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Even with how reckless and chaotic this situation with Aria threatens to be, I cannot imagine her apart from me. Despite her constant defiance, I’m starting to feel that she’s giving me some kind of a… purpose.
She makes me want to be a better man.
I crush the cigarette in the ashtray, standing up abruptly. There’s no room for doubt or second-guessing. If I want to keep my world and this thing −whatever it is− with Aria intact, I have to act swiftly, and if that means dragging Jonathan or Henshaw into the fire, then so be it.
I’ll deal with the consequences later.
Chapter eighteen
Aria
Elio Donatelli will be the end of me.
I relax my head on the swivel leather chair, rocking my body to an inaudible rhythm as the events of the evening before, at the charity gala, and then the call from this morning replay in my head.
I’ve heard that men are jealous species, but Elio is unnecessarily extreme. His jealousy is dangerous, ruthless even, frightening me to my very marrow.
Being a witness to what he did to Friedrich at the gala, I’m still trying to figure out how I can cope with such unacceptable behavior.
While my mind roamed Elio’s actions, I texted Mia and asked her to meet up at the restaurant across the street from her place.
With the way things are going, I desperately need someone to talk to before I lose my mind.
I grab my black purse and my suit jacket, sliding documents back into their place and making sure everything on my desk space is well arranged, before striding out into the New York summer.
***
Mia is seated in the farthest corner of the restaurant, chewing on a chocolate croissant, when I walk in.
The only reason I didn’t suggest meeting at her apartment is that her place is a constant mess, and I can’t stand eating when all I want to do is clean.
“Ugh, finally,” she groans when I take the chair across from her.
“I’m so sorry, traffic.” A sheepish grin takes over my face as she flickers her lashes at me.
“I already ordered two bagels and lox and 2 grilled chicken breast sandwiches.”
She closes one of her eyes in a wink, and I can’t help but chuckle with wonder. Mia eats the portion of two people in one sitting.When she’s very hungry, she can even wolf down three portions without feeling overstuffed.
“Did you ask for capers and red onions to go with mine?” I ask. That’s the only way I can enjoy bagels and lox.
“Of course, how could I forget? Thinly sliced red onions!” We both throw our heads back laughing, stopping when she hands me her chocolate croissant.
“So, how’s your dad?” Mia asks, leaning forward slightly. Her voice is soft, but there’s an undercurrent of concern.
I manage a small smile. “He’s doing better. Recuperating quickly, actually. The doctors are optimistic. Actually, we all are.”
She exhales, relief flickering across her face. “That’s good to hear. I was worried after... everything.”
Her words hang in the air like a weight, and I take a bite of the chocolate to stall my response. My mind races as I try to figure out how to start the real conversation that made me contact her.
“I need to tell you something,” I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Mia straightens, her journalistic instincts kicking in. “What is it?”
“It’s about Elio,” I begin, my stomach churning. Her brows furrow, her expression shifts to one of curiosity and something else I instantly recognize. Suspicion.
“Look, I want you to pretend like I’m telling you some childhood gist. School your expressions and act normal. They’re watching.”