Page 103 of Always Mine
Then she looks to Chiara. “Did you need me to organize a lift home for you or…” She lets the question hang.
“I may be ‘The Grump’, but I still know how to be a gentleman. I’ll make sure my date gets home safely,” says Raf. He picks up his wine and takes a sip, looking over the rim to stare in Chiara’s direction with the slightest hint of a smirk. Arabella surveys the scene playing out before her and laughs heartily. “Raf, I think you have achieved the impossible and rendered our girl speechless.”
“Not speechless,” Chiara drawls, returning my brother’s stare with an unrelenting one of her own. “Just pondering whether I should call 911. I think Raf might have contracted some weird life-threatening condition that’s melting his usual ice-cold personality. I mean, I think he even almost smiled, a very telling symptom.”
We all try to hide our amusement at the way these two seem to bicker almost like an old married couple.
“Okay well, I was just on my way to the bathroom. So I’ll catch you all…another time,” she says, almost unsure as she keeps walking towards the other side of the room. Luca follows, letting her know he’s there with a gentle hand to the small of her back. She turns to look over her shoulder at his touch, catching my eye as she does, and I don’t miss the sorrow that passes over her expression before she turns her attention to my brother. I don’t know where things stand with those two, but there is no doubt in my mind Luca would follow her to the ends of the earth, even at the peril of his own dreams.
Marco returns to his seat, concern etched all over his handsome face with the shadow of stubble highlighting his chiseled features.
“Everything okay?” I ask as he takes his seat next to me, which gets the attention of Sebastian, too, who lifts his brow to Marco as if to reiterate my question.
There is something unreadable in Marco’s eyes, but he lifts his chin in assurance to Sebastian before he leans over and whispers. “Remember, you don’t have to go ahead with this.”
“There’s no turning back now,” I say with a soft smile that hides the dread settled in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter seventy-two
Pandemonium
Marco
Sophiagracefullyrisesfromher seat and I stand too. Far less gracefully, though, piquing her suspicion.
“What are you doing, Marco?” I follow her gaze to Arty as he makes his way back onto the stage, where she needs to be too.
With a hand on her back, I bring my lips closer her ear. “Pay close attention to the room when you’re up, there, okay. Follow the movement of anyone who goes to stand, and if they move jerkily or suspiciously, pretend to drop something and get low.” Confusion and fear swirl across her delicate features, her cheeks slightly pink from the mix of alcohol and the fact Chiara has kept our table highly entertained, mostly at the expense of Raf. I think she may have even won over Patrick, the only other man who might be a tougher nut to crack.
“Marco, you’re scaring me.”
“Do you trust me?”
She swallows thickly and nods.
“Just do as I say, okay. Stand directly behind the lectern so your entire body is shielded. Drop down behind it if anyone stands or moves suspiciously. As soon as that video starts, get the fuck off thatstage and walk straight to my dad. He’s waiting there off stage for you.”
She grasps my hand and gives it a squeeze to tell me she understands, and then she’s striding to the stage. I hate that it’s her who’s about to risk it all to set in motion the wheels of a runaway train that can’t be stopped. If I could, I would take her place, but this time, it’s not my battle. It’s what she’s made for. This is the reason I deprived myself of her and all her goodness for the last six years. She’s finally found a cause she’s hungry to give her all to, a reason to fight until justice is served.
I take my seat slowly, timing it with the moment Sophia comes to stand fully behind the lectern like I told her.
I put hand over my mouth and talk quietly. “Anything, boys?”
“Negative, boss,” they all chime one after the other.
“Stay calm, son,” my dad reassures, reminding me to keep my emotions in check so I don’t miss the subtleties that might be the tell we’re looking for. Our team is all ready to pounce at the first sight of suspicious behavior, but finding the fake in a sea of black tuxedos is almost like finding a needle in a haystack. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest the thumping is deafening. I scan the room again, table by table, trying to spot the infidel amongst the legitimate guests. The hum of conversation and the tinkling of glasses and cutlery quiets as Arty steps in next to Sophia to speak. She does as I instructed and doesn’t give an inch, her body fully behind the wooden lectern. His words are drowned out by the whooshing sound of adrenaline coursing through my body.
How can this be happening again? I took every single precaution.
Moments earlier, I stepped away from the table to take a call from AJ. He just got word from an associate that Arty pissed off the Rizzo camp and no longer has their protection, so he took matters into his own hands and snuck a mercenary into the room under the guise of being a guest to protect himself at all costs. The only identifiable thing AJ was able to find out about him is that he wears a gold pinky ring.
“And now, here’s a video tribute to honor this year’s winner of Partner Of The Year and my co-chair, Arthur Bartholomew Jones,” says Sophia.
“Go, go, go. Get her out of there, Dad,” I command in a hushed whisper into his earpiece.
Sophia steps around Arty, giving him a congratulatory kiss on the cheek and staying in character right to the very end, and then thank fuck she is off stage just as the video is beamed onto every screen in the room, the hiss of static working to pull everyone’s attention and buying time, ensuring Sophia is off the stage before the footage begins to play.
Then it’s showtime. The first frame to flash up is the professional portrait of Arty he commissioned Natalia Hirsch to take. He’s standing there smiling like the Cheshire cat, totally unaware of the turn this little video montage is about to take. GG’s smooth voice projects over the hushed room. “There’s a saying that goes, if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.” Arty’s smile falters as he nervously looks around the audience, unsure of what to make of the intro but not completely clued in to where it’s going.