Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Bad Bets And Tattoo Debts
Raf
I’m bent at the waist on the verge of puking, while Beavis and Butthead, formerly known as my brothers, hop around the ring whooping like teenagers.
I lost all three rounds—two to Seb and one to Luca.
I even had a rest in between while Luca and Seb fought it out in their own best of three—the wager being who would be Marco’s best man after he told us today that he plans to make Sophia his wife as soon as he’s fully recovered.
We all know the only man for the job is Seb, but Luca needed the challenge and to let out the frustration over his own fucked-up love life.
The worst thing about the loss wasn’t so much that I was challenged physically; it was more that my mind was completely elsewhere.
Or, more specifically, on a tiny woman wearing a bear coat and sporting my marks on her neck.
Chiara made a point of being on her phone the entire trip back to Arabella’s where she asked to be dropped off so she could finish packing and organize for her things to be couriered over to my place.
When she did speak, it was only to answer my question—no banter, no innuendo, no teasing.
It felt foreign, yet that’s exactly what I once thought I wanted from her. How quickly the fucked fall.
I offered to have my driver go back and pick her up, but she said she had already messaged Avery and had some other errands to run.
I gave her the access codes to my door just in case she got home before me to wait for the couriers.
Then she got out of the car and the emptiness felt heavy.
I’ve traveled in the back seat of that car mostly alone for the best part of my single life, but once she was gone, an odd feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
Like when you say goodbye to someone at the airport, and for a fleeting moment you consider that it could be the last time you see them.
It’s quite clear that she and Avery have an unspoken bond.
She trusts him in a way I’m not sure she trusts many, which is precisely his job requirement.
Does it make my skin prickle with unchecked jealousy?
Yes. Is that completely, utterly irrational?
Also yes, but as I’m coming to understand, whenever Chiara is around, she takes a match to everything I ever believed to be true and torches it.
How can I experience a connection so unparalleled yet declare we can’t be anything, then be maddened to the point of violence at the notion of her finding solace and maybe more in the arms of someone else?
Quite easily apparently, because just the thought of her on her knees for anyone but me was the slippery slope that led to me being taken out at the knees by a right hook to my jaw and a left uppercut to my ribs.
I lift my head from where I’m still bent over and look at them.
“You both need to find a new hobby if details about my sex life elicit this sort of excitement. I hear porn helps.”
“Every freshly fucked grump needs a hype crew,” quips Luca. “Besides, at this point, as sad as it is to admit, we’re living vicariously through you.”
“Speak for yourself,” says Seb.
“What? Did you and Evie finally go from friends to lovers?” Luca says. “I love that trope by the way.”
“No comment,” Seb smirks coyly.
“He’s holding out on us,” I state to Luca, hoping he’ll take the bait and run with it so this entire conversation goes down a completely different rabbit hole.
“Good try, Raf. That’s a pro-lawyer move there. Setting a trap for someone else to deflect the attention away from the real matter at hand,” says Luca.
“Wow. Dad would be proud. Nice intercept of the deflection strategy,” muses Seb before he leans down and gets in my face. “A bet is a bet, Raf, and a Princi never backs out of a bet. I have the scars to prove it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with the obvious. Did you fuck her?”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m capping this to five questions, so you just wasted your first one on a known fact,” I say.
He just shrugs. “I’ll wear that because I want to hear you say it with your own mouth.”
“Yes, I…” I hesitate, because it feels almost wrong to just stick a I fucked that label on her—on this—when it was so much more. “Yes, I had sex with Chiara.”
“How many times and where?” chimes in Luca.
“Really? Why is this level of detail necessary?’
“For the calculations,” he states.
“What calculations? You know what, never mind. The quicker we get this done, the sooner I can go home.”
“Admit it. How you really wanted to finish that sentence was with, The sooner I can go home to Chiara,” Luca says, too perceptive for my liking. So I give him something salacious to distract him from exposing any more of my inner thoughts.
“Twice. In my bed and in the shower.”
“Hmm, first woman in your bed since she-who-shall-not-be-named,” Seb is quick to add. “That’s not a question. Just a very telling insight—for the calculations.”
“Ahhhhhh,” groans Luca “I love shower sex.”
“Please stop with the running commentary, Luca. I don’t need this level of detail about your sex life.”
“Or lack thereof,” says Seb.
“Shut up, or I’ll tell Marco you wagered being his best man.”
“I always knew I was going to win. You might be a champion on the track, but you’re a pup in the ring.”
“So cocky.”
“That’s what she said,” winks Seb.
“Oh God. I’m done. You’re like a couple of dogs in heat,” I say, straightening and walking over to get my drink bottle.
“Well we can’t all be getting laid,” snaps Luca.
“Wait, you’re mad at me for doing the very thing you all told me I needed to do?”
“Who initiated?” cuts in Seb, thankfully.
“Chiara. As you know, she doesn’t back down from a fight easily. This is the last question.”
“No! That’s only four!” Luca exclaims.
“Nope. Seb asked two questions before, how many times and where. This is the last one.”
I pull off my T-shirt and reach into my bag for a dry one.
“Whoa. Nice scratches,” Luca taunts. “They go beautifully with your hickey.”
“I’m out,” I say, dressing then throwing my bag over my shoulder.
Before I can turn to walk out, Seb places his warm hand on my shoulder. I meet his gaze. “How does she make you feel?” murmurs Seb, sincerity shining in his eyes. For once, I find myself opening up, almost relieved to let my guard down.
“Like I want to run into the fire and burn in it when I know that I should run as far away as possible.”
“Quite the predicament when you’ve just offered to be roomies with an arsonist.” Seb chuckles.
I simply hum, but that other vital organ that was so close to becoming permanently defunct from underuse is now wreaking havoc in my chest with each beat.
“So by my calculations,” says Luca, tapping his finger into his palm like he’s keying numbers into a calculator, “you’re completely, totally, and royally fucked, and well on your way to falling hard and fast.”
“And you’re completely, totally, and royally fucked from watching too much Dr. Phil,” I say with my back to him as I walk out the door, mostly so he can’t see the truth written all over my face.
“Marco is going to have the time of his life designing a tattoo for you,” calls out Seb, and Luca laughs along with him.
I simply flip them both the bird. I’m too much of a coward to admit out loud that where apprehension and anxiety should be about going home to find my place of solitude filled by a bratty woman with a brazen attitude, there’s only anticipation at the thought of walking through the door to someone instead of silence.
It’s both sobering and scary as hell, because I need to stick to the plan of not crossing the line again—unless it’s for show in the name of saving her from her arranged marriage.
Fuck. My list of clauses and amendments to the rules I set are starting to get out of hand.
Clearly, the mystery disease I’ve self-diagnosed has escalated, and the closer she and I become, the further out of reach my cure.
Maybe a tattoo won’t look so bad anyway. They look badass on her.
Then I do what any good person in denial does.
I get in my town car, tell my driver to take me to my favorite place for a slice, grab dinner to go, and head to the office to bury myself in paperwork.
No time like the present to set up the case file and notes in preparation for Arty’s trial.
Once an Assistant District Attorney is assigned to the case, Sophia and I will need to work closely with them on coordinating victim testimonies and finalizing a legal strategy.
Better the devil I know than the one waiting to tempt me at every turn.
On the way, I text Avery.
Just checking my house guest is all settled.
Avery:
She’s safe and sound. I confirmed the authenticity of the courier company. They checked out. I took the bags from them and inside myself.
To the guest room?
Avery:
I believe so. Can’t say I’ve been a guest or otherwise in your home, but Chiara seemed to know her way around, so I let her take charge.
Brave man.
Avery:
She also insisted that you told her I was her personal bodyguard and would always be close by.
I did say it in passing but hadn’t had a chance to update with Vault Enterprise yet.
Avery:
No problem. I’ll make the change on the system and add an additional resource to this assignment.
Please charge it back to me.
Avery:
Noted.
Avery:
I also want to make you aware that Chiara insisted the new arrangement started effective immediately, so I’m currently in your home watching reruns of SATC. Not by choice, but by client’s request that she felt safer in her room if I was with her.
Not that I doubt your professionalism, but she’s off-limits for obvious reasons.
Avery:
Noted. The obvious reason being she prefers assholes. I’ll vacate the premises and move back to the car shortly. Also confirming the next part of the plan is in motion too.
Duly noted. Thank you.
Not for the first or last time, I consider how truly fucked I am.