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Careful now. The voice was heavily accented, Italian, like her father’s, and it drew her back to something that had happened years ago.
She couldn’t be sure of the exact date, but it was when her enti
re family was alive and she’d desperately sought the approval of the adults in her life. She’d been a child, playing in the front foyer of their brownstone while servants went in and out the front door, preparing for another one of their famous Fiorini Christmas parties. The man who’d stopped to talk to her had been balding, round, but pleasant-faced. While most of the help had ignored her, he’d watched her playing and asked her to show him her cartwheels. She’d done several, but knocked over a vase in the foyer.
Afraid of getting in trouble, she’d run out of the house to hide behind the planters on the front steps.
“Careful now,” the man had said as he followed her out to where she was hiding, fighting tears. “What’s your name, pretty?”
“Eva,” she’d responded.
She quivered as more of the memory flooded back.
Before she’d known what was happening, her father had flown through the door, scooped Eva up, and deposited her back inside. He’d yelled in Italian at the man, but by then the man had been halfway down the street.
Don’t you ever talk to strangers again, Evie. Do you hear me? He’d shouted, holding her by the shoulders.
She hadn’t known what to say. She’d never seen her father so upset.
Now, she turned to look after the man who’d passed her, but he was gone. Even though she’d only seen a glimpse of him, she couldn’t fight the sensation of déjà vu that crept up her spine.
Stop, Eva. That was like what, twenty years ago? she told herself as she rushed home to change. You have more important things to think about, anyway.
It was true. She was facing down one of the most transformative moments of her life.
She needed to concentrate on only one thing right now. She was going to learn to play it cool so that tonight, she would rock Jack’s world as thoroughly as he rocked hers.
Chapter 7
“I don’t get it.” Georgie laughed as she tossed her curly mane of blonde hair. “I mean, even if he is Jack Bennett, in the end, he’s just a guy.”
Of course she didn’t get it. Georgie had just done that little flip thing with her hair, and all men within a ten-mile radius were salivating. She had a husky, smoky voice that oozed sex, and managed to get away with doing outrageous things that ordinary people couldn’t. Only Georgie could pull off a skin-tight black dress with two skulls and crossbones over the tits, worn with chunky socks and combat boots. Only Georgie could tell the bartender to fuck off because the drinks were too watered-down, then get behind the bar and start pouring her own.
Only Georgie could start every Monday morning marketing meeting at Eva’s Organics with, “Listen up, motherfuckers,” and still have a job. Georgie had confidence to spare.
Sometimes Eva wished Georgie could donate some of it to her, like a blood transfusion.
“I know, I know,” she said, trying to laugh off her nerves. “But I don’t have much experience with guys. When it came to having a social life, Antonio pretty much kept me chained in the house. So men…intimidate me.”
“That’s your brother and father talking,” Georgie said. “I’m sure they didn’t expect you to stay twelve your whole life, Eva. You have to get them out of your head tonight and just let loose.”
Nelson downed his vodka martini and signaled to the bartender for another round. “Besides, guys shouldn’t intimidate you. We’re big, dumb puppy dogs. Overenthusiastic at times, but mostly harmless.”
Eva cringed. “You know I’m a cat person.”
“Forget puppies. Guys are more like assholes.” Georgie grinned at Nelson. “Present company excluded, of course.”
Nelson nodded his thanks. “Assholes? You mean, everyone has one?”
Georgie pulled the cherry out of her drink and sucked it off its stem. “No, I just mean that they’re assholes. The end.”
Nelson said, “So let me guess. You broke up with Victor?”
She shrugged. “Asshole was too good for him. I prefer to call him Fuckface, thank you very much.”
Eva groaned. This wasn’t helping. She was more stressed out now than she’d been before.
As if summoned by her anxious thoughts, her phone dinged. She glanced down to see Plaza 6 p.m. on her screen. The message was from Jack. She’d sensed it would be coming, so there was no reason for a text to give her a full-on panic attack.
