Chapter 25 Chelsea
Chelsea
“KEEP DRIVING, MISS Daisy!” I scream at top volume, even though my best friend is sitting mere inches away from me behind the wheel of her car.
With a jolt, Daisy guns it, whizzing straight past our destination—the cliffside Malibu mansion owned by none other than the Prince of Darkness himself.
“You’re insane,” Daisy mutters. “You almost burst my eardrum, Chelsea.”
“Sorry, I spotted two valet parkers at the top of the driveway, and I freaked out.”
“You have a valet parker phobia?”
I laugh. “When we’re trying to leave the party later, I don’t want to get trapped in conversation on Satan’s doorstep with God knows who. Valet parkers can take forever to fetch a car sometimes.”
“You need serious psychiatric help.”
“I know.”
“I’m wearing high heels. Valet parking would have been nice.”
“I’ll give you a piggyback ride anywhere you want to go.”
Daisy flashes me a look. That’s not going to be possible; she’s a full head taller than me.
After a moment, she takes the first right turn onto a random, quiet street and parks her car in the summer sunshine in front of yet another massive, multilevel home—this one with multiple decks and balconies positioned to take in the stunning ocean view.
When her car’s engine is turned off, Daisy flips down her sun visor and checks her makeup in the mirror.
“I know it’s normal for you to be around hot NFL players all the time, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to become a WAG.
Or at least, to experience my own personal ‘why choose?’ porno.
So, pull yourself together and be my wing-woman today, or God help me, I’ll make you sleep on my bedroom floor tonight. ”
“I’ll do my very best.”
“They’re not serial killers, Chelsea. Okay, so Roman won some football games against your father and brother’s team over a decade ago.
Big whoop. When I went to that Illinois game with you during our freshman year, I fucked that cute Fighting Illini afterward, remember?
Even though they’d kicked our asses only two hours before.
If I can put football rivalries aside in favor of world peace, so can you. ”
I giggle with her. “There’s no comparing Northwestern’s friendly rivalry with Illinois to the epic battle between good and evil that divides Luca’s family and mine. It’s the difference between angels and demons. Right and wrong. And that’s before you add in my family members’ personal involvement.”
Daisy rolls her eyes. “Okay, well, while you’re fixating on imaginary forces of good and evil, I’m going to enjoy every second of this party, so don’t you dare ruin it for me by being a pouty, frowny, intense little twat.”
I crack up. Daisy’s called me all manner of horrible things whenever I’ve been too intense or bossy for her liking.
But never once has she called me a twat.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” I don’t think I’m lying to her.
True, I was raised to hate the Wolverines with every fiber of my being—but like every good Midwestern girl, I was also raised to be an extremely polite party guest. Considering how fleetingly I’m planning to stay at this shindig from hell today, I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to keep my pouty, frowny, intense, and otherwise “twatty” impulses hidden throughout.
“You made it!” Luca booms brightly after opening the door to Daisy and me on Roman’s doorstep. And just like that, at my first glimpse of Luca’s gorgeous, wide smile and sparkling brown eyes, my mouth can’t even remember how to pout or frown.
We step inside Roman’s massive living room—and instantly, my smile turns into a grimace when I spot a framed Wolverines jersey hanging over a distant fireplace. But when Luca wraps me in an enthusiastic hug, I forget to scowl, once again, the second his strong arms and yummy aftershave envelop me.
As I melt into Luca’s embrace, memories and sensations from last night’s supposedly one-time, delectable, and very naughty tryst slam into me.
Good lord, I’ve never had sex that scorching in my life.
It was so damned delicious, I dreamed about it last night and woke up soaking wet and still pulsing between my legs with the aftershock of an orgasm.
“Sorry we’re so late,” I choke out. But it’s a brazen lie.
I’ve come late by design. If Luca’s theory about the true reason for this gathering is accurate, then I wanted Roman’s new girlfriend to have a chance to settle in and meet everyone before my possibly distracting arrival.
Plus, and even more importantly, I wanted to give Luca the chance to catch up with his family and friends before worrying about me bursting into flames after stepping foot inside his brother’s lair.
“I’m just glad you made it,” Luca replies enthusiastically.
“I was beginning to worry.” He looks around before leaning in and whispering, “You missed some fireworks. Remember my hunch about why my brother wanted to throw this party in such a rush?” Luca briefly looks around.
“If a bunch of us hadn’t staged an intervention with my brother earlier, he would have given his new girlfriend the world’s least thought-through proposal in the history of time at this party. ”
I gasp. “No. Seriously?”
He nods and rolls his eyes. “I swear to God, Roman’s lost his mind over this woman. And rightly so. She’s awesome. Can’t wait to introduce you.” He grins broadly before addressing Daisy and me as duo. “How about we get you two some drinks and snacks, and then I’ll introduce you around.”
Oh, God. This is a disaster. Worst-case scenario.
I’ve now chatted, if only briefly, with pretty much everyone in Luca’s inner circle other than our host, who’s still making the rounds, and every single person thus far has been nothing but welcoming, warm, and lovely.
Even with that horrendous framed Wolverines jersey hanging on that far wall, I’ve felt increasingly relaxed and right at home as I’ve chatted with these wonderful people.
They’re so fun and funny, they remind me of my own family and loved ones; so much so, it’s kind of freaking me out.
Luca’s mother, Ava, for example, is my mother’s doppelganger.
Not physically, but in terms of their personalities: Both women are a similar and striking blend of warmth, kindness, and steel.
Even Luca’s supposedly evil twin, Levi, has turned out to be an absolute doll.
Evil Levi is more laid back and taciturn than his ebullient twin.
But who on this planet isn’t more subdued than Luca “Mr. Personality” Maguire?
Even so, Levi’s definitely charming in his own right—enough to make it obvious the two men share a whole lot of DNA.
I’m now deeply worried about meeting our host. If it turns out he’s anything like his family members, it’s distinctly possible I might reflexively say or do something I could get blackmailed over if anyone from my world were to find out about it.
Like, God forbid, I might involuntarily laugh at one of Roman’s jokes or maybe even compliment him. Shudder.
At present, I’m having a lovely time chatting with Roman’s adorable girlfriend, Iris, and her two best friends from college, Kaylee and Tatiana, along with Daisy and Luca. And as with every conversation so far, I’m feeling like I’m among my people. Like I can be myself. Fuck my life.
“What have I missed?” a deep voice rumbles behind me.
Shit. I know that voice. But even if I didn’t, Daisy’s wide eyes and hanging jaw would confirm it: The voice belongs to Roman Maguire. In fact, he’s now scootching in between Iris and me and offering his hand to me with a dazzling smile on his perfectly chiseled face.
“Welcome, Chelsea. It’s great to finally meet the woman who loathes me in person.”
I blush. “Hi, Roman.” I shake his hand politely, as my body is wired to do in situations such as this.
“What, no ‘fuck you’ this time?” he teases.
“I-I’m an invited guest in your home. Also, I promised my best friend I’d be on my best behavior.”
Roman clicks his tongue. “That’s too bad. I rather enjoyed your searing hatred.”
I blush deeper. “This is my best friend, by the way. Daisy.”
“Hi,” Daisy squeaks out as she reaches for Roman’s extended hand. It’s all she can manage, apparently; she’s visibly tongue-tied.
While everyone chuckles at Daisy’s obvious glee, Roman thanks her for coming.
When he releases her hand, I’m thinking Roman will quickly find a reason to leave our group so he can continue mingling with his other guests now—the people he’s close with and excited to see.
But nope, his dark, warm eyes unexpectedly return to me.
“How’s your dad enjoying his first NFL gig?”
There’s no snark in Roman’s tone. No hint of arrogance about the way he asked the question. No sense he’s lying in wait to mention his humiliation of my father and his players, including my brother Lincoln.
“Um, he’s loving the new gig so far. He’s working hard, though. Crazy hours.”
“It’s the nature of the beast. He’s taking on quite a challenge over there. But if anyone’s up to the task, it’s Jack Parker.”
What in the world? The hits just keep on coming.
Where’s the man’s competitive, gloating spirit?
Once again, I’m reminded of what Luca said to me once: Winners don’t hold grudges the way losers do.
Coming here, I mentally prepared to remind Roman about Archie Griffin, if necessary, the long-ago Buckeye who’s the only player in history to win the Heisman twice.
I figured I’d have that factoid at the ready if Roman razzed me too hard about my Buckeye DNA.
But just this fast, I know I’d have to be a total dickhead to bring that up.
Some people scatter and wander away, and our group becomes a foursome comprised of Luca, Roman, Iris, and me.