Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Diversion Tactics
Raf
I should’ve just gone home like I threatened at Le Sip. That would have been the smartest thing to do. As if Juliette’s rejection wasn’t enough to make me want to shun any more socializing, things went from awkward to bad to worse at the photography exhibition. The one I called dumb.
The same one proudly displaying Chiara’s photography. If I’d known, I would have been even more adamant about not coming. Or more careful with my choice of words. My attempt to smooth over my carelessness with a compliment only earned me more vitriol and a death glare. Fuck.
I’d like to blame my loyalty to Marco for continuing the night at Bella Donna with the rest of the group for the afterparty, but I know it’s concern for how things might pan out for a certain pint-sized, dark-haired tornado who has already drunk her weight in Champagne and, if my count is right, is now on her third cocktail.
As his client, Chiara is really Marco’s problem, but I know his head is on other things right now. My sixth sense told me I needed to be here. It’s the voice I always trust, even if, for whatever reason, it keeps pushing me towards forbidden fruit.
Ensconced on the velvet couch in the VIP area with Marco by my side, we have a direct view of the bar and dance area.
He watches my sister like a hawk, and as her boyfriend, rightly so.
Unfortunately, I can’t help but mimic his actions, without any reason to do so.
Chiara means nothing to me, but she grates on my every thought like the feeling of a sock slipping in your shoe.
I shouldn’t be worrying about her, let alone allowing her to have this amount of pull on me.
I squeeze my hand tighter around the scotch glass as I watch her roll her body in time to the music.
Her back is to her dance partner’s front, but her eyes are zeroed in on me.
She lifts her hands above her head and closes her eyes, robbing me of her attention.
She bumps and grinds, losing herself in the music.
It’s then I realize the man she’s with is my brother Luca’s teammate, Hudson.
I’ll be having words with Luca about the company he keeps, and how his friend needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.
As if I dared him to piss me off, Hudson drags his hands down the side of her body, letting them come to a rest at the curve of her small waist. So small they almost totally encircle it.
For a millisecond, I imagine how my hands would look wrapped around her.
I take another sip, hoping the burn of the scotch will erase these invasive thoughts that continue to roll through me like thunder.
My jaw tenses. Perceptive as ever, Marco doesn’t miss a beat, and I can feel his bemusement before I hear it in his voice.
“Brother, if I didn’t know better, I would think you’re jealous,” he goads.
There’s a reason he’s won the favor and respect of powerful people and families as a partner at Vault Enterprise. But I’m a damn good lawyer. So I consider my refuting argument to be sound and factual.
“Fuck off, man. She’s immature and the definition of trouble with at capital T.” I scoff. “But I also don’t need to become collateral damage when her Mafia cousin comes for that poor fucker’s puppy dog eyes.”
Except then said fucker with the puppy dog eyes pulls Chiara hard up against him, grinding against her, not an inch of space between them.
Her eyes snap open in shock, and I can tell what he must be pressing into her by the rise and fall of her ample cleavage.
Her green eyes burn bright, beaming into mine across the moodily lit space.
Beckoning me. Goading me. A fuck you and this could’ve been you all rolled into one.
I remain stone-faced; I’m too old for this shit.
Yet my nerves fray at my watertight argument with every passing second.
When she rolls her bottom lip between her teeth.
When he pushes her hair off her shoulder so he can whisper into her ear.
When she gives him her bright smile, like he’s the summer to her sunshine.
When he spins her into him, so now she’s looking at him like he hung the moon, his hands resting on her ass, fingers edging towards the hemline of her short dress.
Taunting me. Then she’s on her tippy toes, whispering something into his ear, faces inching closer.
The hem of her dress impossibly close to revealing the curve of her round, tight ass.
Then the thunder in me claps. I knock back the rest of my scotch, and with Marco’s deep chuckle echoing in my ear, I’m striding towards the bar in search of another.
Before I can pull myself back from the brink of insanity, I’m stepping between them, breaking up this little almost-public fuck fest. Me being her intended captive audience.
The Little Devil arches an eyebrow at me. And now with her in my line of sight, I can see how glassy her eyes are and that she’s swaying even though I’ve interrupted her bump and grind session.
“I’m just trying to get to the bar,” I respond to her dirty look.
“Has your night vision failed you? You could have picked any other spot to order your drink.”
Hudson looks from me to her, then back again.
“But seeing as you’re going that way, would you be a sweetheart and get us another drink,” she says coyly, but very clearly over the edge of tipsy.
“Oh! Sorry, how rude of me,” she continues clapping her hands together gleefully.
“I haven’t made introductions. Hudson, sexy F1 driver, meet Big Bad Raf, otherwise known as Law Daddy. ”
I’ve met him once or twice before, so no introduction is necessary, but that doesn’t make us friends either. Hudson doesn’t bother correcting her or letting on we’re already acquainted. Instead, he bites his lip to stifle a laugh and holds out his hand to shake mine.
“Hey, Raf, good to see you again.”
I take his hand but don’t return the warm greeting. Instead, I nod to acknowledge him and squeeze hard, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.
“I think she’s had enough, don’t you?” I say through gritted teeth.
“Ahh come on, mate,” he says lazily, his Australian accent annoying me as much as the mischievous grin stretching across his face. “She’s having a good time. No harm, no foul.”
Out of my peripheral, I see Marco leading Sophia from the dance floor like a man on a mission, and in that instant, I want to cause him harm, because if he’s not here watching over his charge, who is?
Stepping up to me and grabbing the lapels of my jacket to pull me down to her level, Chiara brings our faces so close together her sweet breath fans over me as her glassy eyes bore into mine.
“You’re not the boss of me,” she hisses. “So let me have some fun and fuck who I want, when I want, and where I want, if I so wish.”
She hiccups and sways at the conclusion of her monologue, using the grip on my jacket for stability.
Her words needle me in a way that makes me feel alive and ready for a fight, and before I can stop myself, I wrap my hands around her delicate wrists and laugh mirthlessly in her face, taking in her rosy cheeks flushed both with the effects of alcohol and agitation, before putting my mouth to her ear and slowly delivering my closing argument.
“You’re right, I’m not the boss of you, because if I were, I’d put you over my knee and spank that ass so hard you’d wear my brand for days. Then, I’d fill this bratty little mouth full of my cock so you’d shut the fuck up and listen for once in your life.”
She gasps but keeps a hold on me. I pull back momentarily to take in the sight of her, lost for words, the glow of the club’s lights highlighting the spread of pink deepening on her cheeks. Leaning back in, I deliver my final blow.
“Hmmm. Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you. But by all means, go have some fun. Fuck who you want, where you want, when you want. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re used and discarded by a fucking playboy only after one thing.”
She drops her hands from my jacket like she’s touched a hot stove plate as Hudson steps in behind her and ushers her away.
I know I scalded her with my words, that they affected her just as much as they did me.
But she doesn’t even bother to look back.
I grind my molars as a sense of foreboding settles over me.
Almost as strong as the rush of jealousy that zips through me at the sight of his hands on her body.
Because the truth is, I would love nothing more than to be the boss of her, and that… well that thought terrifies me.
As I down the scotch, I now need to calm the raging waters, Juliette’s words from before ringing through my ears.
You deserve happiness, Raf. I just can’t fathom how she could think it lies with that pint-sized devil intent on incinerating every single wall I’ve erected and maybe a lot fucking more.