Chapter 7 Lorenzo
S taring at the big chandelier hanging from Vortex’s ceiling, I’m lost in thought—only one thought, the one with a pair of deep ocean-blue eyes and a smart mouth.
“Earth to Enzo,” Matteo calls out to me, snapping his fingers in front of my face.
“You sure are a persistent little fucker,” I murmur.
“Funny.” He laughs. “You didn’t find me persistent when you had me look into Red’s best friend. What do you want with her anyway?”
I shrug. “Call it curiosity.”
Or that I’m trying my best to find everything I possibly can about her for some forsaken reason.
You know damn well why.
The itch to get another fix is the unfortunate reason. I seem to have a particular love for struggling. The last thing Sophia wants to do is give me the time of day, and somehow, that makes me want to get it even more.
A sharp, bitter laugh erupts out of me at the thought. I sound like a damn toddler. Isn’t that sad ?
He snorts at my comment. “Spill the beans, Enzo.”
I lift my arm, calling Ivy to take our order. She has been working at Vortex as a bartender for a few years now. It took a lot for the board to agree to hire her. With Vortex being one of the most exclusive billionaire clubs, the board is picky in every aspect, including in who they employ. One day, she arrived at my apartment with a simple bag of clothes. She didn’t want me asking any questions, and I didn’t, out of respect. I hooked her up with a job and a place to crash for a few months. She’s been my best friend since I moved to Chicago when I was barely eighteen, and this is how our friendship has always been. We know each other’s darkest secrets, but we don’t ask questions. We talk about it when we’re ready. And Ivy’s story, it’s not mine to tell.
Ivy looks our way and nods, already knowing our usual order. Matteo likes his rum and Coke, since he’s a little bitch who hates drinking whiskey. How I’m best friends with this guy is beyond me, because we couldn’t be any more different. I, on the other hand, love a good whiskey neat. Simple. Manly —like my father used to say. Whatever the fuck that means. It does the job I need it to do, so nothing else matters.
A humorless laugh threatens to escape me as I realize I’ve turned out just like my father, using alcohol to numb the clusterfuck that is my life. What a fucking disappointment.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” Matteo pressures.
I close my eyes, sagging my shoulders in defeat. “I’ll need something to drink first if I’m going to confess this to you.”
He lets out a low, long whistle. “Oh shit, this better be good.”
Ivy approaches us, a smile lighting up her face. “Hello, boys.” When she places the drinks in front of us, she frowns at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Thanks, Ivy. And that’s what I’m trying to find out. Our boy over here has been cryptic,” Matteo says, taking a sip and then looking my way, pushing my shoulder playfully with a fist. “Are you ready to confess whatever has you looking like a miserable idiot?”
I grab the whiskey glass and swirl it twice before drinking it in one gulp. The burn goes down my throat, slowly finding its way to the pit of my stomach. There’s nothing better than the kick of a good old whiskey.
“You guys remember the girl I fucked on my birthday last year?”
He ponders, then nods animatedly when he remembers. “Yeah, you said she rocked your world, best night ever.”
“The one who gave you a 7 out of 10? How could I forget?” Ivy laughs, grabbing a cleaning towel and drying some wine glasses before placing them where they belong. “I’ve never met her, but I love the woman already. Someone needs to put you in your place from time to time, Enzo.”
I snort at the reminder. I still can’t believe she looked me straight in the eyes and said, “ Yeah, solid 7 out of 10, but no thanks.” Then shamelessly dared to repeat it the other day. I’ve never been rejected like that. The one time I was considering getting a girl’s number, she rejected me instead. The irony is most definitely not lost on me.
I thread my fingers through my hair, releasing a frustrated sigh. “That girl has a name, and it’s Sophia fucking Evans.”
Matteo is midway through his rum and Coke when his eyes bulge in surprise. He spits out the drink, bursting into laughter. I glare at him as his shoulders shake with mirth and he wipes away tears with his napkin .
“The girl from your birthday dinner? Aria’s best friend?” Ivy gapes at me. “No wonder you couldn’t take your eyes off her,” she squeaks.
“Please, let me be there when you tell Red,” Matteo begs, hands clasped together like an idiot. “She’s going to rip you a new one.”
Ivy tilts her head, contemplating. “I don’t know Aria well. But I do know Damian, and he’s the one that’s going to rip you a new one.”
“I’m glad my misery is bringing you joy,” I snap at Matteo, shaking my head with a scowl.
“Ivy, get back to work,” Elisa, her manager—and a pain in the ass at that—scolds her. “What have I told you about fraternizing with the gentlemen?”
“It’s fine, Elisa,” I drawl. I honestly dislike her. If it were up to me, I would fire her. But it’s not only my decision. The whole board has to agree.
“Mr. Mancini, with all due respect, it’s clearly stated in the employee rulebook that this isn’t allowed.”
“And as the vice president of this damn club, I’m telling you it’s fine,” I snap. “Now, go about your business.” I make a shooing motion with my hands.
Elisa, the smart woman she is, thins her lips and walks away without saying another word. I’m honestly surprised she was bold enough to say something in the first place. Not every employee here has the guts to talk to me like that.
Ivy looks around the room. “It’s getting kind of busy, so I’ll leave you two to it. I want updates, though!” she exclaims, serving me another drink before walking away.
Once she leaves, I look at Matteo. “Here’s the thing, she pretended not to know me. Granted, I started the whole thing, because I wasn’t sure how she was going to react, but she continued to act normal the rest of the night. ”
“Where was I during all of this? I cannot believe I missed this.”
“You’d already left for that work emergency.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Can we get back to the point here?”
Matteo bites his lip, trying to hold back his shit-eating grin. “Well, she did give you a 7 out of 10. That’s a C minus. You’re losing your game, lover boy.”
“I’m not here for a lesson, genius.” I hit the back of his head. “And me? Losing my game? Please ,” I scoff. I’m honestly a little offended he said that.
He raises his hands in defeat. “Hey, don’t be mad at me. Be mad at yourself. Maybe you were having an off night.”
Shaking my head, I grab the drink Ivy placed in front of me and take a sip. “I regret to inform you she does remember.” I sigh, running a hand down my face. “And she dared to remind me of my piss-poor rating,” I grumble under my breath.
Matteo’s blue eyes sparkle as he presses his lips together.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask in disbelief.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he says with a shit-eating grin. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
I just know those two are going to gang up on me and fuck with me every chance they get. Add Ivy to the mix and they’re going to have a merry fucking time.
“Are you going to tell Damian?” he asks, his tone serious now.
I give him an incredulous look. “Are you crazy? He’ll go straight to Red as soon as I tell him.”
“More like he’ll punch you and then go to Red,” he quips very matter-of-factly. “Ivy was right, Damian is going to lose his shit when he finds out. The girls are practically sisters, and you know how protective he gets of Aria. Our boy is pussy-whipped. ”
“Thanks for the great input.” I grunt. “And stop talking about Damian being pussy-whipped, when you wished you were pussy-whipped by a certain grump with blonde hair.”
That shuts him up. He rolls his eyes, choosing to drink instead. That’s what I thought.
I know Damian better than that, though. He’ll be disappointed, which somehow, makes it so much worse. Our relationship is not what it used to be. He acts more like a dad, and I feel like an overgrown teenager, disappointing the very little family I have left. But with how life has been lately, I can’t bring myself to care, even though it makes me feel like shit. No one notices I’m drowning, so they assume I’m self-destructing. There’s a huge difference between the two. But people will believe whatever they want.
I bang my head once against the bar. “I have to tell them.”
“Yup. Because from the looks of it, I don’t think Sophia will.”
A hum of excitement floods through me at the mention of her name. Yes, the whole situation is fucked, but a part of me lives off the high that we’re in close circles now. Her best friend is marrying my cousin. A cousin who is practically my brother. And now we’ll be working together—a fact I didn’t tell Matteo for a good reason. He likes to be the voice of reason sometimes, and I’m not looking for that right now. I’m all too aware of how risky this is.
If Sophia thinks she can avoid me forever, she’s dead wrong.