The dark-haired woman finally looks up, and a devilish grin spreads across her face as she enters the elevator, not even a little deterred by my surly attitude.
She has piercing emerald eyes that gleam with mischief, and her expression is one of utter glee, like I just handed her the grand prize at the fair instead of impatiently snapping at her to get in the elevator. She’s a tiny thing, but her gaze is imposing in a way that doesn’t match her frame. I swallow thickly, feeling somewhat off-kilter by the intensity of it as she unabashedlyroams her eyes over me top to toe.I’m unsure what to make of the pint-sized brunette, but I don’t shirk away from her assessing gaze.
Suddenly, she waves her fingers in my direction, “Ahhh. You must be the infamous Big Bad Raf.”
I scowl at her, and Marco snorts a laugh. I dart a hard look at him, and he just shrugs his shoulders at me. Even Sophia has a ghost of a smile on her face. I don’t find any of this funny, and I especially don’t like the weird feeling coiling in the pit of my stomach. There’s something about this girl’s confidence and immunity to my surliness that makes me feel off balance. My reputation for being prickly precedes me, but this tiny woman didn’t get the memo. I can feel the heat of her stare still on me, and no one speaks for a moment.
Thankfully, Marco clears his throat and starts talking, helping to dissipate the suffocating tension swirling around us.
“Chiara, this is Raf Princi, my lawyer who urgently needed to see me. Raf, this is Chiara, AJ’s cousin and my client.”
It’s official: My friend has lost his ever-loving mind. If this Chiara girl has been entrusted to his care by AJ, all signs point to Marco entwining himself more deeply with the Gigioliotti family. The very concern that prompted this urgent meeting with him.
Chiara is giving me a defiant stare, like she’s trying to remind me that her family warrants respect. She’s clearly barking up the wrong tree; the further I can keep myself from anything related to her family the better. My friend has already gotten me too close to his business with them. I barely nod my head towards her to acknowledge the introduction, but the devilish expression painting her features—which I will admit are striking, with her large green eyes and pouty lips painted siren red symmetrically set on her heart-shaped face—remains affixed. It’s unnerving.She knows nothing about me, yet she’s acting like she knows all my fucking secrets.
The elevator reaches our floor, and Marco lets the girls out first before we follow. I catch Marco’s eye and simply nod towards my office, indicating for him to follow me. Chiara asks to use the restroom, but I leave my sister to deal with that. Marco and I have bigger problems to deal with.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m in a less-than-stellar mood today, and for some reason that whole interaction in the elevator has me vibrating with annoyance, only made worse when Marco saunters into my office like he doesn’t have a care in the world, a smug smirk on his face. Wordlessly, he takes a seat across from me and steeples his fingers under his chin expectantly, like he knows I’ve been waiting to unleash a tirade. I’m standing behind my desk situated in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that reveal the view of the striking Manhattan skyline, though today it’s blanketed in a gray winter fog. I’m too agitated to sit, so I remain standing, arms braced in front of me on the desk. I ball my hands into fists and release them again a few times, like that might help expel the agitation crawling under my skin. Lifting my head to look Marco directly in the eye, I add in a low tone,“Let me get this straight. That tiny woman wearing some sort of bear as a coat and waving spirit fingers at me is related to AJ Gigioliotti?”
“You’re already on nickname bases with her, so you tell me,” he teases, like any of this is the slightest bit amusing.
“Why the fuck would you bring her with you?” I demand.
“As I tried to explain multiple times when you were blowing up my phone, I’m working. AJ has me doing security detail, including driving her around while she’s in New York. She refused to travel with her uncle’s security, and he can’t use his men here because there’s too much heat on them thanks to the shit going down with the Rizzo family. He was worried thatwould make her more of a target, so he called in a favor with me.”
“Motherfucker.” I growl.
“And, well, you’ve met her,” Marco adds. “It’s like trying to tame a wild horse. As it is, she’s already thrown me a curveball. She’s staying with Arabella Belmont and not at the hotel with twenty-four-hour security that she told her uncle she’d be staying at.”
He thinks my outburst is a reaction to whatever this job is with the girl, but it’s the least of my—and his—worries.
I take a big breath then exhale, trying to temper not only my anger but also the incessant buzz of unease coursing through me.
“I just finished going through all the contracts for your business deal and acquisition of La Rosa with AJ Gigioliotti,” I start, meeting his trusting, expectant stare. It trips me up, because as much as I want to tear into him for getting in bed with AJ so to speak, I can see how much these investment opportunities mean to him. How strongly he feels about cementing his financial independence.
“Marco, are you sure about this? Are you sure this is good for your business reputation and Sebastian’s? Bella Donna makes you a package deal.” I deliberately soften my tone and expression, so he knows I’m asking as his friend and not his lawyer.
“Raf, stop talking in riddles. Just spit it out.”
So I give him the low-down on what I have uncovered going through all the paperwork for his purchase of La Rosa from the Rizzos. On paper, the deal is completely legitimate, save for one piece of the puzzle that could have irrevocable implications. Arty Bartholomew Jones is the director of Duo Law—the same firm acting on behalf of all the shell companies who run the clubs and bars owned by the Rizzos. It’s not lost on me that Marcohas hated Arty since he caught him making a move on my sister six years ago, only made worse by Arty’s renewed interest now that Sophia is back in New York.There’s something seriously suspicious about Arty being involved in this.
“What the fuck! Isn’t he an entertainment lawyer?” he asks.
“Yes. Most of us just stick to our specialist fields, but if he’s got the qualifications, there’s nothing stopping him from practicing in other disciplines too.”
“I’ll get to the bottom of why Arty has his sticky fingers in this. That weasel aside, it’s all legitimate. I saw AJ just before I came here. He confirmed he’s smoothed things over on his end,” Marco argues.
“On paper it’s all legitimate, but I’m worried about the unwarranted attention you might be inviting and the ammunition you might be providing people intent on muddying your reputation.”
He may be lovesick, but Marco is no fool. His analytical brain never stops, so I see the moment the pieces click into place.
“Raf, it’s that motherfucker Arty who’s been feeding your dad information about my business dealings. I fucking know it.”
“It could just be a coincidence, but…”
“I don’t believe in fucking coincidences,” he seethes before abruptly standing and stalking down the hall towards my sister’s office.
I stride after him in hopes of convincing him to reconsider his commitment to the deal; instead, I am blinded by a flash of bright light.
