my future in-laws didn’t get the memo that we weren’t ready to announce that as of yet.”

Talbot’s eyebrows shoot up at this. “Oh? Well, unfortunately they made a rather large ordeal about it, bringing the press in on it as well. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was all over the nine o’clock news.”

“Hmm, might you point me in their direction? I promise I’ll be back to chat with you. I’m just going to hand Skyler off to one of the others so she’s not bored with all the shop talk,” Othello assures, giving the man the fakest smile I’ve ever seen.

“Of course. The last time I saw them they were talking to Senator Daniels on the other side of the champagne tower,” Governor Talbot shares, giving me a smile and nodding to Othello.

I clutch his arm as we wander through the crowd, pausing every so often for me to grab some finger foods along the way. If I don’t have a least one drink before confronting my parents, I’m going to do something stupid, so I need to eat.

Then I spot them. My mother is hard to miss in her black and gold art deco style gown and bright red hair that falls around her shoulders. Next to her, my father’s dressed in a finely tailored suit, his hair and goatee neat and tidy, streaks of his once black hair running through the silver that has taken over. They don’t see us yet, and I lock up, causing Othello to stop and look down at me with a frown. Before he can say anything, I let go of his arm and snatch two glasses of champagne, chugging them both back to back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.