Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Ninety-Nine Problems
Marco
The fury burning in Sophia’s glare is at odds with her icy reception.
What in the actual fuck is going on right now?
Our last text exchange was easygoing. Flirty almost bordering on sexting, given my line of questioning.
Is that it? Is she mad at me because she asked for space and I insisted on trying to inch myself back in?
Even dressed down in leather leggings, chunky boots and a cream turtleneck, Sophia looks stunning.
But it doesn’t escape me that she looks like she’s been crying.
Did she have another fight with her dad over me?
Honest to God, if he’s pressuring her to go on a date with motherfucking Arty, I won’t hesitate to confront him.
The mighty Patrick Princi doesn’t scare me anymore.
I sure as shit have no use for his money.
Once fooled, twice shy and all that. A sharp jab to my ribs pulls me from my inner turmoil.
“Marco, don’t be rude. Introduce me to your friend.” Looking between each of us again, Chiara continues with uncertainty, “I’m assuming you two know each other. Yes?”
Clearing my throat which suddenly feels dry and scratchy, I do as the tiny taskmaster asks. “Chiara, this is Sophia Princi, Sop—”
But Chiara cuts me off before I have a chance to finish the introductions. I have a feeling this is going to be a common occurrence.
“Holy fuck. Are you Sophia Princi? As in Luca Princi, F1 superstar’s sister? Oh my God! He’s so delicious. And hilarious—have you seen his TikToks?”
Confusion swirls in Sophia’s eyes, and even red-rimmed they’re the prettiest eyes I’ve ever stared into.
I hate the sadness I see there, even if she’s trying to hide it with this ice queen act.
Reluctantly, Sophia extends her hand. “The very one and the same. But you can call me Sophia. More professional for the courtroom than ‘Luca’s little sister’. ”
Her tone is clipped and her demeanor lacks the warmth that would usually disarm as intended.
“Oh yes, yes. Of course,” Chiara stammers, unsure how to take Sophia’s curtness.
The silence is deafening, and I’m confused as all hell as to what is going on right now.
“And what should I call you?”
The question is directed at Chiara, but the accusatory tone feels squarely directed at me.
“Oh, yes, sorry! I cut this one off before, didn’t I?” Sophia tracks Chiara’s hand as it connects with my bicep.
“I’m Chiara Gigioliotti. And this lucky guy here is my keeper,” she says with a wink.
I see Sophia’s jaw clench, like she might be grinding her molars. Fuck. This is going from bad to worse.
“Chiara is here for the Natalia Hirsch exhibition,” I explain. “I’m her assigned driver while she’s in town.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Well, I’m on my way out now, but I might see you both there.” She says it like she’s not the one I’m going with. Fat fucking chance.
I’m trying to catch her eye to silently communicate Chiara’s a client, and to be clued in on what is happening right now.
But she refuses to meet it. My patience is waning.
I need to see Raf, and the sooner I can get that done, the sooner I can get Sophia alone to ask her what’s got her wound up tighter than a nun in a fucking convent.
“Raf needs to see me. Do you mind buzzing us up?”
Sophia’s face falls as she looks to her hand and realizes the only thing she’s holding is her phone.
“You go. I’m sure you have things to do.
I’ll call Raf to come and get us,” I say, swiping to get into my phone, the screen littered with notifications.
It’s then that I remember the unopened text from Sophia.
I quickly navigate to my messages and open the one from her.
One look at the six words and screenshot of the images accompanying them make my stomach drop out.
Fuck me. My eyes fly to Sophia’s. She bores her stare right into mine, and the pain I see in them hits me square in the chest. Even after I confessed the way I feel about her, happily got on my knees to show her, the fact that she’s even entertaining the possibility there’s an element of truth in what she’s seen in the stupid gossip blog hits like a bullet.
The dark shadow of my biggest fucking regret still rules her opinion of me.
“About damn time you showed up,” is how Raf greets me when he arrives to the ground floor. I glare at him. A warning and a fuck you rolled in one. He knows me well enough to read my mood and not to try me.
Then turning to his sister, he asks. “Why didn’t you just buzz Marco up?”
“I accidentally left my bag in the office.”
“It’s not like you to forget your precious Chanel,” he quips. “Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chit-chat, I’ve got work to do. What are you waiting for?” he asks, indicating towards my arm holding the door open for Chiara, who’s once again lost in whatever she’s doing on her phone.
“Excuse me, Miss. Are you getting in?” Raf calls out impatiently.
Chiara finally looks up and a devilish grin spreads across her face as she enters the elevator, not even a little bit deterred by Raf’s annoyance.
Once she’s firmly inside, she sizes up Raf, and with glittering eyes, she waves her fingers in his direction, “Ahhh. You must be the infamous Big Bad Raf.”
I snort a laugh. This woman really doesn’t have any filter.
Raf shoots daggers at her before he darts a hard look at me.
I just shrug my shoulders at him. You’re the one who summoned me, I silently communicate.
I notice Sophia also has a ghost of a smile on her face, though she’s still refusing to make eye contact.
Trying to bring some semblance of professionalism to the situation, I make a formal introduction.
“Chiara, this is Raf Princi, my lawyer who urgently needed to see me. Raf, this is Chiara, AJ’s cousin and my client.
” I emphasize the last part more for Sophia’s sake than Raf’s.
I hope it will put her mind at ease about what she’s seen and what she thinks it means.
This time she does meet my gaze, and the haze of uncertainty clouding them sends a jolt of unease through me.
I already know we’ve taken another ten steps back.
The more I try and close the space created by time, the more Sophia seems adamant on seeing through her quest of putting oceans between us.
She’s convinced distancing herself from me is the answer to all her unanswered questions.
It’s not. All she needs to do is let me love, protect, and worship her with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s adored.
In the light of day and in the darkness of my dreams, it’s always been her.
But something tells me even after all the lines we’ve crossed since she’s been back, I’m still paying for the sins of my lies six years ago.
When we arrive on the level that’s home to Princi Law & Associates, Sophia steps off first, followed by Chiara. Raf nods towards his office, telling me to follow him.
“Would it be okay if I use the restroom?” Chiara asks. Raf’s already walking into his office, so the task falls to Sophia, who looks less than thrilled at Chiara’s presence.
“I’ll show you where it is.”
I take that as my cue to go and join Raf. The floor-to-ceiling windows reveal the view of the striking Manhattan skyline. An urban jungle of skyscrapers and high-rise buildings stands proud and powerful. Today the warmth and sparkle of blue skies is dampened by the winter fog blanketing the city.
All broody, gray and stormy. Identical to Raf’s current mood.
Scowling he stands behind the large walnut desk, arms braced in front of him, the seams of his bespoke charcoal suit pulled taut under the tension.
I take a seat across from him and steeple my fingers under my chin, waiting for his tirade.
“Let me get this straight. That tiny woman wearing some sort of bear as a coat and waving spirit fingers at me is related to AJ Gigioliotti?”
“You’re already on nickname basis with her, so you tell me,” I tease.
“Why the fuck would you bring her with you?” Raf demands.
“As I tried to explain multiple times when you were blowing up my phone, I’m on a fucking job.
AJ has me doing security detail, including driving her around while she’s in New York.
She refused to travel with her uncle’s security, and he can’t use his men here because there is too much heat on them thanks to the shit going down with the Rizzo family.
He was worried that would make her more of a target, so he called in a favor with me. ”
“Motherfucker!” he growls out, though I can’t pinpoint who or what has warranted the curse, so I fill in some blanks for him.
“And, well, you’ve met her. It’s like trying to tame a wild horse. As it is, she’s already thrown me a curveball. She’s staying with Arabella Belmont and not at the hotel with twenty-four hour security she told her uncle she’d be staying at.”
Raf takes a big breath then pushes it back out, like he’s trying to get his whole body under control and not just his breathing.
“I just finished going through all the contracts for your business deal and acquisition of La Rosa with AJ Gigioliotti.”
He stares at me, and I see the gears shift and his intimidation soften. He’s not the big shot lawyer anymore. He’s Raf, my brother and one of my closest friends.
“Marco, are you sure about this? Are you sure this is good for your business reputation and Sebastian’s? Bella Donna makes you a package deal.”
“Raf, stop talking in riddles. Just spit it out.”
“I’ve been going through all the paperwork for La Rosa.
Everything from building and pest inspections to all the sustainability and compliance reports.
I’d never heard of the law firm representing La Rosa.
It’s a huge sale. I thought they would be using one of the regulars who specialize in conveyancing.
So, I did a bit of digging and discovered that Arty Bartholomew Jones is the director of Duo Law—the same firm acting on behalf of all the shell companies who run the clubs and bars owned by the Rizzos. ”
“What the fuck! Isn’t he an entertainment lawyer?”
“Yes. Most of us just stick to our specialist fields, but if he’s got the qualifications, there’s nothing stopping him from practicing in other disciplines too.”
“It’s all legitimate. I saw AJ just before I came here. He confirmed he’s smoothed things over on his end.”
Raf’s expression darkens, and he looks at me pointedly. “On paper it’s all legitimate, but I’m worried about the unwarranted attention you might be inviting, and the ammunition you might be providing people intent on muddying your reputation.”
The pieces click. Arty is a mole for the Rizzos. “Raf, it’s that motherfucker Arty who’s been feeding your dad information about my business dealings.”
Joke’s on him though, because the skeletons I know are hidden in his closet are enough to hang him. But I’ll bide my time.
“It could just be a coincidence, but…”
“I don’t believe in fucking coincidences.”
My friend just nods his head, while mine starts to pound. This new revelation on top of the blog blast and the responsibility AJ has given me to keep Chiara safe starts to feel like a noose around my neck.
First things first. I need to get Sophia alone.