Page 4 of Always Mine
Everything about him feels right. He’s the most perfect soft landing. Except one look at his steely gaze when he pulls his lips away tells me everything is far from perfect. His jaw ticks like he’s finding his resolve. I know before he speaks that this gentle and sweet kiss, now branded on my soul, was to soften the sting of what’s coming next.
“I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want. Be who you want me to be.” He swallows loudly, a pained expression twisting his handsome features for a moment so fleeting maybe I imagined it. Then with renewed resolve, he continues his one-man mission to obliterate my heart. “We’re both young, Sophia. I’m not ready to settle down and commit to one person—to you. You know who I am. The playboy party boy who doesn’t do relationships. You need to listen to your dad. Go to Harvard. Accomplish everything you’ve dreamed of doing.”
I want to argue. To refute everything that just spilled from his lips by recalling all the moments we shared together this summer. But I don’t have the energy or the will to suffer through any more humiliation. So I just accept this as the final nail in the coffin andclose my broken heart inside. My eyes well with tears, and I try to blink them away. It’s useless as I track the sensation of them rolling down my face. Marco gently wipes them away. “Don’t cry, Kitten.” He whispers the nickname he gave me as a kid chasing after him and my brothers, desperate to keep up and be included in all their silly games.
Desperate even then to be close to him. He’s always felt safe. Even now. When he’s the reason my heart is splintering into shards so sharp I feel like I’m bleeding out.
“Open your eyes,” he pleads. “Please look at me.”
I can’t, otherwise I will shatter into a million pieces and I’m not sure I’ll be able to put myself back together. Sighing heavily, he closes my door and gets into the driver’s seat. He laces his fingers with mine, and I don’t pull away. We drive in silence, and he rubs soothing circles on the top of my hand with his thumb as I focus on the sound of his breathing, the combination a balm for my aching heart. With that, the decision is done. In a few weeks I will leave him and New York behind. My dad wins. Again.
Chapter four
If You Were Mine
Marco
July, six years later
It’sbeenalmostsixyears, as in 312 weeks or 2190 days, depending how you wanted to do the math, since I pressed my lips against Sophia’s and let her hair slip through my fingertips. Just like the chance of telling her I wanted more. Wanted her. A finite moment that sealed my fate. I knew even then she was it for me. Except I’d been given no choice—well, not one I was willing to make—but to let her leave the city a few weeks later.
We’ve kept contact through texts and social media for birthdays and regular life updates and of course seen each other over holidays and various celebrations. Neither of us ever brought up that summer kiss again, and over time we just reverted to how it always was with us. Familiar, friendly, flirty conversations that almost strayed out of the lines, but one of us was always quick to rein it in. But I held onto every word. Squirreled away every laugh. Hung onto every teasing joke about dying an eligible bachelor under thirty and being buried next to her brother Sebastian after being nominatedfor the honor three years running. A title I’ll happily relinquish soon.
Over the last few years our conflicting schedules have meant, other than some text messages, our paths haven’t crossed in-person. Even though I promised to be there, I regrettably had to miss her twenty-first birthday due to an overseas work assignment. Since then, it feels like she’s been purposely trying to put a wedge between us and whatever we’ve been trying to keep under wraps. I told myself I was imagining it, except Sebastian confirmed my gut feeling when he mentioned the last time she visited she brought her new boyfriend, “a cocky college hockey superstar douche,” with her. I hear he also didn’t pass her father’s boyfriend material checklist, and interestingly, Sophia has been cryptic about their relationship status on social media. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for him. My social media sleuthing told me they’ve been dating somewhere around six months, and the fucking asshole, who’s actual name is Aiden or@Aidenthegr8,was quick to make them Instagram official with a picture of her at his game, captioned, “My gurrrl.” I almost crushed my phone in my hand. Firstly, because she’s very much not his girl. Not now. Not ever. Secondly, “gurl”? I’ve never met the guy, but with a social media handle like that and a clear inability to spell, Sebastian’s douche assessment is highly accurate.
I know I have no right to judge or dictate who she chooses to date. I made my bed of thorns and have been lying in it since. I just didn’t expect her to introduce a boyfriend to her family so close to coming back home. Coming back to me. Maybe I’m delusional for thinking that she might have held on to some sliver of hope we’d have a chance.
I thought without question she would be here tonight since it’s a double celebration. Her eldest brother and soon-to-be boss, Raf, has made partner at the family’s law firm where Sophia will work once she graduates in six months. And Bella Donna, the club I co-own with her brother Sebastian, is turning five—and makingprofits exceeding what we had forecast just like I hoped when I made that deal with the devil as a naïve twenty-two-year-old.
I’ve been checking the RSVP list religiously for the last month. Right up until an hour ago her name is still there and next to it a “plus one.” I could just ask Seb, but casually asking him for the fifth time in as many weeks will probably raise his suspicions and I’m not ready to get into details with him. Yet. I could just text her and ask, but the sadist in me lives for that moment when I lay eyes on her for the first time in years. Even if the anticipation is killing me slowly.
“We did it, brother!” Sebastian says, clapping me on the shoulder before coming to stand beside me, watching as New York’s elite file into our club. “Fucking blood, sweat and tears. Certainly not enough time for fucking given ourMost Eligible Bachelorstatus,“ he jokes, “but look what we built. You and me.”
He’s not wrong. Bella Donna is the club to be and be seen. Right now, it’s filling up with a who’s who of A-listers, socialites, and other high-profile guests. It’s almost time for me to head up to the DJ booth to play my set, but I can sense my best friend needs a moment to soak up reaching this pinnacle of success. And rightly so. Sebastian was made for this business. Easy-going, fun-loving and good-looking with an innate ability to find common ground with all types. Simply put, he knows how to sell a feeling. People gravitate to him. One flash of his mega-watt smile that always reaches his bright blue eyes, and the deal is done.
Men want to sip scotch and make multi-million dollar deals with him; women want to lock him down and take him home to meet their mother. None have succeeded thus far, because as much as he portrays the heartthrob, party-loving entrepreneur persona, he’s a damn good businessman. For the last six years, he’s only had eyes for Bella Donna. “All your vision, bro. I just lent you my pretty face so we could land top spot on all those stupid lists. You know I’m a competitive prick.”
“Fuck off, Marco. Without you as resident DJ and your security and operations know-how we wouldn’t be as successful as we are.Not to mention you didn’t take a cent in drawings.” He side-eyes me, silently imploring to explain myself like he’s asked every time I’ve refused a cent. But there’s too much going on for him to dig his heels in and demand an answer—one I’m not ready or proud to divulge. “I don’t know what the fuck that’s about, but there’s no one else I’d ride this rollercoaster with. Who would’ve believed two twenty-three-year-olds with a vision but no real clue could have created this in just six years? Certainly not my father,” he says darkly. Patrick may have kept to his word and financially backed Bella Donna, but he makes no secret of the fact our success doesn’t live up to his yardstick. A kick in the nuts, considering what I gave up for it. For him. “Speaking of my father, what did he want the other day when he stormed into your office?”
I chuckle humorlessly. “Apparently, he’s heard rumors about me doing business with AJ Gigioliotti. He wanted to warn me that people were starting to talk and it’s not a good look for Bella Donna, so AJ better not set foot inhisclub.”
Sebastian snorts in disbelief. “So, what, being friends with AJ instantly makes you part of the Mafia? If that’s the rationale we’re running with, then he’s a debauched coke head considering the shit half the lawyers he considers ‘friends’ get up to. Also, I love the way it’shis clubwhen he wants to exert his power.”
“Fucking ridiculous. I just nodded and let him rant. Then I personally made sure AJ sent his RSVP for tonight.” I give my best friend a wicked grin. “There’s no fucking way I’m going to let him tell me who I can and can’t invite into our club.”
“For real,” he mutters. What I don’t tell my best friend is that he also threatened to remove himself as guarantor and demand interest on his initial investment for Bella Donna, which would dampen our efforts to expand. But I’m working on a plan to make Patrick a non-issue.
“Don’t even give him a second thought. Go and enjoy yourself. Maybe finally find yourself someone to keep your bed warm tonight, yeah?” I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Spoken like a true playboy,” he says with a smirk and a wink.
“You gotta be in it to win it.” I play along, shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly, omitting that there’s only one woman I both want to win and be buried in. “I’ve gotta go get prepared for my set. Keep a scotch ready for me.”
I looked around the VIP section roped off specifically for ours and Raf’s guests one more time. I still can’t see her in the sea of famous faces, but I’ll have a bird’s eye view of the entire club from the DJ booth, so if she’s here I’ll find her.
I take the steps up to the DJ booth two at a time and get ready to swap out with our other resident DJ, Trix Six.
Trix is pint-sized but what she lacks in height she makes up for with talent and her take no-shit attitude. With her long, light violet, pin-straight hair and a penchant for daring platform sneakers and leather miniskirts, she’s hard to miss. She cornered me and Sebastian one night when she made it up to the VIP area with one of her friends and wouldn’t take no for an answer. We asked her to show us what she was made of then and there. The crowd went wild for her knack of blending old house with new electro and current pop beats. She’s been part of the Bella Donna family since.