Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Family Drama
Chiara
It took me less than zero seconds to ascertain that there was no way on God’s green earth I would ever—and I mean ever—marry an ass-wipe like Julian Rizzo.
He makes designer look cheap, expensive cologne smell like toilet spray, and he puts a whole new meaning to pearly whites—as in, I would still be blinded by them if I were lost in outer space.
That’s not to say he’s not attractive, because he certainly is in that Italian stallion kinda way, but I only have one type when it comes to men with dark hair, tanned skin, and a strong physique—and that’s Raf Princi.
I’m two glasses of red down on a stomach containing only two sushi rolls riding a tidal wave of coffee.
I imagine two sushi rolls wearing sunglasses on surfboards and burst into giggles.
It’s at the most inopportune time, too, as Julian is swinging his dick about how much money he made from his last deal with the Irish.
“You’re a foxy one, aren’t you?” he says, turning his attention on me from where he sits across the table. “Hasn’t your cousin taught you that a good woman should be seen but never heard?”
I bark out an incredulous laugh. I knew this guy was an ass, but wow. The balls on this misogynistic pig. “He could try, but he knows I wouldn’t hesitate to cut off his dick, and what good is a man without his most valuable appendage?” I say, flashing him a saccharine smile.
“Chi. That’s enough,” commands AJ, but my blood is too hot, and I’m too loaded with liquid courage to quit now.
“Mouthy aren’t you, princess? We’re gonna have to fix that problem real quick when you’re my wife.”
“I can assure you that men have never had a problem with my mouth, my current boyfriend included.”
He laughs. “Oh, your fake hotshot lawyer boyfriend, you mean. You don’t belong in his prestigious world sweetheart; you’re a hot mess.
” He leans over and grabs my jaw, and I gasp at the force of his grip, which renders me speechless.
His touch is rough and ruthless, a sign of what it would be like to be his wife, and fear crawls all over me.
“But don’t worry; I’ll teach you to behave. ”
The scrape of Avery’s chair brings Xander and a few of AJ’s other men out of the shadows in a flash.
AJ grabs Julian’s wrist and twists it before slamming it down on the table.
“This is not a done deal by any stretch,” AJ says, voice dangerously low. “You don’t deserve her words, let alone anything else. Now, tell me what information you have about who shot Marco, or this fucking deal is dead in the water.”
“Time to go, Ms. Gigioliotti,” Avery says, holding his hand out for me to take.
I stand on leaden legs and sway. The third glass of wine has proved to be the tipping point, but Avery does his best to shield the evidence of my overindulgence from the fuckface of a man smiling menacingly in my direction.
“Ahhh, little AJ,” Julian says condescendingly, yanking his arm away without once taking his eyes off me.
“You know all the heads have already done the deal. The new trade areas have been established, so it’s not that simple.
Her sweet pussy is just the cream on the top offered by Gino to produce an elite heir with Rizzo and Gigioliotti blood.
This meeting has been good. Now that I know she’s a mouthy bitch, I’ll be sure to stuff all her holes at once. ”
There’s a loud crunch and a crack, followed by a blood-curdling scream. Julian is cursing as blood pours from his nose. He isn’t able to grab for his piece because Xander is now by my cousin’s side, wrapping Julian up.
“Get him the fuck out of here of here,” AJ commands lowly, before bracing his tense body on the table, head bowed.
Xander carries the thrashing man across the room to a wall that begins to lift and reveals the frigid night air, tossing him out unceremoniously.
“Come on, Chiara, let’s get you home,” says Avery, trying to guide me towards the door, but I’m rooted to the spot, my eyes trained on the trickle of blood running down AJ’s face and nose from the vicious head-butt he just delivered to Julian’s face.
Memories of Marco sprawled on the floor and my slain parents flash in and out of this current reality.
My heart thumps, the sound heavy in my ears as I feel the blood whoosh through me, leaving me woozy.
“Chiara, I will always fight for you. Always,” AJ says in a deathly quiet voice, lifting his head and boring his jade-green eyes into mine.
“I know it was shitty how you found out about the arranged marriage deal. I kept you in the dark to protect you. All I asked from you was to trust me. To follow my lead so we didn’t make things worse.
Well, congratu-fucking-lations. You’ve detonated a bomb,” he says, swiping at the blood that’s trickling down his face, smearing it across his cheekbone, making him look even more ominous.
“Just so you know, this is bad. Very fucking bad. You know why? Because now, the Rizzos are going to demand this marriage happen out of principle because Julian’s ego and pride are bruised and he needs to assert his power.
And this time, I have no idea if I’m going to be able to talk my father down from demanding it happen. ”
I watch another drop of blood trickle off the tip of his nose, falling and fanning out on the marble surface. Splat.
“I’m sorry, AJ. Truly. I might be a hot mess, but I would rather you kill me right now than have that man anywhere near me again.”
“You might not have a goddamn choice.” He waves his hand towards the door. “Go home. Eat something. And just wait until I can figure this shit out.”
This time, I let Avery usher me out; I’m in a trance-like state now.
Numb from the alcohol and the look of disappointment and worry etched all over my cousin’s bloodied face.
My stomach constricts with anxiety, and it feels like an absolute punch to the gut.
Another person to add to the list of people I’ve let down.
The car is waiting when we emerge.
“Let’s get you home,” Avery says, helping me up into the black Land Rover before getting into the other side.
I lean my head against the window and watch as the lights drag in a blur as we speed along.
My eyes feel heavy so I close them, and instantly Julian’s sneering face invades the black as his words replay on loop.
You don’t belong in his prestigious world, sweetheart; you’re a hot mess.
The sting of the truth is too much to bear.
I bite down on my lip, hoping the physical pain will help to take my mind off the deep ache in my chest. He’s not wrong.
I am a hot mess. How many times in the last few months have I found myself in this exact same way?
Drunk. Emotional. On the verge of a panic attack.
Regardless of our physical chemistry, Raf Princi is out of my league.
Intelligent. Sophisticated. Controlled. I bring nothing to his table—except a semi-trailer of baggage and problems.
“Avery,” I whisper into the silence.
“Yes, Chiara,” he answers in a way that makes me feel like I could tell him my deepest, darkest secret and he would take it to his grave.
“I think I’m broken in a way that can never be fixed.”
“Maybe you don’t need fixing. Maybe you just need to be loved by someone who really sees you.”
“Look at me, Avery. Who is going to love what they see—I’m a hot mess with a fuck-ton of trauma to boot.”
“One man’s hot mess is another man’s treasure.”
“Oh God, I’m rubbing off on you,” I mutter. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”
“Chiara, the man who gets to call you his one day is going to be one lucky son of a bitch,” he says sincerely.
“Yeah. Except he’s made it abundantly clear there’s little chance of that.”
I don’t need to explain the “he” in this scenario.
“Stranger things have happened. Besides, I’d say someone who wants regular check-ins on his roommate must feel some kind of way.”
“Hmmm…” I give in to the drag of heavy eyelids. Just for a moment.