CHAPTER 64 - RED
CHAPTER
Red
GETTING OUT OF THE car outside Emiliano Galvatore’s headquarters, I don’t expect a rush of waiting press to surge, but they encroach on Arianna the second her foot connects with the pavement.
Bombarded with flashbulbs, I position myself in front of her to shield her from the intrusion.
“Miss Galvatore? How do you feel about taking over your father’s empire?”
“Isn’t it a lot for you to take on, Miss Galvatore?”
“Exactly what experience do you have in business, Miss Galvatore?”
Blinking against the blinding flashes, Arianna looks flustered and stressed. This is hard enough as it is for her without this bunch of parasites.
“Just ignore them,” I whisper. Taking her hand, I lead her through the throng of jostling journalists.
“Miss Galvatore? Will your father remain on hand to offer you guidance?”
“Why has he suddenly decided to retire?”
“How do the men working for the business feel about you taking over, Miss Galvatore?”
“Miss Galvatore? Your comments, please.”
The fuzzy end of a microphone shoves into Arianna’s face. It’s one of many, but this one narrowly misses hitting her in the mouth. Grabbing the end of it, I twist it from the journalist’s hand and throw it to the floor, my boot grinding it into the pavement.
“You nearly hit my wife in the face, you prick!” I growl, pushing myself into the reporter’s face. “And she’s not ‘Miss Galvatore’. She’s ‘Mrs Bateman’! Now get out of our way!”
The jostling and clamor immediately die down, leaving us to walk up the steps to the double doors unhindered. I’m about to pull the door open when Arianna turns to face the shocked collection of men.
“Gentlemen,” she announces, her voice loud and crisp. “I will provide a statement in due course, but not until I have addressed my workforce, so kindly be patient.”
Amid appreciative murmuring from the pool of reporters, she turns on her heels and strides confidently through the doors into what is now her new headquarters.
I show no hint of surprise at what Arianna’s just done. I wouldn’t give these tossers the satisfaction, but how she just handled that was a hell of a lot better than me. I must remember this woman is capable of holding her shit together.
I follow her into the lobby, my gaze fixed on her stockinged legs. They look as hot as fuck. And in that tailored skirt suit, she looks powerful. She is powerful.
As I catch up with her, Arianna turns to me. “I’m capable of speaking for myself, Red, therefore I’d appreciate it if you let me get on with it, rather than strengthening the perception that a woman cannot function alone.”
I bristle at her coldness, but she’s right. “I was only trying to help, but I’ll pull my head in from now on,” I mumble. “Unless things get out of hand.”
Those violet eyes move sideways to look at me as we walk purposefully towards what I presume is a function room. I take her arm. “If you get offended at me for dealing with things that get out of hand, then tough, because I’ll do it regardless. You’re my wife.”
Arianna opens her mouth to speak, but I lean down, my mouth against her ear. “Got to tell you, you’re hot as hell.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
Arianna’s frostiness breaks and she smiles. I’m glad about that because unless I’m mistaken, I think she’ll get a hard time in here and doesn’t need to be rowing with me before facing the onslaught. How she deals with these men dictates how things will move forward.
Or not.
I just hope she holds her own because it won’t be easy.