All it takes is the shrill cell ringtone to activate a traumatic response, the guilt of how many unanswered calls my parents made to me before they were ripped from this world consuming me anew.All I can think about with each ring is my parents’ anguish as they frantically tried to reach me, how hope must have bled from them with each attempt to get in touch with me only to get my voicemail, the cheery recorded message I thought was cute at the time, a cruel taunt. It’s this thought that triggers a visceral response each time. My body tenses, and my heart rate picks up speed. Bile churns in the back of my throat, and the burning sensation behind my eyes grows more intense. Breathing exercises help, but sometimes in my weakestmoments, there’s no stopping the grief from swallowing me whole.When the call starts a third time, it’s enough.
“Answer the phone!” I snap.
Marco’s deep voice echoes around us. “Raf, what’s going on?”
He answers the call on his wireless earbuds instead of his car’s Bluetooth. I am intrigued by the man on the other end, so I control the volume of the audiobook from my phone, turning it down. Even with just a hollow whisper through Marco’s earbuds, there’s no missing his commanding response.
“You better be on your way to the office. And if you’re not, turn the car around and get here. We may have a problem.”
It’s the distraction I need from the rising panic I felt earlier. I can’t explain it, but the directness and commanding intonation of this man talking to Marco thrills me in a way I stopped chasing. Marco says nothing, just sets his eyes on the road and locks his jaw; the slight jump tells me he’s grinding his molars given the man on the other end seems to have hung up before he’s had the chance to respond. Unable to help myself, I lean forward, poking my head between the seats and tugging on his sleeve. Marco quickly glances down, and a wicked grin spreads across my face in response. “Please tell me I get to meet Big Bad Raf now.”
Marco simply raises his eyebrows at me as the incessant pinging of notifications reminds me that I saw a message flash up earlier fromKitten. Even without the telling nickname, the way this guy has put up a brick wall to stop every single one of my flirty advances tells me there’s some lucky lady that he’s completely gone for. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together; I may as well give him a crash course in no-filter Chiara.
“Oh, before I forget, you had a whole bunch of messages come through before you got in the car, the last onefrom someone called Kitten. Very cute nickname,” I hum conspiratorially.
He swipes his thumb across his lips as if to wipe away the secretive smile that’s pulling at the corner of his mouth but says nothing more. He goes to touch his phone screen in the holder, but he stops himself, as if the beeping and chaos of Manhattan traffic we’ve just pulled into reminds him it’s probably not safe to do so.
I can’t help but continue to study his features. Piercing green eyes not dissimilar to mine and AJs, strong nose, chiseled jawline. Beyond his extremely good looks, there’s something oddly familiar about this guy, not to mention he’s wearing a necklace that I swear has the Gigioliotti family crest on it. Except when I quizzed him on it earlier, he didn’t give even the slightest indication that he knew the significance of the necklace in my family. Though I didn’t miss the closeness between him and AJ at brunch. My cousin trusts very few people, but it’s clear he has an affinity for Marco and that he’s earned a spot in his inner circle of trust. What’s unclear is why. Something tells me that this guy is not merely some driver; there is something more there, and when I have a quiet moment, Siri and I are going to get to work investigating just who the real Marco is. But before that, I can’t wait to meet the surly sir who’s been blowing up Marco’s phone all morning. I’m itching to have a bit of fun, and something tells me I might have found my number one target.
Chapter Two
FML
Raf
Marco Marrone islike a brother to me, but over the last six months, he’s become my biggest pain in the ass client. Asking me to help him sever business ties with my father is one thing, but it’s the other investment deals he has in motion that have me wondering how much my friend values his life. AJ Gigioliotti is not someone you want to mess around with.
I’ve been going through the paperwork all morning, and I’ve found a loophole that could have resounding ramifications—not only for Marco, but my sister Sophia too. So, yeah, he might be with a client, but I need to see him urgently.
I shake my head as I think about Marco’s obsession with my little sister. Love makes even the smartest men do stupid things, take stupid risks. I’m just thankful that I swore off love for good. There’s no chance I’ll give a woman the power to unravel me again. Been there. Done that. Marco and Seb may top the Most Eligible Bachelor lists, but I am more than content to be a bonafide proponent of the eternal bachelor club.
Once bitten, twice shy.
The loud chirping of my phone pulls me from the paperwork I’m going over for the fifth time. It’s Sophia.
“Hello, Raf. Can you come down and buzz me and Marco up?”
“Why can’t you do it?” I quiz her.
“The floor is locked and I forgot my pass.”
She hangs up before I can ask any more questions, and I huff as I discard my cell and make my way to the elevator. The office is empty, save for me and Sophia, who came in to set herself up before she joins Princi Law & Associates next week as a junior lawyer. She will be working under me, and I can’t help but think that she has no idea what she’s in for. The workload is intense, but it’s the intensity with which I do my job that might break her. My friends constantly joke that I’m married to my work, and while they say it in jest, for me it’s the truth. Besides, the alternative—being actually married—is far worse. So instead of being assaulted by the deafening silence of my empty home, I prefer to be in the office, pouring my energy into my cases and leaving no stone unturned. It’s the work ethic that made me partner at Princi Law & Associates before thirty-five, a fact that’s lauded in legal circles and holds me in high esteem with my father. As the eldest of four, and the one primed to follow in his footsteps. It’s a blessing and a curse.
I call the elevator and step in, roughly jabbing the button to start my descent to the ground floor. The whirring of the elevator mixes with the irritation swirling at the edges of my mood. Irritation that festers partly due to being interrupted in the middle of checking a contract. But also that bothersome gnawing realization deep down that somewhere over the last few years, I lost sight of who I am. When I’m not Lawyer Raf, I’m no one.
I shake my head to shove away the intrusive whisper and set my shoulders, reminding myself this is why I keep busy.Contemplation breeds weakness, and I am not weak. I am Raf mother-fucking Princi.
“About damn time you showed up,” I snap at Marco as he walks towards the elevator. His stormy expression is a warning, so I don’t push further.
Then, turning to my sister, I ask, “Why didn’t you just buzz Marco up if you were already down here?”
“I accidentally forgot my bag in the office.”
“It’s not like you to forget your precious Chanel,” I grumble, but I can’t help noticing she looks upset. Putting two and two together—Marco’s bad mood and Sophia’s red-rimmed eyes—it’s highly likely there’s some drama brewing between them. Yet more proof that relationships are not worth the trouble.
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chit-chat, I’ve got work to do. What are you waiting for?” I ask Marco, who’s holding the door open. I look past him to see a small woman bundled up in the fluffiest coat I’ve ever seen. Her head is down, lost in whatever she’s doing on her phone.
“Excuse me, miss. Are you getting in?” I snip.
