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A shadow pierces the bright spotlight and before I know it, my father is sweeping me into the room, making introductions left and right. I know most of these people already. My father is a huge believer in bringing up your child by nurturing and admonishing them of who you expect them to become.
For me, that was likely being a bride to the next head of the Cardinali family. Which means that, like my mother before me, I have to know every facet of the business, so that I might one day make a good advisor.
“Miss Giada, you look stunning,” Mrs. Santino says.
Her husband works in accounting, and she aspires to be a lady who lunches. I smile, nodding my head at her. “Thank you.”
“Happy birthday!” She continues with a small clap.
I nod, smiling some more, and move on to the next person and the next until they blur together in a long line of obligation, fear and pandering. None of these people care about me as a person. I’m merely an object to be admired that might help them get ahead in some way.
When the smile begins to feel a bit stiff on my face, I glide over to the bar and ask for a whisky on the rocks. The bartender gives me a sympathetic glance and proceeds to mix my drink.
“Only the best thousand-year-old Scotch whisky for the birthday girl,” he says.
I summon a smile from somewhere before grabbing my glass and downing it. “Another.” I say, slamming my glass back on the table.
His smile widens. “A girl after my own heart.”
I know he’s just doing what everyone else is, kissing my ass to impress my dad, but it’s particularly annoying coming from him. I want to lean in to whisper in his ear, ‘You know it won’t work, right?’ but he probably won’t even know what I’m talking about.
I retrieve my new drink and saunter away, keeping an eye on the crowds.
Suddenly there’s a hand on my body, where no hand should be. Someone behind me squeezes my ass hard enough that their finger is between my ass cheeks. I freeze, outraged, and turn, ready to give them a piece of my mind, maybe a face-full of whisky too. I come to a stop, blinking rapidly as I look up into the face of my fiancé-to-be. “Patrizio…” I say shakily, “W-what are you doing?”
He grins wolfishly, leaning in, a lock of his luxuriant salt and pepper hair falling across his forehead. “Just having a little taste of what’s mine.” He says sotto voce.
Not fucking yet.
I’m feeling a little defiant tonight, not very accommodating. When he circles my waist with his hand, and tries to pull me flush against him, I do not move an inch, planting in my heels to help me resist.
His brow furrows, and he looks annoyed. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
I toss my head, lifting my chin defiantly. “Nothing’s wrong. Why?”
His fingers dig painfully into my side. “Do not play with me, little girl, I’ve crushed women far more experienced than you.” He says coldly.
I quirk an eyebrow. “What a thing to say to your fiancée. Are you aware that you’re hurting me?”
He growls, actuallygrowls, against my ear and pulls me closer by force. I stumble, almost falling, and am forced to put a hand on his chest to steady myself. He’s looking down my cleavage, which has almost been flattened against him.
I want to slap his face. “Let. Me. Go.” I bite out.
His wandering hands have reached my ass and he’s kneading and shaping it in his hands. “I don’t think so.”
I can feel his erection crushed between us as he grinds against me. Surely, he should be too old for random boners.
Did he take Viagra before coming to my party? I wouldn’t put it past him.
“There you are, Gigi. Been searching all over for you.” I look up, feeling both mortified and relieved to see my cousin Tiziano weaving drunkenly towards us. “Got a present for you.”
Patrizio lets me go and disappears into the crowd as Tiziano reaches me. He digs into his pocket and comes out with a small box. “It’s a charm, for good luck. I’m sure you can use it.” His eyes flick over to the right and I follow his gaze to see Patrizio in conversation with someone I haven’t met.
Maybe Tiziano isn’t as clueless as we all assume he is.
“Thank you.” I try to infuse the words with all the relief and gratitude I’m feeling for the reprieve he’s managed to give me.
“Aww, you’re welcome. Enjoy.” He pats me affectionately on the arm before staggering away.
