Seventeen #2
“You stay, enjoy the party,” I tell her. “I’ll go check on her and be right back.”
“No problem. I could use some fresh air anyway.”
She sways a little, tipsy from the drinks, but walks beside me until we reach the terrace.
“You go,” she says. “I’m going to stay out here.”
We’re on the second floor, and it’s freezing outside. She’s wearing only a thin dress. So I hesitate.
“Emily, you’ve been drinking, and it’s freezing out there. Want me to stay with you?”
She smiles and jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Our dear friend back there has already reported to Carlo that I got out. Give it two minutes and he’ll be here. Don’t worry.”
It’s only then that I notice Emily’s bodyguard trailing us.
Relieved, I head to the kids’ room. Aurora’s sitting next to the nanny, her tiny eyes battling sleep as she struggles to stay awake.
In the next room, the kids are fast asleep in a row of beds while two armed men stand guard outside the door.
I scoop her up in my arms and whisper in her ear, “Does my pretty girl want to sleep?”
“No, Mama. Read me a story.”
I smile and press a kiss to her head. I start reading her favorite, Little Red Riding Hood, but before Red even meets the big bad wolf, Aurora’s already lost in dreamland.
After tucking my girl in, I step into the hallway, ready to head back to the party.
But loud, boisterous male laughter drifting up from downstairs catches my attention.
Curious about what a men-only gathering looks like, I follow the noise down the staircase until I reach a door guarded by two men.
They glance at me with indifferent eyes.
“You want to go in?” one of them asks.
I feel the need to explain. “I need to see Maxim.”
He opens the door. “He’s in there.”
I step into a small space, and the sharp smell of chlorine tells me I’ve walked into the pool area. Laughter echoes, tangled with music. Suddenly, a roar breaks out, voices chanting in unison:
“Maxim, Maxim!”
I peek around the wall, and what I see stops my heart cold.
Maxim’s in nothing but his briefs, one hand holding a completely naked woman against his cock.
We only had two strippers, but the number of naked women at this bachelor party matches the men.
A sharp ache cuts through my chest, and I tear my eyes away.
What the hell did I expect? That a player like Maxim would turn into a saint overnight?
I feel like an idiot. Shame burns through me, raw and humiliating.
I quicken my pace, desperate to escape. I rush up the stairs, heading back to the girls’ party.
But when I reach the terrace where I left Emily, faint moans drift through the darkness.
I already know where they’re coming from, but some curious force pushes me to peek over the edge.
Emily’s wrapped in a thick blanket, leaning against the wall, while Carlo’s massive frame looms over her, kissing her with raw hunger. He lifts her leg, hooking it around his thigh, his mouth trailing down toward her breasts.
“Only God knows how much I fucking love you, Emily,” he growls in a low, primal voice.
My eyes well up with tears, and the jealous beast that reared its head back at the pool now claws at my throat, squeezing tight.
I spin on my toes and slip away from them silently.
I know Carlo already doesn’t like me as it is, catching him in the middle of making out with his wife sure as hell won’t help.
The women’s party has hit its wildest point.
The two cops are down to their briefs now, grinding on the stage.
I down a few shots of vodka and move closer.
One of them spots me, extends his hand, and without thinking, I grab it and climb up.
I don’t even know what I’m doing. It’s like I just need to let the rage out.
I dance against their bodies, pressing myself into them, and it’s not until I’m yanked back by my wrist that I snap out of it.
Emily’s wide-eyed stare hits me, and I realize I was kissing one of the strippers while everyone watched in shock.
To diffuse the awkwardness, Emily lets out a loud whoop, and as the others start dancing again, she grabs my hand and pulls me off the stage.
“I feel sick,” I mutter.
She wraps her arm around my waist and murmurs, “You’ll be fine. Party’s over. You need to get some sleep.”
***
I don’t know what wakes me, maybe the pounding headache throbbing in my skull, or maybe the sound of Carlo and Emily arguing.
“You can’t just let that bitch get away with something like this. She needs to be punished,” Emily says, trying to keep her voice down.
“For what crime?” Carlo snaps. “Recording at that party was allowed. Both the bride and groom gave permission. If Ava made a whore of herself and showed it to everyone on stage, how is the person who filmed it at fault?”
“Don’t be so harsh, Carlo. She was drunk. She didn’t even know what she was doing.”
“Let me tell you something, Emily,” Carlo fires back.
“That woman’s a walking disaster. The biggest favor I ever did her was not punishing her for the lie she told me, the one that put you and the kids in danger.
And that was only for Maxim’s sake. There’s no way in hell I’m cleaning up the mess she’s made of Maxim’s reputation.
Whatever punishment he decides for her, she’d better take it quietly and not make a sound. ”
A few seconds pass, and the voices fall silent. I crack my eyes open. The light makes my headache worse, forcing an involuntary groan out of me. Through the hazy fog clouding my vision, I see Emily approaching.
“Here, take this pill, sweetheart.”
She hands me the pill and helps me sit up on the bed. A minute later, the rich aroma of coffee from a breakfast tray fills my nose. She sets the tray in front of me and settles on the edge of the bed.
“Drink the coffee. It’ll help clear your head.”
After a few sips, the memories start falling into place, piecing together the fragments of last night, the image of Maxim, my spiraling rage, the stupidity of what I did. Only now does Carlo and Emily’s argument make sense.
I look at Emily in panic. “Someone recorded what happened last night?”
Her hair’s tied up in a messy bun, and she’s wearing a green T-shirt with blue jeans. She bites the corner of her lip, hesitating before she nods slowly.
“Someone didn’t just record it, they sent it to all the guests.”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I clap a hand over my mouth in horror.
“I’m sure it was Viola,” she goes on, “but Carlo doesn’t want to deal with that slut.”
Through the blur of my tears, her face wavers. “Has Maxim seen it too?”
She lays a hand on my knee. “I’m sorry, Ava.”
I choke on a sob and cover my face with both hands. “Mr. Bruni was right. It’s not the fault of whoever took the video. I shouldn’t be the stupid girl I am.”
“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Emily snaps.
I look at her and see her face flushed with anger, her American side flaring up.
She tosses her head, eyes wide as she goes on, “So what? You had a few too many shots, and in your drunken haze your lips brushed some guy’s.
God knows, the only woman in Italy who’s been safe from Maxim’s hands is me, and that’s only because Carlo issued a damn decree that the punishment for touching me is death.
So why the hell does Maxim, who’s done every filthy thing imaginable while stone-cold sober, get the right to punish you for something you did drunk? ”
She’s so worked up that I don’t dare tell her what drove me to those extra shots. If I did, I’ve no doubt she’d march off right now and put Maxim in a grave herself. I wipe my tears and focus on the part of her rant that stands out to me.
“Maxim wants to punish me?”
Some of the fire fades from her expression, and she shrugs. “I don’t know. But mafia men are already ticking bombs on a normal day. Add the mess he’s in right now, and who the hell knows.”
“What happened?” I ask.
Emily pauses, as if weighing her words carefully. “You know about his father, right?” she finally says.
I nod. “I know. Maxim… you know, he hurt him and wants to make him suffer.”
The tension in her face visibly melts, and she continues more easily, “Carlo kept telling him that man was like a wounded wolf, dangerous, and that he needed to finish him off quickly. But Maxim stalled so long the wolf healed and escaped.”
My eyes go wide. “Maxim’s father escaped?”
“Yeah. Maxim lost track of the guard he’d put on him for a few days. He sent someone else to check, and they found the guard with his throat slit. No sign of Leonardo.”
Fear floods through me. “Do you think Aurora and I are in danger?”
“I doubt it, sweetheart,” she says. “Leonardo’s been locked up for fifteen years, cut off from all his ties to the Bruni family.
He doesn’t even know you two exist. There’s no way he could infiltrate Carlo’s organization to get to you.
And besides, Maxim will hunt him down. Carlo and Maxim have the reach, the power, and the money Leonardo doesn’t.
Trust me, he doesn’t stand a chance against us. ”
Emily’s warm, reassuring tone calms my racing heart, and I manage a small smile. All day, I’m sick with dread over facing Maxim. Sure, he’s just as guilty as I am, but the stupidity of what I did keeps me from feeling too righteous.
Finally, when the wedding begins, I see him.
He’s dressed in a sharp suit, cutting through the crowd that’s staring at us like we’re some kind of spectacle.
His face gives nothing away, no emotion, no hint of what’s brewing inside.
When he reaches me, he leans down and kisses me, slow and deliberate, with a tenderness that feels almost too careful.
But the fingers digging into my flesh, tighter than usual, tell me he’s far from calm.