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Chapter 1 – Briana
“When’s the wedding?” Sophia chirped from across the other side of the living room.
My best friend knew damn well when it was; this was just her way of rationalizing my situation.
“In two weeks,” I groaned. “To find a date on such short notice is impossible.” I averted my eyes as my dainty friend stacked another box onto her pile of stuff. Avoiding the ever-growing piles of cardboard was the only thing keeping me from bursting into tears—that and the pitcher of margaritas we were halfway through.
I dramatically dropped into the stylish armchair that was coming to New York with me and snatched my cup of beautiful, yellow-lime goodness off the folded paper towel—because we’d already packed the coasters.
“What if you paid someone?” Sophia asked, swaying to the music. Armed with packing tape and another box made from recycled sources, she arched a brow at me.
“It would never work; my family would see through it,” I grumped. “There’s no way I could get the right man to play the role of doting boyfriend while also knowing sufficient details about me. Besides, I couldn’t pay anyone enough to tolerate such a sumptuous affair as the Pelto-Hilton union.”
“You’re a trust fund brat, remember?” she stated dryly.
I waved my glass at her. “True, but it’s not like I can access the funds.”
I downed the rest of my drink and squeaked as a brain freeze hit. I slammed my cup down and clutched my temples.
“Rub your tongue on the roof of your mouth,” Sophia instructed, her words followed by the whine of the tape stretching over another box.
“What am I going to do without you?” I wailed, scrunching my eyes to keep back real tears.
“Oh, saints, you’re going to be an emotional drunk today, aren’t you?” Sophia set the box down and came over. Half sitting on my lap, she wrapped her arms around me.
“Do you have to go back to Cali?” I murmured. She always smelled of citrus.Dammit, why didn’t I take the west coast job?
Because you had no choice,that voice of reason quickly responded. My overachieving family competed in the New York circles, and I was lucky they’d let me attend a country school like Harvard. Their words, not mine.
“The deal with my brother and uncle was that I would go to school here, then work for the family business,” Sophia said. Whenever she spoke about her family, her voice became very careful.
The Markovich family were construction tycoons in LA, but ever since meeting her family when we were undergraduate freshmen, I couldn’t see it. Maybe because the construction moguls, architect geniuses, and hotel builders I knew were all clean-cut and polished. They spoke the business language and moved gracefully through the social circles. But Sophia’s family? They were loud, brawling individuals, who came in droves to witness all her accomplishments. They also took frequent trips out here to visit. Very frequent. They felt more like checkups rather than friendly occurrences of family time. With ink scrawled over every visible inch of their skin, they were built like bulls. Come to think of it, they were all male.
“Do you actually have any female relatives?” I asked, speaking into the crook of her arm as we lingered in the hug.
“What?” Sophia pushed away, laughing. “I think someone needs a refill.” With my empty glass in hand, she walked to the kitchen bench and refilled my drink.
“I second that, but I’m just thinking about your family. Even that mysterious Auntie Kathy, who I text occasionally, has never been out here.”
“Why does it matter?” The question came out a tad sharper than it should have, but the grin she flashed softened the blow.
“Just comparing yours to mine.” It was a painful admission. “Your family looks like they’re a bunch of bikers, whereas mine are vying for royalty status in socialite circles. And yet, your LA businessmen have a laid-back, effective approach to their empires.”
“Mine aren’t a fair trade, Bri. Just because they seem free-spirited doesn’t mean they are.”
“Yeah, yeah, you have your Old World Slavic heritage and shit.” I pushed myself out of my seat to join her in the kitchen.
Sophia held out my filled glass. “What’s really bothering you, hmm?”
I took a sip, working up the courage to tell her. “I’m worried that after my contracted first year at the Manhattan law firm, the job will turn into a ball and chain.”
“You said you wanted to get the experience because they’re uber prestigious,” Sophia reminded me. “I get it. But honestly, I know you, Briana Pelto. You’ll be chaffing at the bit to leave after a year or so; they won’t sucker you into an eternity.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t deny that it still didn’t feel right to take the job. My heart didn’t want it. “I want to come west and be closer to you. It’s just going to take time, you know.”
“So, work a year, then come west with me. Easy!” Sophia laughed.
She always had an answer for everything. “We’ll see. Your family might not like an outsider.”
