Motherfucking AJ.Breathe, Chiara.I fix my face into a beatific smile so it doesn't betray me. I don’t want my mafia connections to scare Natalia out of giving me the job. I let my pain-in-the-ass cousin have his moment before making introductions to the rest of the group.
“Everyone, this is my cousin, AJ,” I say waving a hand towards him.
Dressed in all-black, hair styled back and knuckles covered in tattoos, he’s danger incarnate. Women fall for the bad boy. Men fear him. Me? I want to hate him for being overbearing, mouthy, and robbing me of basking in the glory of getting my dream job in peace. But, ultimately, I owe a lot of it to him. If it wasn’t for him vouching for me, I wouldn’t be here at all. I just hope Natalia doesn’t say?—
“You just let me know your start date, Chiara, and I’ll have my EA sort out all the paperwork you’ll need to complete. Then we can get your sponsorship sorted so you can stay in New York,” Natalia says with a warm smile. “It would be great to have you on board for a major shoot we have coming up.”
Oh god.One, two—here we go.
“Excuse me, what?” hisses AJ. “What the fuck is she talking about, sponsorship and staying in New York?”
“Natalia, please excuse my cousin’s antics. He doesn’t like to feel left out,” I say, trying to use humor to deflect from his outburst. The match has been lit now, so I might as well stand in its flame. “You have all my details. Send over everything you require me to complete and I’ll get it done. I’d love to start as soon as possible.”
“Excellent,” she says, grabbing my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I better keep mingling. But it was lovely to see you all here,” she says looking out at the rest of my friends.
“Do you always need to be so fucking uncouth?” I hiss at my cousin. I’m trying to remain strong, but I can feel it. The vibration of panic under my skin. The slow creep of the melancholy that’s always just in the periphery. Seeping like spilled red wine on your favorite white rug.
“You think you’re moving to New York? Over my dead body,” he huffs.
“Guess I’m just gonna have to kill you then,” I snip venomously even as my automatic traumatic response threatens to poison this moment. I’ve managed to stave off the inevitable sweats and racing heart that follows when this panicked feeling sets in, but right now, I’m dangerously close to giving into my distressed response. I lift my hand to signal a server for Champagne. I need alcohol. All the alcohol. I expect my cousin to be the next person to speak; instead it’s Raf’s stern and authoritative voice pulling me back from the edge of my doom spiral.
“If you’re moving to New York, you need to make sure you have all your sponsorship and immigration papers filled correctly, or you could risk deportation.”
The imposing melancholy morphs into murderous rage. Oh, now you want to insert yourself and deign to acknowledge my existence?!
“Thanks, Daaaad,” I clap back. “For your information, I’m working on it. But I’ll let you know if I require your legal services.”
“As you wish,” he says, unaffected, like he hasn’t just witnessed a car crash.
Then if that’s not enough, he gives me whiplash for good measure.
“For what it’s worth, your photography is captivating. You have natural talent.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t give two shits about your opinion.”
I’m done playing nice. I’ve reached my limits. We continue our stare-off. But as usual, like all the men in my god-forsaken family, AJ must have the last word.
“We’ll be having a fucking conversation about this, Chi,” he commands. “When my dad hears about this, you won’t need a lawyer; you’ll need Jesus.”
Then all eyes are on us for all the wrong reasons. A Ken-doll-looking guy who appears to have seen the other side of someone’s fist offers his unsolicited advice. At the sound of his snively voice, the waitress delivering my drink drops the flute with my liquid gold, and it shatters with a high-pitched crash. AJ chases after the runaway waitress, only to return not too long after to snarl in Ken doll’s face. If I had to hazard a guess, looking at the rage vibrating off Marco and AJ and this Arty guy’s busted lip and the purplish-blue bruises that mar his face, I’d say he’s had the not-so-pleasure of meeting the fist of someone inthe family, if you know what I mean. He doesn’t seem to have much favor with any of the Princi men, either, considering their mirrored defensive stances and hardened stares.
Just. Fucking. Wonderful. Not for the first time tonight or in my entire life have I wished I could buy an entirely new identity. Maybe use prosthetics to alter my appearance—The Day Of The Jackaltype shit. But alas, all I have is a once-in-a-lifetime job offer in my dream city, a family name that puts it all at jeopardy, and unsolicited legal advice from the grumpy lawyer, who, for whatever reason, has burrowed his way so far under my skin and too close to my heart for comfort. I’ve had far too little alcohol to deal with this. So my only mission from here on out tonight is tofind enough to make these damn problems disappear. Even if for a few hours of bliss.
Chapter Ten
Diversion Tactics
Raf
I should’ve just gone homelike I threatened at Le Sip. That would have been the smartest thing to do. As if Juliette’s rejection wasn’t enough to make me want to shun any more socializing, things went from awkward to bad to worse at the photography exhibition. The one I called dumb.
The same one proudly displaying Chiara’s photography. If I’d known, I would have been even more adamant about not coming. Or more careful with my choice of words. My attempt to smooth over my carelessness with a compliment only earned me more vitriol and a death glare.Fuck.
I’d like to blame my loyalty to Marco for continuing the night at Bella Donna with the rest of the group for the afterparty, but I know it’s concern for how things might pan out for a certain pint-sized, dark-haired tornado who has already drunk her weight in Champagne and, if my count is right, is now on her third cocktail.
As his client, Chiara is really Marco’s problem, but I know his head is on other things right now. My sixth sense told meI needed to be here. It’s the voice I always trust, even if, for whatever reason, it keeps pushing me towards forbidden fruit.
Ensconced on the velvet couch in the VIP area with Marco by my side, we have a direct view of the bar and dance area. He watches my sister like a hawk, and as her boyfriend, rightly so. Unfortunately, I can’t help but mimic his actions, without any reason to do so. Chiara means nothing to me, but she grates on my every thought like the feeling of a sock slipping in your shoe. I shouldn’t be worrying about her, let alone allowing her to have this amount of pull on me.
