Chapter 3 Dad Wins Again
Chapter three
Dad Wins Again
Sophia
Later that night
Oh God. I’m so fucked.
Not in the literal sense, even if the tall, blond guy planting sloppy kisses on my neck might have other ideas. No, I’m fucked in the way where I realized perhaps one, two or maybe three drinks too late that the “lolly water” might have had a higher alcohol content than its sweet pink color let on.
This party sucks. I only came to escape the embarrassment of today’s events; instead flashbacks swirl with the heady mix of alcohol and dance music and I find myself analyzing how I completely misread all the signs. Or did I?
What was it he said this morning when I passed him on the beach?
“Are you trying to outshine the sun today, Soph?” That’s not something a brother would say, surely.
I didn’t miss the way he gave my itty-bitty yellow bikini a long unhurried once-over from his spot on the sand.
I’m certain he noticed me take in his gloriously muscular bare chest and rippling abs on display, shining with a mix of sweat and sunscreen.
Buoyed by having his attention, I’d swayed my hips a little more than necessary and really elongated my stride as I sauntered past him into the clear turquoise water, imagining all the ways I would kiss his skin if I were the sun.
Imagining what it would feel like to be kissed by Marco. Except I think that ship has sailed.
I probably—most definitely—have far less food in my stomach than required to counter the effects of said pretty pink lolly water.
After today, I can confidently say I left my appetite at the bottom of the ocean.
Along with my dignity. Even though I’m here to forget, I refuse to turn around to face the older guy as we dance on the makeshift dance floor of this party for fear he might try and fuck me right here in front of everyone.
That is not how I envisioned losing my virginity, and he is most definitely not the main character in that fantasy.
That starring role is reserved for someone with piercing green eyes and full, kissable lips.
The very same someone whose name sends a wave of goosebumps cascading over my body just like his gaze did today as it slowly slid over my barely covered body in the tiny bikini I chose for maximum visibility.
Trying to avoid said green-eyed boy is the reason I’m at the holiday home belonging to some rich lawyer friend of my family.
I’m buzzed and desperate to get away from Hamptons Ken.
I scan the room for my friends and come up empty.
My brother Sebastian promised me that he would be close by, and to call him as soon as I was ready to leave.
Five SOS messages and three missed calls later he’s still nowhere to be seen, either.
Now I’m at risk of being drowned in Hamptons Ken’s saliva.
Anthony, Arnold, Anton? Who the hell knows what his actual name is because all his words sounded like garble in my inebriated state, too hard to hear with the dance music thumping around us.
Once I realized no one was coming to rescue me, I suggested we dance to shut him up about how he’s about to be the next hotshot celebrity lawyer when he joins his father’s entertainment law firm.
I’m not sure if he knew exactly who I was or that my father is one of New York’s most sought-after criminal lawyers.
I decided against bringing attention to the fact, certain it would only encourage more of his self-absorbed pompous chatter.
So, in all my buzzed brilliance, I thought dragging him onto the dance floor would be a good idea.
Wrong again. It just egged him on further, because instead of using his mouth to talk incessantly, he’s now using it to assault my neck, pushing his erection into my back, setting off my panic buttons.
Unlike in the water with Marco, when the feel of him against me set off a flurry of tingles deep within.
The memory is shattered when he puts his lips to my ear.
“Let’s take this somewhere quieter. Come upstairs to my room so I can show you what I can do to this hot little body.
” My breath hitches, and not for the reason he assumes.
Oh God! Now the room is spinning, and I still can’t find either of my two best friends.
I remember Evie said she needed to go to the bathroom, but that was a while ago, and Stella was getting friendly with a guy I recognize from the gelato bar we went to earlier today, no doubt making good on her intention of finding a hookup tonight.
“Oooh you like that idea, don’t you,” he says lasciviously.
It’s then that I feel a looming presence and hear the low, menacing growl of a very familiar voice. One that lives rent-free in my daydreams and has replayed itself on a husky loop since our ocean rendezvous.
“Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Her.” He’s calm, but his menacing tone promises hell if this guy doesn’t do as commanded.
“Marco?” I shout over the music as I extricate myself from Hamptons Ken and throw my arms around his neck, too relieved to worry about my earlier embarrassment.
“You came! I can’t believe you came! Thank you so much for saving me.
Stoopid Sebastian never answers his phone.
” I hiccup. It’s then that I realize we have an audience, and Hamptons Ken’s playboy smile from earlier has left the building.
“Can’t you see you’re interrupting something here, Marrone?
” he drawls arrogantly, trying his luck to reach for me.
No chance. Marco pushes me behind him before he steps up to him.
“Arty, if you value your fucking life, I suggest you back the fuck up and forget you ever met her, let alone had your hands anywhere near her body.” They remain locked in some sort of impasse for what feels like a million years but must only be momentary.
“She might be leaving with you now, but believe me when I say it’s my arm she’ll be on one day.” He saunters away smugly without looking back.
The rush of relief combined with my sky-high heels cause me to stumble.
Before I can fall, I’m being wrapped up in Marco’s strong arms. Lifting me as though I weigh nothing, he carries me from the party to his car.
Like in the water, I can’t help but notice the way it feels to have my body pressed to his.
How it feels right, but more than that, how he feels safe.
Opening the passenger door, he places me inside gently.
“Come on, Kitten. In you go.” I look up at him as he straps me in and before I can stop it, my truth tumbles out of my mouth.
“You’re like my very own Prince Charming, Marco-Boy.
Always saving me. I think you just might be the love of my life—even if I don’t turn you on.
” At this angle, our lips are a breath apart and I can almost see my own reflection in his piercing green eyes that shine with an emotion I’ve never seen in them.
“You must’ve been drinking the Kool Aid considering you wanted nothing to do with me when we got back from the beach this afternoon.
” The arrogance from earlier is gone and there’s a slight tremor in his voice.
His Adam’s apple bobs like he’s trying to swallow away something stuck in his throat.
Regret? Longing? Sadness? It makes me realize maybe he’s just as affected by the invisible pull of something more between us that threatens to snap.
“Truth or dare?” I ask.
“Truth.”
Emboldened by alcohol, I gently rest my forehead against his.
“Tell me how you really feel. That there’s no reason for me to fight my dad and stay in New York.
” I swallow thickly, willing the floodgates not to open.
“Don’t you feel it too? The way your skin tingles like tiny fireflies are dancing all over your body at the slightest touch.
The way our eyes are drawn to each other no matter where we are in the room.
The way just being near each other makes everything else bearable. Tell me I’m not imagining all of this.”
He makes no move to break our connection, instead increasing the intimacy of it all by raking his fingers through my hair.
I study his face. The slope of his strong nose.
His pillowy, full lips. The ones I want to kiss before I leave for college.
Maybe forever. His sea green eyes shine like glass.
Scanning my face, almost like he’s committing it to memory.
Then he closes his eyes and presses his lips to mine in the gentlest of kisses.
Time stops and my breath hitches in my throat.
I feel like I’ve just fallen from the highest point of earth, my stomach swooping and flipping, as I fall further until I exhale and find the will to sink into the sensation of his lips against mine.
In this tiny fragment of time, everything feels right.
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 and close 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.