Page 7 of Always Mine

You know what they say, “there’s no rest for the wicked.”

GG xoxo

Chapter five

Nothing Good Can Come Of This

Sophia

Six months later, December 31

FuckingGia“GG”Girmaldiand her petty gossip blog.

Problem is, it’s no schoolgirl blog; it’s a fucking media empire with millions of followers across all social platforms, a thriving podcast and branded merch willingly purchased and worn by even the most high-brow fashionistas. This woman is the worst type of human, one who thrives on the power her words can wield on the lives of others. Queen of Cunty-Mc-Cunt Country Club. Knowing how to play her like a fiddle is the key to getting her to come to your next social event, promote your business or services or keep your name out of her scandalous gossip blog. Even the most prestigious lawyers of NYC who boast about their features in notable publications likeLaw DigestandInside Lawhave a bat-line to GG. Anyone who’s worth their weight in society standings knows if GG puts your name on blast the attention can make you or ruin you. You can bet she uses this little nugget of power to her advantage at every opportunity.

Until this cringeworthy mention in her yearly wrap-up blog, I’ve flown mostly under her radar thanks to leaving the city for Harvard and only returning home for a few short visits.

My bestie Evie has quite the love-hate relationship with GG. As founder of a successful creative agency, which she started after finishing her degree, Evie’s clients rely on exposure on platforms likeShhh Don’t Tell Daddy. In contrast, my other bestie, Stella, a sought-after life coach and therapist, advises anyone who will listen to unsubscribe, block, and delete GG and anything she spawns. I’m firmly in the love-to-loathe camp. As much as I detest her, without her godforsaken blog, I wouldn’t have been able to feed my curiosity about what Marco was up to during my time away. More specifically, who he was sticking it in—sorry, dating. Urghh, dating. Just at the thought of the word I recall the ultimatum Marco whispered in my ear six months ago after blindsiding me with a searing kiss I swear I can still feel tingling on my lips.“You’ve got six months to get rid of him. I’ll let you leave this time. Even the score. But believe me when I say the next time you leave, you leave with me.”

“Knock, knock,” comes my dad’s deep voice from the door, interrupting my spiraling thoughts, especially the ones laced with regret for thinking if I followed Marco’s command to break up with my boyfriend, things could be different between us this time.

“Hi, Dad. You’re safe to cross the threshold.”

He comes to stand beside me and squeezes my shoulder by way of greeting since my face is currently dotted with foundation ready to be buffed in.

“This is a new look for you,” he jokes, taking in my fluffy white bathrobe perfectly accessorized with a white towel wrapped around my head.

“What? You don’t think I can carry this look?”

“You’re my princess, so I may be a little biased when I say you can wear anything and still look beautiful, but I think you might need to step it up a little for tonight’s festivities—especially seeing as you could be meeting your future husband for the first time.”He gives me one of hisdon’t disappoint medad looks. “I’m sure you’ve seen the article. There’s a lot of eyes on you, sweetheart.”

“Daaadd. Please, not this again. I literally just got back and you’re already trying to marry me off. I don’t need help finding a man. In fact, I’m steering clear of them to focus on my career. You know that’s why I broke up with Aiden.”

That might not be entirely true. In fact, it’s a complete lie. But I’m not under oath, so there’s no way I’m admitting to my dad that I let my actions be dictated by my feelings for Marco—again.

“Aren’t you the same man who said, and I quote, ‘Who would read—let alone take notice of anything written in a trashy gossip blog for uneducated heathens.’” I raise my eyebrows at him imploringly.

“Well, as lawyers, it’s our job to always have our finger on the pulse. Look in unexpected places for the missing clues and possible leads.”

I roll my eyes at him in exasperation, because of course he’d find some way to lawyer-speak himself out of what’s really happening. This is his parade and I’m the prized pig.

“Here’s what you need to know about tonight.” In true Patrick Princi fashion, he completely ignores my request and carries on with executing the plan he’s so carefully laid out for me.

“Your mother and I worked with Elena to carefully select tonight’s guest list. The photographers are here to get photos of you mingling in the right circles. Get them out to the society pages. Of course, people know who you are, but you’re not ingratiated into the law circle here in the city.” He holds his hands up in faux surrender to cut off my protest. “I know. I know. It’s all my fault you ended up at Harvard—which, I might add, was still the best decision seeing as you graduated with honors.” He gives me a told-you-so look, then continues a mile a minute.

I pretend to listen, responding in all the right openings even though it’s clearly a one-sided conversation. “I also invited some exceptional candidates who I think would make a potential suitor, but if you ask me, I think you should set your sights on ArthurBartholomew Jones. He’s a fine young man. A little older and comes from a prestigious law family. A great lawyer in his own right. You’d make a spectacular couple.”

From the moment my mom excitedly told me about tonight’s New Year’s Eve event and the carefully curated guestlist, I understood the weighty implication. The same one my dad is spelling out to me. It’s time to find a well-matched suitor and entrench myself in the world where your every move is akin to a game of chess.

I’m silent for far longer than is common for me. Dad takes my lack of words as being nervous.

Rounding to stand in front of me and placing both hands on my shoulders so he can look me in the eye, he continues. “There’s no need to be anxious, Princess, I promise the plan I have in motion will have you moving in the right circles in no time.”

Spoiler: I’m not anxious. I’m just lost in a tidal wave of emotions as I’m transported back to that night six years ago. The night Marco saved me from the grubby paws of Hamptons Ken, also known as Arthur Bartholomew Jones. The night he broke my whole heart.God, get over it, Sophia. Get over him,I scold myself.You’ve got bigger things to worry about.

Every fiber of my being detests what this shit show debut to society is about, and yet the unspoken expectations to live up to the family name float through the great halls of our palatial home like a sinister whisper. People-pleasing is a hard habit to kick. I need space to formulate a plan for tonight, so my smartest play is to simply smile and nod so my dad will just leave my room.

Just like chess, in this world the king might hold the power, but the queen is the most powerful. One thing they’ll all soon learn is that this queen fixes her own crown.