“Good for you. I don’t need the details,” she says with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he would appreciate you respecting that he’s a private man.”
I dip my head in a nod, appreciating that she’s letting me off the hook.
“I will be back, girls. There is a very dashing man with sexy glasses who appears to be thirsty,” she says with a wink.
There’s only one man with sexy glasses I know. I turn to follow where she’s going, and sure enough it appears Mr. Strong and Silent has captured Juliette’s attention.He could use a little fun, I think, smiling to myself before turning back to Evie, who’s snapped into organization mode.
“I know you just got off a plane, but Marco has confirmed operation proposal is happening next Saturday” says Evie.
“The ring is literally burning a hole in his underwear drawer,” I reply with a laugh.
“Seb’s closing down Bella Donna, and we’ve booked caterers and a styling company to set up the VIP area for a beautiful dinner,” explains Evie. “Then we’ll open the dance floor later. Just immediate friends, family, and some close acquaintances.”
“Will Luca still be here?” asks Stella. “The season starts soon.”
“Oh, hello there, Miss F1 expert,” I say. “How is Mr. Impenetrable?”
“How does one say, he’s an expert at handling tight corners,” she says, biting her lip and running her hands down the sides of her body.
“Stella! He’s a client,” hisses Evie.
“Uh-uh,” Stella tuts, holding up her finger. “Was. Zane Lemairewasa client. We went out at the completion of our contract as friends to celebrate him completing the program I designed for him. And then he totally reprogrammed my brain chemistry with his magical tongue and monster cock. Oh. My. God,” she says fanning herself. “Can confirm F1 drivers have stamina. Anyway, I digress. What is my job for Operation Engagement Party?”
“I can’t believe I’m about to entrust this task to you…” says Evie, side-eyeing her other best friend. “Do you think you can emcee the night and write the speech—but you need to keep it PG. Please no jokes about Marco’s magical tongue or the size of his manhood.”
“You are the biggest party pooper,” Stella says, blowing a raspberry at Evie. “Surely I can say Sophia was dick-ma-tized by Marco from the first moment she laid eyes on what he was packing.”
“Hard no.”
“Well, it was actually a hard something that started it all. But fine, Mom, I’ll keep it all above the waist.”
“Chiara, I’d love for you to get some photos of them that night. There will be lots of beautiful flowers and styled areas you can use, but really I think the more candid the better.”
“Can do! I love event photography. Capturing all the different people and their emotions when they don’t know I’m there. Actually...” I say, remembering the black envelope. “Sorry Imissed that event you sent me an invite to. I misplaced the envelope before I left for Texas.”
“Which event?” she asks, looking confused.
“I’m not sure. I asked Raf to open the envelope and he told me I’d missed the RSVP and event.”
“Hmm, maybe someone from my team sent it. I’ll check. But not me.”
She’s usually on top of every little thing, so something is not adding up here.I’ll check when I get home,I think before I order one more drink.Perks of having a driver and a personal bodyguard,I muse and continue my catch-up session with my girls. A warm, fuzzy feeling spreads across my chest. I’m living the life I’ve always dreamed of—including the house and the handsome, hot, rich husband—even if that is just a matter of circumstance, and I’m giving myself permission to buy the delusion. For now, at least.
Keying in the door code, I smile to myself as I take note of the soft glow of the porch light, making the task a helluva lot easier. Raf—AKA Big Bad Raf AKA Law Daddy as I like to call him—will never admit it, but I’m going to chalk this up to one of the small ways my husband shows he’s more thoughtful than he lets on. It also tells me he’s home, and that sends a little thrill coursing through me. It’s been almost a month since we’ve seen each other between his travel and mine.
Quietly pulling off my new cowboy boots, I reflect on my girls’ night with Evie and Stella. Without a doubt, another good thing to come out of the ups and downs of the last few months is finding the type of friendship I’ve always craved. The ride-or-dietype that only comes with having a girl gang that has your back no matter what. Even though I’ve known them all for a short time, it feels like a lifetime. I guess watching someone at the core of a friendship group that feels like found family—who had no idea he was your cousin—taking a bullet will make you form friends really fucking fast. Tonight was our first girls’ night out since the art exhibition. I was sad that I didn’t get to see Sophia, but seeing the result of our secretive meetup will be all worth it next week when Marco finally puts the final part of his plan in play. A smile tugs on my mouth when I think of how those two are truly the epitome of soulmates. I still hold out hope that one day I’ll have that type of unwavering love.
Holding my boots in my hand, I check the kitchen then the lounge room, but he’s not there. I pad barefoot up the hall to his room. Also empty, but I inhale deeply, breathing him in, his spicy cologne with the merest hint of something sweet. Just like the man himself. It’s comforting, like that feeling that washes over you when you return home from a holiday and the promise of sleeping in your bed again awaits. I continue my journey towards his den—the one room he requested I stay out of. It’s where he retreats before he turns in for the night, even on those when he’s coming in past midnight. I’m quiet on approach, hoping I can catch him unaware, praying he won’t turn me away, because I really fucking missed him and I didn’t realize how much until this very moment where his smell, his presence, and anticipation swirl like cotton candy being spun on a stick.
When he comes into view, I find him sitting in his big leather armchair, head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes closed. He has a lit cigar in one hand and a glass of scotch in the other. He’s still in his work clothes but lacks the usual polish. His dress pants are creased from sitting, his dress shirt unbuttoned, revealing some of the dark trimmed hair on his muscular chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I lean against the door frame and drink him inwith only the glow of a small lamp illuminating the space. His strong Italian features are highlighted by the shadows—strong nose, square jawline, and the luscious mouth I want caressing every inch of my body. His broad shoulders fill most of the space, and I think about how much they’re probably carrying right now in a metaphorical sense. He’s an honorable man, even if he doesn’t want to reveal that side of himself to me.Yet.I take my fill, marveling at how powerful he looks and how my body craves that power directed at me.
I know I’m about to be discovered when he tightens his grip on the crystal scotch glass, making the veins in his forearm pop in that delicious way.Fuck, my roomie-with-no-benefits is sexy as sin.
Without moving a muscle, he greets me. “Hello, wife.” The gravelly timbre of his voice shocks and thrills me all at once. “Nice boots,” he says, looking me up and down hungrily and focusing his attention on the shoes in my hand.
“A forget-me-not present from the sexy cowboy,” I return, unable to resist needling him.
He grinds his teeth and lazily swings his heated gaze to my face, squinting his eyes as he takes another puff of the cigar he’s holding in that delicious way with his thumb and next two fingers. He exhales smoke in rings and beckons me to him, eyes smoldering albeit glassy, a telltale sign that he’s probably a few scotches deep. His usually neatly-styled hair is unkempt, like he’s been raking his hand through it, signifying there must be a good reason for the alcohol consumption. I don’t dare ask him about it because I don’t want to ruin this rare moment of feeling desired by him. Selfish? Perhaps. But maybe he needs something to help him forget whatever is bothering him too.
