Page 44 of Always Mine
Chapter twenty
Fucking Playboys
Sophia
Theofficedoesn’tofficiallyreopen until next week, but Raf mentioned he would be going in to work on some urgent paperwork, so I came in with him. When I walk into my new office next week, I want it to feel familiar and not like I’m a stranger in my own home. From what I can tell, having watched Raf over the years, there are some cases that have you spending more time at the office than home. I’ve been at it for a few hours, reorganizing my stationery in draws, hanging a trio of photographs on the wall and setting my desk up so all my personal effects are just right. The playlist Marco made me is playing in the background. A small smile tugs when I think of him and his random texts from earlier this morning. Since when does Marco read spicy Why Choose romance books? He’s got some explaining to do. When I finally decide to see him again, that is. God! Why did I decide to take up the fight against my heart’s obsession with him now? It’s a rhetorical question, but the sensible part of my brain fills in the gaps—to focus on your career and prove you’re an independent woman who knows your worth. Every other part of me just plain wants him. Around me. Deep within me. Consuming me.
A notification tone breaks through the song, pulling my attention from the incessant chatter in my own head.
Shhh Don’t Tell Daddy: 1 new blog post
Curiosity gets the better of me. I click on the notification, silently berating myself both for agreeing to receive notifications let alone willingly reading a word written by that parasite of a woman. A collection of images fills my screen accompanied with words that have my heart falling to my feet.
I can’t help myself. I take a screenshot of the images from GG’s blog and fire off one solitary text.
Me:
Is she for “research purposes” too?
The satisfaction of turning his own banter back on him dissipates quickly. In its place returns that familiar sickening, sinking feeling. The one that suggests I read the signs all wrong—again. Part of me knows it’s idiotic to believe anything written in a gossip blog. The other part knows that often there’s a semblance of truth to them. Exhibit A: the last blog post about me and Marco.
They say the definition of madness is doing the same thing twice and expecting a different outcome. I don’t know who “they” are, but clearly I’m a glutton for punishment, because even when I promise to give myself space from him, I end up ensnared right back in this web of feelings and history between us. Tears pool in my eyes thick and fast, but even blanketed under my emotions, I know it’s time to face my biggest fear. Marco Marrone is a playboy with perfect lips made for telling sweet little lies.
Chapter twenty-one
Just My Fucking Luck
Marco
Toavoidanothernear-deathexperience by fuck-me boots, AJ waits with Chiara while I go and fetch the car from where it’s parked. I bring it around to the front of Joey’s, still shaking my head with amusement. Who the fuck wears sky-high stilettos in the thick of a New York winter? But one look at her designer outfit and my guess is she cares more about fashion than function. Pulling up to the curb where she was waits with AJ, I keep the car running and hop out to help her get settled in the back seat, adjusting the heat so she can get warm again after her impromptu photoshoot. Turning my attention back to AJ, I extend my hand out to him. “See you soon, brother. She’s a danger to herself, but she’s safe with me.” He grasps my outstretched hand and pulls me in to bump his shoulder with mine. I go to pull away, but he holds me in place.
“I better not fucking regret this decision, Marco. If it was up to me, I would have put that little devil straight back on that jet for pulling this hotel stunt. But since you insist, this is your problem now.” He pauses and flashes me a menacing smile for good measure. “I’m trusting you to make sure she keeps the fuck out of trouble so it doesn’t becomemine.”
“Received loud and clear. Vault does the security for the Belmont family, so I assure you we have it sorted. We installed all the security cameras at Arabella’s apartment. Top of the line and multiple viewpoints. I’ve already got my boys set up on surveillance to watch the house day and night.”
“Good to hear. Let me know when the rest of that paperwork is sorted on your end for La Rosa. I want to get it all closed off before any more shit can go sideways.”
“It’s all in motion. It’ll all be sorted by the end of the week.” I squeeze his hand in my own warning. “Is there anything else I should know about?”
“It’s been handled. Just get it done.”
His tone brooks no argument, and I’m distracted by my phone buzzing incessantly in my pocket with text notifications.
The deep rumble of an engine puts an end to any further questions. AJ saunters towards the sleek black Ferrari now gliding up beside us with a purr. The doors automatically lift open and Xander, AJ’s second in charge, jumps out, making way for AJ to take the driver’s seat while he folds himself into the passenger seat. The man is a literal wall of muscle honed from lifting heavy weights. The type of guy you want around in a fight.
With one final nod at me over the roof of his luxury car to acknowledge we’re both on the same page, he climbs in and guns it down the street.
I hop back into the car, hoping to steal a look at the texts I’ve received while also bracing myself for another request to blare audio porn through my car, but my phone rings before either of those things can happen.
It’s Raf. Calling again. He’s being an insistent motherfucker today. I consider firing back one of those annoying automated “I’m busy” texts seeing as he clearly didn’t understand my words. But AJ’sparting command gnaws at me, and my intuition screams that Raf’s insistence to see me today is related. I disconnect the Bluetooth from the car and connect to my earbuds instead so Chiara only gets one side of the conversation this time. I don’t want to risk Raf blurting out something not for her ears.
“You better be on your way to the office. And if you’re not, turn the car around and get here. We may have a problem.”
The line goes dead, and I waste no time following his order.
I feel a tug on my sleeve and look down to see Chiara has poked her head between the seats. A wicked smile splits her face. “Please tell me I get to meet Big Bad Raf now.”
It’s the very last thing I fucking need, but the office is on the way to Arabella’s apartment, so it makes sense. Chiara squeals, and I can’t help but think how disappointed she’s going to be if she’s expecting a friendly reception from him; if there’s one thing Raf Princi does not do, it’s warm and fuzzy.