Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Who Hurt You?
Chiara
“Did you just take a picture of us?” Raf snaps, glowering at me from the doorway.
“Technically just you. No hard feelings, Marco.”
Marco raises both hands. “None taken.”
“Why would you take my photo without my consent?” he fumes, like he’s trying to get me shaking in my boots. All it does is make me want to poke the big bad wolf even more. So I do.
“Capturing you in your element. All that Big Dick Lawyer Energy is too good not to immortalize. Think of it as your new headshot.”
Marco and Sophia both try hard to stifle their laughs, while brooding Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome filling the doorway scowls, his mood growing blacker by the second.
I fucking love it. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about this man that makes me want to chip away at the stern facade he’s bolted on.
Just hearing the low echo of his commanding voice through Marco’s wireless earbuds earlier sent a thrill through me.
Even without knowing how goddamn attractive he is, I felt this energetic pull to him.
It’s the first time in a long time I’ve had such a visceral reaction to a man.
I promised myself after Alessandro that I would never let anyone get close enough to me to burn me ever again.
One and done hookups. Except with the way my skin prickles and my stomach swoops, I already know I would buckle for this man. One command and I’d be on my knees.
“I’m so glad you find this shit show amusing,” Raf says through gritted teeth before storming back down the hall.
Clearly, my presence has had the very opposite effect on him, not that it deters me in the slightest. I’m nothing if not persistent.
“Don’t worry!” I call out to his retreating form. “I’ll send you a signed copy so you can frame it and put it on your desk.”
Marco and Sophia are now openly laughing.
And I breathe a silent sigh of relief. For a second there, I was pretty sure the stunning Sophia Princi thought I was gunning for her man, hence why she activated bitch mode.
I’m pretty sure my little performance just now—which was as much to ruffle her older brother’s feathers as it was to prove to her I have no romantic interest in Marco—means she’s reconsidered her first impression of me.
She did give me her number and promised that we’d catch up before the Natalia Hirsch Photo Exhibition in a few weeks, so I’m chalking that up to making my first friend in New York.
“Thanks for the coffee,” I say, gathering my things. “I’m sensing you two might need a minute, so I’ll meet you by the elevator, Marco.”
I exit her room and make my way down the hallway in the same direction Raf went just moments earlier.
The floor is quiet, so from what I can tell, only Raf and Sophia are working today.
I walk towards the office at the end of the hall, the sight of the stunning Manhattan skyline beckoning me.
Checking the coast is clear, I slip inside, snapping some shots of the incredible view.
I wonder whose office this is. I didn’t quite see where Raf went, and considering he’s not in here now, it must be the big, big boss’s.
I turn to leave and walk straight into a hard wall of muscle.
“Shit! What the hell are you doing in here?”
I slowly tip my head back to look up at the person scolding me like a small child.
I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Raf, but when presented with the opportunity to get a close-up view of his chiseled jaw and full, kissable lips, I’m going to take it.
Even with my high-heeled boots, I only reach his chest. If I had to guess, Raf’s probably over six feet to my five-foot-nothing.
It’s only when my gaze reaches higher that I notice he’s holding an espresso cup in his hand, and the impact of our collision has splashed coffee over his tie.
“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” I gasp. “I didn’t mean to ruin your tie. I promise I’ll replace it.” I spy an LV embroidered into the fabric and make a note to go straight to Louis Vuitton to find a replacement.
“I know everything seems like a joke to you, but you can’t be in here unattended,” he grits out, nostrils flaring as he reaches past me to grab a tissue to blot his tie.
Realizing it’s futile, he loosens it and whips it off altogether.
I mean really, who wears a tie and suit to work when he’s technically still on vacation.
He could have worn damn sweatpants and no one would have been the wiser.
Mmmm, just the thought of this man in gray sweatpants causes my lips to pull up into a smirk.
Stepping around me to take his spot behind his desk, he adds, “I’m glad you think this is funny. But I mean it. You can’t be in here. Leave, Chiara.”
His dark eyes zero in on my face, and I see the glint of fury in them.
Heat curls its way around my spine and spreads through me slowly as I stand there deciding how to respond.
I won’t lie—his harsh tone stings a little, but there’s something telling in the intensity of his reaction and the way my name drips off his tongue.
I’m unnerving him in way that’s causing cracks to appear in the tough exterior he’s clearly spent a lot of time building.
I’m no stranger to constructing walls to protect myself, to repel others from trying to get close or seeing my pain.
I have a feeling it’s something Raf and I have in common.
I know I should just turn around and leave wordlessly. I have already disrupted the hornet’s nest enough.
Except I can’t.
This irrational pull to get under his skin is fierce and unrelenting. Instead, I cock my head and look at him pensively. He glares back at me. He might be the all-powerful lawyer, but right now I’m the one asking the hard-hitting questions.
“Raf, who hurt you?”
His expression remains stern, but the flicker in his eyes tells me all I need to know.
Bullseye.