Chapter 43 #2
“Miss Gigioliotti, you don’t look to be on his calendar. Are you sure you made an appointment?” she asks, clicking around and tutting.
“Oh, that silly man,” I say, hamming it up. “I told him at breakfast to make sure he told you I would be popping in for him to sign papers.”
Her eyebrows arch in my direction at that comment, clearly a revelation given the shock on her face.
“I didn’t realize that you and Mr. Princi are cohabiting?
” It’s half statement, half question, but I don’t confirm or deny either.
I just push on with my agenda, which is getting into my man’s office with the excuse I have paperwork that requires a “wet” signature in hopes he might like to indulge in some wet and wild on the side.
“I’m so sorry to cause any inconvenience. I can text him myself if you prefer. I just thought going through the proper channels would be better.”
“No, no. He has some time blocked out for lunch. Let me take you through.”
I follow her towards his office and steal a moment to take Raf in before Janice knocks to make our presence known. He’s standing in front of his floor-to-ceiling windows behind his desk with his arms braced over his head.
I can see his shoulder muscles tense under his shirt, and there’s something about the stance that feels troubled. An uneasiness settles in my stomach like it always does when things seem to be going too well for me. It never lasts.
“Mr. Princi, Ms. Gigioliotti is here to see you.”
Raf spins, and I immediately clock the small black phone in his right hand. It’s the type of phone AJ would call a burner, and an odd sensation courses through me as Janice forges on.
“She insists she told you at breakfast she was popping in today and you forgot to put it on your calendar,” Janice adds.
I follow his hand as he quickly but smoothly pockets the device. The tolling of the warning bells sharpens, but then he lowers his gaze and looks me over, holding his chin like he’s deep in thought with the hints of a smile tugging at the side of his mouth.
“Hmmm, let me think…was that before or after I went down”—he gives me a knowing smirk, deliberately adding a pause like the tease he is—“to my den to get my laptop?”
“I believe it was after you came back from the den,” I volley back.
“Aha, that makes sense. Apologies Janice. Next time I’ll send you a message so you can add it to the calendar.”
“No problem. Should I close the door on my way out?” She raises her eyebrows at him.
“Yes, please,” he says, not taking his eyes off mine as I walk towards him and he crosses the room to me, eyes darkening the closer he gets.
The soft click of the door tells me Janice has gone, and then Raf is there, taking one of my newly styled waves and letting it fall through his fingers.
“I do like my snacks on demand.” He smirks as he gently runs his pointer finger under my chin and tips my head so he can stare into my face. “But what are you doing here?”
“I have paperwork from Natalia that requires your wet signature,” I say, a smile curving my lips.
“Sounds kinky,” he says, leaning down so his lips are hovering just above mine. “Just one problem…I don’t think I can sign in good faith?”
“Why? Do you think I should have Sophia sign?” I ask seriously. “I mean, we are kinda the poster children for conflict of interest.”
“Technically yes, but that’s not why,” he says, then taps the sole of his leather shoe on the toe of my boot. “You’re wearing those fucking cowboy boots again, and I’m pretty sure I told you to burn them.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “That wouldn’t be very good manners, baby,” I say as I loop my hands around his neck.
“The sexy cowboy gave me these to commemorate our win. You’re more than welcome to buy me a pair to replace them.
You know I love shoes.” I close what distance is left, pressing my lips to his and breathing in his expensive, rich cologne, the faint coconut smell of his styling wax.
His affection and firm touch go some way to settling the flurry of unease in my tummy, and when he runs his hands over my ass and pulls me flush with him, it’s almost forgotten, except then the phone in his pocket digs into me.
I go to ask “What—” but he cuts me off with a more bruising kiss while walking backwards and taking me with him so he can perch his ass on the edge of his table and I won’t have to stand on my tippy-toes—even in my heeled boots—to kiss him. Short girl problems.
“Hmmmm. I think we could get used to these surprise visits,” he says, pressing his hard length against me.
I groan and nuzzle my face into his neck. “That would be one way to give me your wet signature. I can confirm I do approve of that method of signatory.”
“Has anyone told you that you have a wild imagination?”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby,” I say before letting him take my lips into another kiss.
The door rattles, and the rumble of a voice, “Raf, don’t forget you have—” that comes to an abrupt stop causes us to pause.
I turn my head to look over my shoulder and feel my cheeks pinken under the scrutinizing gaze of the older Princi.
I move to put distance between me and Raf, but he holds me firmly in place, turning me so I’m standing between his legs with my back to him and facing his father, who clears his throat.
“Well, hello Miss Gigioliotti. I didn’t see a client meeting on Raf’s calendars, so apologies for the interruption,” he says, emphasizing the client bit. I feel so small under his intense gaze, but I’m used to being the little fish in a pond of powerful men.
“Oh, you can call me Chiara, Mr. Princi. It’s lovely to see you again,” I say politely. “I just needed some paperwork signed for my work visa application.”
“So you’re staying in the US, then? How does your family feel about that?” he asks, getting right to the crux of it.
“Dad, is there something in particular you needed?” Raf interjects.
“Being kept in the loop for one,” he says, circling his finger around us. “And two, to remind you that you have the banquet tonight and if you needed a plus-one I knew of someone, but…”
“Dad, I would rather go alone than have you organize my dates for me,” grunts Raf.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Princi. I’ll make sure he doesn’t embarrass you,” I say, because I can’t help myself. The tension between the two men feels charged, and that tells me words have been had before.
“Raf understands the responsibilities he has to this firm and our family,” he says. His voice is smooth, reassuring, but his dark eyes narrow on me. “I’m sure you can understand, given you also come from a very close-knit family.”
“I do. And yet sometimes, the family doesn’t always know best and you need to stand on your own two feet,” I say, holding up the paperwork by way of explanation.
We stay locked in a stand-off of sorts for a beat, the look on his face indecipherable, like he can’t decide whether he’s impressed with my bravado or offended that I’ve dared to speak up.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned coming from an all-powerful family, it’s if you let them take your voice away, you give them the ultimate power.
“Well, I trust you two will have a lovely time then,” he says at last. “Raf, we’ll catch up later. I want to discuss a few things about upcoming cases, too.”
“I’ll come by and see you shortly.”
“See you soon, Mr. Princi,” I say with a wink, because tomorrow night is Marco and Sophia’s big night.
“Call me Patrick. After all, we’ll almost be family soon, too.” Then he walks out, closing the door behind him.
“I can’t tell if he likes me or hates me.” I groan, turning back round to face Raf.
“I don’t really care either way, because I like you. Very much,” he says, but the strain on his features is evident.
“Raf, if it’s going to cause a problem, I don’t have to come tonight. If it’s better for you to go with whoever your dad—”
“I’m my own man. I make my own decisions, and I chose you to be my plus-one.”