Page 2 of Always Mine
She doesn’t answer, but I know she’s in there. “Soph, open the door. Let me explain.”
“Marco, just go away,” comes her muffled voice, like she’s got her face smooshed into a pillow.
Fuck, she’s probably crying into it so no one hears. It was always her default move when her dad would upset her at family dinner. Constantly nagging her about grades and accepting Harvard’s offer, when she’s always had her heart set on doing law at Columbia.
She’s so smart, she got letters of offer from both Columbia and Harvard. Here I am once again proving what a fool I am as I plead for her to open the door so I can make it right. I don’t deserve the adoration she reserves for me, and yet I crave it. Lap it up like the selfish prick I am.
“Please, Kitten,” I plead, hoping the nickname will soften her resolve.
“I need to get ready for the party tonight.”
“What…you’re going to that? I thought we were going for pizza and gelato instead.”
“Yeah, well you thought wrong!” The bite in her tone tells me she left all the tears she’s gonna cry over me in the pillow.
Before I can beg her some more to speak to me, her dad’s voice pierces through my panic. I look up and see him standing in the doorway of his office at the very end of the long hallway.
“Marco, son, can you please step into my office. We need to have a chat.”
Shit! What’s he doing here? I thought he and his wife, Sienna, were at lunch with my parents. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s going to ask what I’ve done to upset his daughter. How does one say, “Well, sir, I have a hard-on for your daughter, literally, because she’s beautiful and smart and instead of admitting it—both that she’s the reason for the actual hard-on and that she’s beautiful and smart—I fucked it all up.”
I feel naked in just my wet swim shorts as I silently tread the stairs and follow Patrick into his office. My heart is pounding; Patrick looks calm, but I know he doesn’t mess around when it comes to Sophia.
Though his choice of words seems warm, there’s an icy undercurrent of disapproval that punctuates them.
“Sit, please.” He gestures to the large cream fabric couch along the back wall of his office. A stark contrast to the ominous feeling starting to wrap itself around me.
He perches on the edge of his desk, facing me, trying to come off as causal, even though I’m certain this conversation is going to be anything but.
“I trust you had a nice time at the beach.” It’s a statement, not a question, which tells me we’re going to skip the small talk and get to the root of whatever he’s hauled me in here for.
“I’m just going to cut to the chase, son.”
Yep, there it is. I simply nod. I just need to get through this and get back to convincing Sophia to talk to me.
“I need you to help me with something important for Sophia,” he continues. “As you know, she’s deciding between Harvard and Columbia. She’s made no secret that her heart is set on Columbia, and no doubt the opportunity it offers to stay close to her loved ones.” He arches an eyebrow knowingly. “But given I’m one of the biggest donors of Harvard’s prestigious law program and it’s where both Raf and I graduated, it’s where Sophia should go. It’s the most advantageous choice for her career-wise and as a matter of optics for our firm.”
I meet his imploring, knowing gaze with a puzzled look. He probably thinks it’s because I’m a dumb wanna-be nightclub owner who doesn’t understand the big words he uses. I’m certain he intentionally speaks like that to make me feel inferior, and sometimes it does make me question if I’m good enough for Sophia. But mostly, I’m completely confused how I fit into all this. How would I be able to help Sophia choose?
“And how exactly do you think I can help?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“My daughter looks at you like you hung the moon, Marco. I don’t know what has caused the commotion out there today, but I think you care for her deeply, too.” Pushing off his desk he comes to stand closer, so he’s peering down at me. “If you do care for her as deeply as I think you do, you should convince her to chooseHarvard instead of Columbia. It’s the best move for her, and you’re the only person with enough influence to make her see that, son.”
There it is again, the affectionate use of that word, son. A carrot he dangles, like maybe if I help him with this one thing, he’d consider letting me be part of his family. I push the thought away and consider what he’s asking. Am I sure this is the right move for Sophia? Isn’t Columbia one of the best schools?
“But—but—it’s not what she wants. Like you said, she’ll miss her family…” I stammer, trying to figure out my own feelings at the same time as trying not to reveal just how much I care for his daughter. “I mean, you know Sophia, she’s going to be top of the class regardless—”
“You’re missing the point here, Marco,” he cuts me off tersely, before schooling his features once again. “You help me, and I help you.”
I raise my eyebrows in question, but don’t get to voice it because Patrick just steamrolls right ahead.
“If you do me—Sophia really—this favor, I’ll give you and Sebastian the financial backing to set up Bella Donna and go guarantor for the building, no questions asked.” His eyes gleam, and I suddenly understand why he’s earned the nickname The Wolf.
He knows he has me right where he wants me. Seb and I aren’t messing around with Bella Donna. Our entire business plan for the luxury nightclub hinges on our pitch for Patrick’s investment.
We’ve already invested every cent we’ve been able to get together individually. Fuck. How can I admit to Seb I let our future go down the drain because I refused to convince his sister she should choose one amazing law school over another? My stomach and heart are in free fall.
“And if I don’t do what you’re asking of me?”