Chapter 16 Austin #2
Did he just accuse me of being a gold digger?
Fucking hell, I can feel my blood starting to boil.
DeLuca managed to insult me in less than thirty seconds, which is a good way to get my Southern showin’, as Chance says.
“You know, back where I’m from, if you wanted to know about a man, you asked him face-to-face. ”
“I am quite aware of where you are from, Mr. Massey. I remain unimpressed.”
Keep cool, man. Be polite and walk the fuck away. I give him a parting smile that I know is more a baring of teeth than anything remotely friendly, but it’ll have to do. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m dating Emi and not you, Mr. DeLuca.”
“You are mistaken. You are not dating my daughter. She has merely been passing the time with you until Marco returns from Italy.”
At the mention of another man’s name, I freeze in place.
I have the sudden feeling that I’m kneeling with my head on a chopping block, waiting for DeLuca to drop the guillotine blade on my neck.
I manage to unclench my jaw, but before I can ask who the fuck Marco is, Emi’s dad glances past my shoulder and beckons someone over.
“There he is! Marco, it is good to see you. Welcome home,” he says as he embraces a man who could win a young David Gandy look-a-like contest. They speak briefly in energetic Italian like they’re reminiscing about Grandma’s famous meatballs, but for all I know they could be plotting my untimely death.
Finally, DeLuca turns back to me. “Mr. Massey, allow me to introduce you to Marco Moretti, heir to the Moretti fortune, future CEO of DeLuca Enterprises, and—”
Jesus, DeLuca’s really got a hard-on for this guy.
“—Emi’s fiancé,” he finishes.
What?! My gaze bounces between the two men in front of me, but gauging from the smug look on DeLuca and the sincere pride on Moretti’s, there’s no punchline coming any time soon.
“Marco, this is Austin Massey,” DeLuca continues as though he didn’t just drop the bomb that blew apart everything in my world. “He has been spending time with Emi the past couple of months.”
“Ah, so you’re the friend I’ve heard so much about.”
Marco holds his hand out, his Colgate smile blinding me.
I consider taking a page from DeLuca’s playbook and ignoring it, but the manners ingrained into my DNA demand I shake an offered hand, so I do.
I even manage to not crush it with the force of the pain coursing through my veins. My mother would be proud.
“You and Emi,” I say, “you’re engaged. As in married.”
Marco nods. “That’s the plan,” he says with a happy groom-to-be chuckle that I’d like to knock his teeth out for. “It hasn’t been easy being away from her for the past year, but now that I’m back in Chicago, we can start making the arrangements.”
I don’t know what to think right now. Marco is exactly the sort of man Emmélie should be with.
Tall and refined, every inch of him screams wealth, from the TAG Heuer on his wrist to the Jaguar I can only assume is parked in the garage of his mansion.
He has all the right breeding and everything in his favor.
It might feel like he’s the man taking her away from me, but it sounds like he had her first. I’m the one who’s been encroaching on his territory, not the other way around.
Another knife in my side is the fact that Emi hasn’t been upfront with me about her availability, or lack thereof.
I know she’s been worried about telling her father about us, but I didn’t realize it was because she’d be breaking off an engagement in the process.
But Marco’s innocence doesn’t completely absolve him in my eyes, either. I follow in DeLuca’s footsteps after all. “Funny. In all the time I spent with her, Emi never mentioned you.”
Confusion flickers across Moretti’s face before he understands I’m no friend of his. Maybe in another life, if we’d met at a bar or a hockey game, Marco and I would’ve hit it off. But in this world, he’s the man between me and the woman I want.
DeLuca claps a reassuring hand on Moretti’s shoulder. “Marco, go get yourself a drink. When I am done speaking to Mr. Massey, we will go find your beautiful bride-to-be, eh? She will be so happy to see you.”
Marco shoots daggers my direction one last time before following orders. As soon as he’s out of earshot, Vincenzo turns back to me with a smirk twisting his features. “You didn’t think you were actually good enough for my daughter, did you? A civil servant and common stripper?”
My eyes widen, and his smirk turns to a sneer.
He’s loving throwing me off. It’s a calculated attack of hit after hit.
Just when I think I’ve recovered from the last blow, he lands another.
“Oh yes,” he says, “I know about that, too. It’s hidden enough to pass a cursory check, but I am a very thorough man.
Everything I learned about you proves you are not worthy of my daughter. These are the facts, Mr. Massey.”
“Maybe you should let your daughter decide what she finds to be worthy,” I say through clenched teeth. It’s a weak-as-hell argument but it’s all I have right now. They blindsided me, and I’m still fucking reeling.
He steps closer and dares to place a hand on my shoulder.
When I go to jerk away from him, he squeezes.
I stop myself from throwing his hand off because a small part of my brain is still functioning, and I don’t want to cause a scene at Emi’s fancy event.
I refuse to prove these assholes right that I’m nothing more than a hillbilly Neanderthal.
“Emi and Marco are cut from the same cloth. They are first generation Italian-American from wealthy families. She is accustomed to a certain way of life, one that Marco can provide for her. She is a delicate orchid that needs the proper environment to bloom and thrive. In your world, Emi’s spirit will eventually wilt and die, and she will come to resent you for all the things you cannot give her. ”
And there it is. The ugly truth. DeLuca essentially just dumped gasoline all over my heart, then dropped a match and used the flames to roast marshmallows as the love that’s been giving me life slowly incinerates. Fucking hell, that hurts.
“They have known each other since they were young, and he loves her,” he continues. “More importantly, Marco can give her the kind of life she deserves. He will make her happy. Can you honestly say the same?”
I don’t know that I can honestly say anything right now. My head is fucking spinning. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all standing around deciding Emi’s future for her, like she has no say in any of this. “Just for argument’s sake,” I say. “What if Emi wants to be with me?”
Vincenzo stands taller, regarding me the way you would a shoe after stepping in dog shit. “If Emmélie does not marry Marco as planned, she will bring shame to me and my family name. For that, she would not be forgiven.”
The fuck? He can’t mean… “Are you telling me that you’d disown your only child? You would completely cut her out of your life?”
Images of my mom crying softly in her room, holding a framed photo she kept in her bedside drawer of her family flood my mind. It broke my heart to see her so lonely, so isolated, knowing that no matter how much I loved her, it couldn’t fix that feeling for her.
DeLuca doesn’t confirm my suspicion, but he sure as fuck isn’t denying it either.
Emi would be utterly destroyed if she lost her father.
My chest feels like a steel band is tightening, crushing everything inside and making it hard to breathe.
I glance past Vincenzo, and like a beacon of light to a lost ship at sea, I find Emi as she enters the room.
She stops in her tracks as she realizes who I’m standing with, then pushes her way through the crowd on her way over to us. I can’t do this right now.
Tossing back my drink, I slam the glass down on the nearest table and head for the back to make my escape.
Living in a fairy tale was fun while it lasted, but it’s time to return to the real world.
I don’t belong here. I never have, and I never will.
Dragging Emi down to my level is selfish, something only a villain would do, and I try not to be the bad guy unless I’m role playing for sex.
I need to embrace my usual role as the hero.
Because for her, I’d do anything…even if it means giving her up.