Chapter 7 #3
The boys erupt into laughter, and I hazard a sidelong glance at Raf, but his eyes are firmly trained on someone approaching our table.
I follow his line of sight until I’m looking straight at one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen.
Dark chocolate hair flicked to one side, tumbling over her shoulder.
Porcelain skin and warm brown eyes like cocoa.
Her long legs and slender body wearing the shit out of black leather trousers and a classic white shirt, buttons left undone to reveal a peek of her lacy black bra.
A simple J on a fine gold necklace sitting in the hollow of her neck.
“Hello, Juliette. Good to see you.”
The tone is velvety. A foreign sound that leaves the mouth of the impossibly hostile man I was just sparring with.
Every nerve ending in my body fires. Frustration, desire, fury. If he’d just let me in, I could show him how good I could be for him.
I’m so enamored by the sight of her and my racing thoughts that I almost miss it. The imperceptible nibble at her bottom lip and the way her eyes flare hungrily at the sound of his voice before connecting with his.
When the girls said they’d introduce me to the owner, Juliette, I didn’t picture the siren who’s appeared from the shadows.
I pictured an eccentric French woman. Not the long-limbed goddess in her early thirties who makes me feel like the ugly stepsister.
She warmly greets everyone like an old friend and introduces herself to me in the same way, her French accent dripping with sensuality and wrapping itself around me.
I want to hate her, but it’s hard to feel anything but charmed, especially when she tells me I’m welcome at her bar for signature cocktails with the girls any time.
They certainly didn’t mention anything about her and Raf having a thing, and looking around, it appears that I’m the only one who has caught on to their tells. Conversation continues around me. I study her as she takes drink orders.
“The usual?” she asks Raf, and he nods, his expression warm. One he clearly only reserves for her to bask in.
Before she can get to me, Seb jumps in. Turning to Evie first, he says, “Negroni rocket fuel for you, Pocket Rocket?”
“You know it!” she says.
He beams back at her affectionately, their ease with each other evident.
He directs his attention to me. “Martini. Extra dirty?” he asks with a cheeky smile and wink.
“Mmmhmm. Where’s the fun if it’s not extra dirty?”
“I like this one,” purrs Juliette with a smirk pulling on her lips. “I wholeheartedly agree.”
“Most people like me, with a few exceptions,” I say, flicking my eyes towards Raf.
“But that might have something to do with the fact that I spilled coffee on his expensive tie.” I grimace playfully.
“But don’t worry, I’ve brought him the perfect replacement.
Or his disdain could be because I bombarded him all day with messages about the size of...
” I inch my eyebrows upward and pause for effect.
And it’s received as intended, because both Seb and Juliette laugh loudly, the latter cocking her head slightly off to the side and staring at me for a beat longer, like she’s trying to figure something out.
“Get your mind out of the gutter! The size of the frame I should put the photo I took of him in.”
Raf stops mid-conversation with Marco and scowls hard at me.
He flicks a look between me and Seb and then Juliette.
His jaw clenches at my not-so-subtle digs.
Or perhaps he’s annoyed at my inside jokes with Seb and new-found camaraderie with his fuck buddy.
Everyone else may be none the wiser, but I know what I saw, and as someone who has been one half of a torrid affair, the neon sign shines bright.
Juliette and Raf were, have been, or still are fucking.
It tracks though, because as much as he seems intent on loving to hate me, Raf and I might be more alike than he’s comfortable admitting.
The urge to either blurt out my suspicions or stake my claim for a man who finds me nothing but absolutely infuriating is real, but before I can let this spiral lead me all the way to Kansas, a hand squeezes mine, putting a cork in the swirl of self-destruction that’s picked up speed in my belly like the beginning of a twister.
“All jokes and secret society business aside, tonight is a huge achievement for you. Are you excited for the exhibition?” Luca asks quietly.
“It’s a dream come true.” I tell him honestly. “I just hope my family doesn’t pull a Sopranos special and fuck it all up for me.”
“We’ve got your back,” he says with conviction. And when our drinks arrive promptly after, he raises his glass to mine and toasts. “To new beginnings. Fuck meddling families.”
Luca is the sweetest. He’s funny and warm, but also perceptive and thoughtful.
Not to mention totally and utterly in love with Arabella, if only she would allow herself to be doted on by him, instead of questioning if she’s worthy of his affections.
If only we could see ourselves the way others do, and not just our flaws.
I giggle and cheers him back, ignoring the heat of a stare I can feel boring into the side of my face from the big bad wolf sitting at the head of the table.
He can hate me all he wants, but these people here feel like the type of friends I always hoped to have.
I won’t let him ruin that for me. I won’t let another man break me, even if all I want is for Raf to want to ruin me.