Page 30 of Always Mine
I gently place a hand on her shoulder and ever so slightly guide her back to the backrest. She looks up at me, relief flooding her eyes. I let my hand linger there and feel her shoulders soften slightly as some of the tension falls away. The connection, though brief, also works to appease this new need buzzing in my body to have a part of me touching her in some way all the time. And, more importantly, to stop me from punching Arty’s wolfish smile off his face.
I retake my seat next to her in time to hear Arty respond to whatever conversation was taking place in my absence.
“Of course, Patrick. I’d be more than happy to make introductions to my inner circle,” says Arty with far too much enthusiasm for my liking. “We should organize a drink sometime this week, Sophia.” Not a question. A statement like it’s a done deal.Over my dead body.My fingers strangle the cutlery I picked up to eat with, and I now consider using the knife to commit a violent crime instead.
“In fact, you should also accompany me to the exclusive Natalia Hirsch photography exhibition happening next weekend. Tickets are like hen’s teeth, but I managed to pull some strings; it would be an honor to have the stunning daughter of Patrick Princi on my arm as my plus-one.”
“That would be right up Sophia’s alley! Photography is her little hobby,” Patrick exclaims, chest puffed out proud as a peacock atArty’s ass-licking comment, while also speaking for Sophia once again. I don’t know what gets my blood boiling more, Arty implying taking her as his date is a given, or her father minimizing her love for photography to a “little hobby.”
“It’s more than a little hobby. Sophia’s photography is awesome,” chimes in Luca.
“I mean, if the lawyer thing doesn’t work out, sis, you’d make one hell of a photographer.”
Oh boy, he went there. Nothing gets Patrick on a rant quicker than the suggestion of a career in anything that’s not law.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” scoffs Patrick. “There’s no money in the arts, not to mention what a waste that would be of good brains and a Harvard law degree. Besides, Sophia is going to make an excellent lawyer. Just like me and Raf, she graduated top of her class.”
“It never ceases to amaze me that you simply ignore evidence to the contrary,” pipes up Sebastian, his voice calm and even, but his expression dark. It surprises me that he’s inserting himself into a confrontational situation.
“Did it escape you that you have one son who literally gets paid an ungodly amount to race a fast car professionally, and another who has made multiple rich lists for an establishment he built from the ground up with a following the world over?”
I guess Sebastian got over the little law-bros love-in happening before us.
“Well, well, well. Look who finally grew some balls,” goads Luca, grinning as he picks up his beer and stares down the ticking time bomb at the other end.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” mutters Raf next to me, wiping his mouth and throwing his napkin to the table. Stoic and more serious than his younger brothers, he has zero tolerance for family drama. As the eldest he’ll most likely be the one to deal with the fallout of the impending explosion.
“That’s enough. It’s New Year’s Day, and you all know the rules. No talking law or pole position or bar on the holidays,” scolds Sienna playfully, doing her best to stop this train wreck of a dinnerfrom completely crashing and burning. “Arty, I’d like to say this is not the norm, but lying is not my strong suit. They’re a competitive lot here.”
“A little competition never hurt anyone, Mrs. Princi.” Arty’s tone is cordial, but his icy stare is trained on me.Try me, motherfucker.
My phone pings with a new notification in my bespoke messaging app. I pull up the messages from AJ, including pick-up times, hotel details, and four tickets to the Natalia Hirsch exhibition.
Perfect timing, brother.
“Oh, would you look at that,” I say in mock surprise. “My tickets to the Natalia Hirsch photography exhibition. You’ll need to find yourself another plus-one, Arty. And, Patrick, you might want to get used to the idea that the only arm Sophia will be on from now on is mine.”
The sudden scrape of a chair slices through the tension in the room. It takes me a moment to realize it’s Sophia’s. She’s on her feet. I look up at her. Her expression is dark and her usually caramel-brown eyes have darkened to a shade reminiscent of burnt toffee. Huh.
Maybe her tics weren’t driven by anxiety at all. She looks downright furious.
“I know this may seem like a wild notion in a room filled with dicks and inflated egos,” Sophia seethes, pointedly looking around at all the men at the table. “But for the record, I will decide whose arm is worthy of even one of my fingernails, let alone the pleasure of my company.” She pauses for effect, then continues. “Let it also be noted I’m capable of speaking for myself. Yep, vagina and all. You know why? Because I am a whole grown-ass intelligent woman with a Harvard law degree as you have so kindly pointed out, Dad. I’m done dealing with a bunch of dicks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time. New year, new me, and all that jazz!”
With that she strides out of the room and my dick threatens to salute her as she goes. Feisty Sophia is our favorite. Except she’s lumped us in the same bag with the rest of the penis-carryingcompany staring at her back as she makes her exit. It dawns on me that in my possessive need to make it clear that Sophia is off the market, I may have fucked up too. I shoot out of my seat and quickly follow her, aware of all sets of eyes now trailing my movements.
“All this delicious food, when all we really needed was the popcorn,” cackles Luca as I round out of the dining room and into the kitchen, following the sound of Sophia’s angry footsteps.
“Sophia! Sophia, wait! Can you please just stop and tell me what’s wrong?”
Whirling quickly to face me, like I’ve just given her an electric shock, she scoffs. “What’s wrong? Do you mean other than being spoken over, spoken on behalf of and spoken at by egotistical men? Oh, and according to you, apparently spoken for. Nothing is wrong at all. Everything is abso-fucking-lutely peachy.”
Stepping closer, I put both hands on her shoulders to stop her from turning back to reach for her jacket. She doesn’t fight me, but her expression is still marred with disappointment and annoyance.
“Soph, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I can’t pretend anymore. If it wasn’t obvious last night, I want every fucking bit of you to myself. I’ve spent six years missing you and the last six months waiting for the chance to say everything I should have told you that night. Most days I wish I had done things differently all those years ago, but right now, when you let that fierce woman you’ve become out of the box, I don’t regret the strong woman you have become,” I say with all the sincerity I can muster, watching the way the gold flecks in her eyes flicker with each word of my confession.
“You do realize what you just did in there makes you no better than my father, right? You decided I would be attending the exhibition with you and claimed me as yours without even having a conversation with me first. Or checking in to see how I’m feeling about all this,” she says, softening her tone and waving a hand between us.
“I don’t want to control you the way your father has tried to. I just don’t want to waste another second without you. I won’t stand by and watch anyone else, let alone that slimy fucker in there, try and get close to you.”