Chapter 58
Chapter fifty-eight
Surprises
Marco
After a few rounds of drinks at Le Sip and lively conversation that runs the gamut from teasing to banter and some unreciprocated flirting between Chiara and a broody Raf, we make our way to the Natalia Hirsch photography exhibition.
As promised, Sophia leads us to a side door so we can avoid the media and red carpet rolled out for the event.
Arabella is in work-mode and not able to give Luca her attention, yet he still dotes on her, bringing her water and some glucose lollies to keep her energy up.
“Did you see the way she smiled at me when I took her water? And the way she placed a hand on my chest and leaned in to kiss my cheek to say thank you? We texted this afternoon. I think she might be changing her mind about us. What do you think?” Luca babbles, clearly trying to find signs pointing to answers that I just don’t think he’s going to find tonight.
“Bro, last time I checked, I wasn’t fucking cupid,” I say jokingly.
“Fuck you. I just need someone who understands to talk to. You and my sister clearly had feelings for a long time before you became this fucking lovesick,” he says with a grimace, gesturing between me and Sophia, who is tucked into my other side but fully invested in a conversation with Chiara, who’s explaining to her the inspiration behind the photo series we’re currently standing in front of with Stella, Evie, and Seb.
“Isn’t she talented,” comes a voice belonging to Natalia Hirsch herself from behind us. I move to make room for her in our little group. “I knew the moment I worked with Chiara that she would be an asset on my team.”
“That’s a huge compliment, but I have a lot to learn,” says Chiara, almost awestruck.
“You have natural instincts, my girl. Now, introduce me to your friends.”
A hand claps me on the shoulder. “What did I miss?” AJ asks as he pushes his way through.
“AJ?” Chiara whips her head around to find her cousin. “What are you doing here?” She’s trying to remain calm, but her voice sounds an octave higher than usual.
“Chiara was just about to make introductions,” Natalia says with laugh, holding out her hand. “I guess we’ll start with you. I’m Natalia. Lovely to meet you, AJ.”
Her inflection makes is sound more like a question, and AJ nods as he takes her hand and kisses it.
“The one and only. The pleasure is all mine.”
Chiara stifles an embarrassed groan as the rest of us stare on, amused.
Ignoring her cousin’s antics, Chiara makes introductions to the rest of the group, and they all chat some more about upcoming assignments and which images from the exhibition already have buyers lined up.
I notice the way Raf watches Chiara. I can tell he finds her fascinating, but he’s desperate to fight it.
Arabella signals to Natalia that she’s wanted elsewhere.
“I’ve got to keep mingling, but it was nice to meet you all.
Thanks for coming out to support me.” Then she turns and embraces Chiara.
“You just let me know your start date, and I’ll have my EA sort out all the paperwork you’ll need to complete.
Then we can get your sponsorship sorted so you can stay in New York,” Natalia says to Chiara.
“It would be great to have you on board for a major shoot we have coming up.”
“Excuse me, what?” hisses AJ. “What the fuck is she talking about, sponsorship and staying in New York?”
Chiara avoids his question. “Please excuse his uncouth behavior. I’ll be in touch.”
Once Natalia is out of earshot, AJ repeats his question. “Chiara, what the fuck is she talking about?”
“Oh God! I think I’m going to need another drink to survive this.” She waves down a waitress with a tray.
“Have you lost your fucki—” His lecture is cut off by Raf’s deep voice.
“If you’re moving to New York, you need to make sure you have all your sponsorship and immigration papers filled in correctly, or you could risk deportation.”
“Thanks, Daaaad,” she claps back in response to his condescending tone. “For your information, I’m working on it. But I’ll let you know if I require your legal services.”
“We’ll be having a fucking conversation about this, Chi,” AJ commands. “When my dad hears about this, you won’t need a lawyer, you’ll fucking need Jesus.”
The waitress Chiara flagged down appears from the opposite side, and as she goes to hand Chiara her drink, a familiar voice that I wish I could erase forever cuts through the air.
“I can’t summon Jesus, but legal services do happen to be my specialty.” The sneer in the tone gives him away. Arty pushes his way into the little group we’ve formed. This fucker is insidious. Like mold that thrives in dank and damp crevices and spreads stealthily, ruining everything in its path.
Three things happen at once.
The waitress snaps up towards Arty’s voice, and when she spots him, her face turns a ghostly shade of white, and the champagne flute drops from her fingers, shattering with a high-pitched crash.
The commotion forces AJ to look at the waitress.
She looks vaguely familiar, and AJ confirms I must have seen her recently when he rushes to the waitress and grabs the tray from her trembling hand.
“Lilah, are you okay?” She turns and rushes off, AJ following in hot pursuit, passing off the tray to another server on his way.
Sophia gasps in concern, taking in Arty’s split lip, the bruises marring the left side of his face, and what appears to be a broken wrist. “Arty, what happened to you?” With his glare fixed directly on me, he laughs mirthlessly.
“Oh, you know, Sophia darling, just tripped over my own feet when I was out for a run.” He turns his glare in the direction AJ disappeared to.
“Puts a whole new meaning on killer workout.”
“Who the fuck are you calling darling?” I think you need another black eye is what I want to say. Sophia darts her eyes from him to me, unsure what to make of all of this.
“Marco,” Sophia chides with a reassuring hand on my bicep, before adding sincerely, “Well, I hope you mend up soon, Arty.”
Raf narrows his eyes at me, the wheels turning. Seb and Luca’s stance mirrors my own. Tense and on high alert.
“I’m sure it will all work out perfectly fine,” Arty says. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find Arabella. Reserve myself some fine piece of art.”
I don’t miss the double play of his words. I grind my molars, but Luca steps forwards. “Don’t even think about fucking up her night. She’s worked too hard to pull this together.”
“Or what, hotshot?”
“Or you’re going to wish you never showed your battered face here tonight,” snarls AJ as he returns to the group.
Arty gives a wicked grin in response and walks away whistling. He’s up to no good. I can sense it.
A short time later, I leave Sophia’s side for the first time to use the restroom.
I’m nearing the men’s when raised voices echo through the quiet.
One sounds distinctly female and distressed and the other nasally and belonging to a male.
I take a detour, following where they seem to be coming from.
I notice a janitor’s cupboard with a sliver of light coming from underneath it.
The voices grow louder as I get closer. I throw the door open to find Arty looming over a frightened-looking Arabella, who’s been backed into a wall.
“What the hell is happening here?” I snap.
Arty swings his head towards me, and I notice immediately from the wild look in his eyes that he’s high as a kite.
“Fuck right off, Marco,” he retorts. “This has nothing to do with you.”
I’m in no mood to converse or negotiate with a terrorist. I march straight in and grab him by the scruff of his neck.
He laughs maniacally, zeroing in on Arabella.
“Is this what you want, Arabella? For everyone to see how good you look strung out and on your knees for me? You just never know how these things anonymously end up all over the internet.”
Tears stream silently down Arabella’s pretty face now. I can feel the shame vibrating from her. Arty’s all but confirmed the suspicions I’ve had all along. She’s one of his victims. That’s all it takes for me to flip a switch.
I push him up against the wall and rear my fist back, ready punch him in the face and break his nose to pieces. Arabella’s frantic pleas break through the whooshing in my ears.
“Marco, please, please! He’s not worth it! If he goes out there bloodied in front of all the media, this whole event is ruined. This is my big chance to prove to my father I’m not a fuck up. Please.”
I lower my fist now, but I don’t let him go. “I better not fucking see you at the after party. If you show your face at Bella Donna tonight, I will finish the job good and proper.”
“I’ve got whiplash trying to keep up with whose rules we’re following, but if we’re going eye for an eye, I’d suggest you watch your fucking back.”
He thrashes against me to shrug me off, and I don’t put up a fight this time. “Don’t forget I have everything I need to drag your name and reputation through the mud, Arabella. Do not push me.” Then he legs it out of there.
“Did he hurt you?” I demand.
“I carry the hurt of his actions every fucking day,” she whispers.
“How do your brothers stand for this?” I softly prod.
“He sold them a very convincing story. Trying to prove otherwise requires me to unlock a lot of skeletons I won’t be able to put back.”
“Maybe it’s time to set them free,” I say gently.
“Please just keep this to yourself, okay? I just…I’m not ready to have this conversation with Luca.”
I nod. “Did you sign that paperwork? Do we have a deal?”
She gives me a watery smile. “Yes. The wheels are in motion. It’s the only bright spot right now.”
“Soon you will take back what he stole from you. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you, Marco.”
“Don’t mention it. Meet you back out there.”