Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Misery Enjoys Company
Raf
“Double scotch. Neat.”
“Like that, is it?” asks my brother Seb, appearing by my side at the bar, signaling to the bar staff to make it two.
“Aren’t you on the clock?”
“I own the club; I make my own rules,” he says with his signature grin. “Besides, I hear misery enjoys company. And you, brother, look like one miserable fucker right now. Wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“You too, huh? I thought Luca was the one who considered himself the regular comedian. Think I might just head home like I intended before you dickheads convinced me to come for one drink.”
“Clearly my assumption is right. Spill, big brother,” he says as the bartender slides each of us our drinks.
“Same shit. Up to my eyeballs in work as well as teaching Sophia the ropes the last few weeks, which is time consuming, even though she’s doing really well.
Then Dad hits me up tonight trying to drag me into some terrible matchmaking scheme he has going on for Sophia and Arty Bartholomew Jones, while simultaneously asking when I intend on producing grandchildren for him. ”
Seb snorts into his scotch. “That’s what you get for being the lauded heir apparent to Princi Law instead, I give her a bored roll of my eyes and make the introductions.
“Seb, this is Chiara Gigioliotti, one of Marco’s clients. He’s her driver while she’s in town,” I explain with a raised eyebrow. “Chiara, this is my brother, Sebastian, and Bella Donna is his club.”
His lips quirk like they want to ask more questions, but I widen my eyes at him and he flashes his dazzling smile at her instead.
“Lovely to meet you, Chiara. What can I get you to drink?”
“So you must be the charming brother with the good looks and the good manners,” she says with a sweet laugh and big smile. “I’d love a Martini. Extra dirty,” she says with a flirty wink.
“Yes, ma’am. Coming right up.” Seb mock salutes her as he calls the bartender over.
She might be responding to Seb, but her answers are for my benefit too.
She’s comparing my prickly personality to his easygoing one, and the truth is, I’d choose his company over mine any day.
Yet the pang of jealousy I felt at her flirting with Seb is a revelation I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with.
“Well, you kids have a good time. I’m out of here.” I stand abruptly and make to leave. I need to get away from her. She brings out this side of me that I can’t control.
“What, does the nursing home have a curfew?” she claps back, glaring up at me from under thick, long lashes.
I can’t help but notice how she looks like anything but a kid perched on the bar stool, one leg crossed over the other, her dress riding up so high it just covers her underwear.
I wonder if she’s wearing any, or if she uncrossed her legs and slowly opened them, I’d get a view of her pretty pussy, I think. Fuck! I need to leave.
“Nailed it,” I grunt. As I turn to walk away, she tosses out her final barb.
“And to think when I first saw you I thought, I’d nail that. Picked you for a total stud muffin, but perhaps you’re just a dud nothing.”
I scoff audibly, looking back over my shoulder at her, but she makes a show of ignoring me.
Instead, she lifts the martini to her dangerous red lips and delicately sips before projecting her voice, lilting with her native Italian accent.
“Anyway, what about you, Sebby baby,” she coos. “Are you single and ready to mingle?”