Page 48 of Always Mine

“Awful, isn’t it.” I realize we’re talking about the weather, the safest topic two strangers can converse about when they’re trying to figure each other out. Giving her a chance, I latch on to another common interest instead. “I’m going to Natalia’s exhibition as well. I’m a complete amateur, but I love photography, too,” I say honestly, gesturing to her coffee.

“Oh my God! Really? I’m going with my friend who’s coordinating the entire event. That’s who I’m staying with while I’m here. I kinda sprung that on my cousin and Marco last minute.”

She takes a sip of her coffee, but I can see her satisfied smile behind it. “Actually, you should come with us!” she exclaims setting down her cup and excitedly pulling her phone out again. She types something into it before handing it over to me. I see she’s opened a new contact ready for me to enter my details.

“Wait! You would probably know her, Arabella Belmont? I feel like she mentioned you or maybe one of your brothers, but I can’t fully remember.” She taps her lip like she’s trying to recall the details and shrugs her shoulders. “It was a few years ago. We were pretty fucked up that night.”

The murmur of raised voices pulls my attention towards Raf’s office at the other end of the hall. Chiara follows my gaze. Moments later both men exit and stride towards my office. Neither of us say a word, almost like we’re transfixed. I see a flash of light out of the corner of my eye.

When I look over to her, Chiara has her camera in her hands. She brings it closer to me, so I see the shot on the screen. She’s incredibly talented. The image is amazing. It captures the intensity of Raf’s personality perfectly. He’s mid-stride, the lighting highlighting his chiseled features and broody stare. It gives off an air of strength, power and prestige.

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Possessive in all-black is a snack. But that man right there, filling out every inch of that suit meticulously tailored to him,” she says, aiming a long pointed red fingernail directly at Raf. “Mmmmmm. He has complete big dick energy. I’m so here for it.”

I look up to find both men looming in my door. Raf is glowering at us, and Marco looks all shades of amused but also confused.

“Did you just take a picture of us?” Raf snaps

“Technically just you. No offense, Marco.”

Marco raises both hands. “None taken.”

Raf’s not done with his line of questioning yet. “Why would you take my photo without my consent?”

“Capturing you in your element. All that big dick lawyer energy is too good not to immortalize. Think of it as your new headshot,” Chiara retorts.

Marco and I both try hard to stifle our laughs. She really is something else.

“I’m so glad you find this shit show amusing,” Raf says through gritted teeth before turning and striding back to his office.

Not at all deterred by his less than charming reaction, she calls after him. “Don’t worry! I’ll send you a signed copy so you can frame it and put it on your desk.”

Now I’m openly laughing. There’s no doubt this girl’s intent is to strike like lightning. Electric, illuminating, and set on giving you a shock.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Chiara says, gathering her things. “I’m sensing you two might need a minute, so I’ll meet you by the lift.”

Then she’s gone, and it’s just the two of us. Relief washes over me like it always does in his presence, at the same time the heavy weight of his questioning stare consumes all the available oxygen. The truth hits me like a freight train, making it hard to breathe. My emotions, moods, the beat of my heart and every decision I’ve made since realizing I was in love with Marco have been tethered to him. But until I can learn to breathe on my own, I can’t be with him the way my body and soul crave.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I reply quietly and then quickly look down at my hands, anxiously picking the side of my thumb.

“Thanks for keeping Chiara entertained while I spoke to your brother.”

I nod my acknowledgement, but don’t lift my eyes. I know he’s getting closer; I can feel it in the way tingles erupt on my skin whenever he’s near. I lean back against my desk for supportand then he’s right there. His signature crisp woodsy cologne enveloping me before I feel his featherlight touch under my chin. He gently tilts my head up so I have no other choice but to get lost in the pools of green marred with worry and hurt.

“Soph, please tell me you don’t believe one word of that fucking blog?”

He’s not going to play games today, even if the ties that bind us and—consequently severed us—all started with one. I don’t answer so he keeps talking, his voice low and hushed, his stare intense and pleading.

“Whatever you think those pictures of me and Chiara mean, you’re dead wrong. I swear on my life. In fact—I swear on her life, seeing as I was saving her from face planting the sidewalk when some fuckwit decided to invade my privacy. Who wears four-inch stilettos in the dead of winter?”

I bite my lip to stop the smile that wants to free itself. He looks so damn sexy when he’s indignant.

He uses his thumb to free my lip, gently caressing it while he implores me to explain my chaotic—dare I say, almost unhinged—behavior.

“I just saw the way she was looking at you with so much intensity in her eyes. The way she clung to you. I mean, why shouldn’t you date or fuck whoever you want.”

Marco flinches at my words and tenses his jaw, but I’m on a roll now so I don’t let him interrupt me.