19. Brook
Lo
Brook, are you in Europe?
Syd
Wait? What? Did she return to London?
Paris
She didn’t tell me she was leaving.
You know I’m part of this chat?
We’re on a honeymoon.
Lo
With your brother?
Faking it, obviously.
Syd
Where did you go?
(eye-roll emoji) To Lisbon, so he can work.
Lo
Well, that’s good. At least you’re not sitting alone at home.
Syd
How are you feeling, Paris?
Paris
Like a beached whale, but Finn loves pregnancy sex.
Lo
TMI (puking emoji)
What an asshole!
I order a cocktail and scan the bistro. It’s busy with business-people, tourists, and a Friday night pre-drinks crowd. People chatting in Portuguese and in English, laughing, having fun.
Apparently, Baldo is having fun as well.
He left me alone for three days. I could have slipped and cracked my skull on the bathroom floor, and nobody would have found me for days because my dear husband is avoiding me like the plague.
I guess my editor will be grateful that I channeled my boredom and anger onto the page. My newest manuscript will be the darkest I’ve ever written.
Baldo’s neglect might make me a lot of money, after all. What a lovely honeymoon. Not that he was obliged to wine and dine me, but for fuck’s sake, avoiding me completely?
After he went down on me and delivered a bliss I’d never experienced before then spooked me, I was hoping I’d get a chance to explain myself.
I wasn’t able to on the night he announced our honeymoon, and now I don’t feel like explaining myself to the aloof, distant asshole.
But I guess the failed consummation of our fake marriage was a good enough reason for him to fucking drop me like a dirty sock.
We haven’t been married for a month, and I don’t see us progressing to a year. Fucking Roberta Montgomery.
And what am I even expecting? Happily ever after? It would kill Dad.
Though I have to give it to Baldo, it’s easier to fake it here, where we aren’t under the constant scrutiny.
Lisbon is beautiful.
At first I feared Baldo’s apartment would swallow me, but it’s actually a wonderful home. The lonely wolf created a lair for himself that should feel cold, but somehow it doesn”t.
Only a couple of hours in, the sense of belonging descended on me. Like we designed that place together.
The idea fills me like a bag of chips—delicious on my tongue, but sickening in my stomach.
And while I’m pissed that he abandoned me, I’ve been having a great time. Maybe the year would pass faster if we moved here.
But I just started bonding again with my sisters, not that they would miss me much. I could still visit Dad often.
I take a sip of my cocktail and catch the eye of a sun-tanned man across the bar.
He’s checking me out, and not even trying to be subtle about it. His friend joins him with two girls in tow. I guess no flirting for me tonight.
Not with the freaking ruby boulder and simple wedding band on my finger. God, why do I even wear it? The thought stops me in my tracks.
Why do I wear it?
It’s not like it has any significance.
I drain my drink, swallowing the feeling that coils in my stomach. I slide the set off and put them in the small purse hanging on my hip.
Easy. No significance.
“Can I have another one?” I smile and gesture to the bartender.
I need a drink to solidify the no-significance. Because if there was a ring that meant something, it definitely would be the one burning a hole in my purse.
If only I knew what it means. Baldo Cassinetti is an expert at giving whiplash to a girl, that’s for sure.
In any case, it doesn’t mean much to him.
After Celeste and Saar talked me into another seduction mission and helped me choose my outfit, I went to look for him.
Only to find him half-hugging a tall brunette. Stay overnight. We’ll have breakfast together. Fuck him.
“Você está aqui sozinha?”
I turn, and I’m immediately blinded by the cutest smile. I guess the sun-tanned dude abandoned his group.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Portuguese.”
He grins, dimples and all. “Where are you from?”
“New York. I’m Brook.” I extend my hand.
He kisses it, staring into my eyes. “Nice to meet you, Brook from New York. I’m Miguel from Lisbon, and I was asking if you’re here alone.”
I giggle. “Pleasure to meet you, Miguel from Lisbon. I’m alone here, but it looks like you have company.”
I glance toward his group where his friend chats with the two girls, not minding us at all.
“The more the merrier.” He winks. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Your margarita.” The waiter places the drink in front of me.
I shrug. “You can buy me the next one if you’re still around.” I take a sip, smiling over the rim of my glass.
This guy is hot, and the way he’s paying attention to my every move is a great self-confidence boost after the last few days. And yet, I’m forcing myself to enjoy his company.
He leans in and whispers into my ear. “Or maybe you can come dancing with us, and that way we make sure I’m around to order you the next one.”
Smooth.
This could be fun, so why do I want to tell him I have plans? Why do I believe that going back to the large, empty apartment and curling up with my book would be more fun?
Because I’m hoping Baldo will come home. Can I be more pathetic?
Maybe I should go clubbing. It usually helps to numb my thoughts. It’s fun. He seems like a decent person. Even flirting, he hasn’t been creepy. Leaning in, but not touching.
There is nothing wrong with him or this situation, and yet…
He’s not Baldo.
Fuck.
“I love dancing.” I slide from my bar stool and down my cocktail. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Saar
How is Operation Seduction?
I’m clubbing.
Celeste
At his club?
Yes. With another man.
Saar
Making him jealous. Good move.
Celeste
Just be careful not to scare him away.
I don’t think he cares.
Saar
Where is your spark, woman?
I saw him with someone else.
Celeste
Fucking?
Not yet.
Celeste
Don’t jump to conclusions.
Saar
Or just have fun with the new guy. Party away, my friend.
Not feeling it.
Celeste
(crying emoji, kissing emoji)
Saar
I’ll be in Europe in a few days, I’ll cheer you up.
Celeste
And I’m stuck here.
Better than stuck alone in my husband’s apartment.
Saar
Go have fun @brook. @celeste wanna go out tonight?
Of course, we go to the best club in the city. Baldo’s fucking club.
It’s not even eleven and the place is packed. Miguel and his friends are fun, but I’ve been nursing my one drink, pretending to enjoy myself.
Being in Baldo’s domain has killed the mood. I’m mad at him, but I’m even more upset with myself.
It’s annoying to feel guilty for taking off my ring. It makes no sense. It’s also annoying that a part of me wants him to find me here with Miguel and get jealous.
As jealous as I am over his long-legged brunette who—just my luck—is here, and very friendly with everyone.
Clearly she’s a regular. Of this joint, and probably of Baldo’s. What would she say if she knew he got married while he took his trip to the States? I bet he didn’t share that with her.
“You’re a cheap date.” Miguel bumps into me with his hip.
We’re standing by a tall, round table near the dance floor. The rest of the group is dancing, but I lost all interest as soon as I found out where we were going.
“Excuse me?” I cock my head, but Miguel is smirking.
“You’ve had this one drink since we came.”
I laugh. “Sorry. It’s not my kind of place.”
It’s so my kind of place. I love everything about it. The VIP rooms are upstairs, with glass overlooking the dance floor down here.
There are actually three dance floors, one on each floor, each playing different music.
The service is great. It would be fun, if this wasn’t his club.
Miguel runs his hand down my arm and lands it on my hip. I don’t want it there and try to step back.
He asks me something, but the DJ blares something in the speakers, so I yell, “What?”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Miguel repeats, and immediately jerks his head back.
“I’d take that question back and leave if I were you,” the velvet baritone echoes behind me. Only its sound is far from velvet, more like scratchy linen.
I whip around, and the sight momentarily takes me aback. Baldo wears jeans and a black button-down, not his usual suit. His hair is messed up on top, as if he’s been running his hand through it.
His sleeves are rolled up, and how did I not know his arms are inked? Somehow I absorb all of this in the blink of an eye, before I remember what’s going on.
“What the fuck?” And just to make a point—not sure yet what kind of a point—I step closer to Miguel.
The wrong move, because Miguel decides to wrap his arm around my waist.
First, I don’t want him to fucking touch me. Second, based on the fury in Baldo’s eyes, the gesture might cost Miguel a limb.
Baldo steps forward, his lips curling into a smirk. “Let. Go. Of. Her.”
Aside from the burning eyes, there is no sign of this being a disagreement. To anyone around us, he would look composed.
Or maybe just to me. So in contrast with my heart galloping in my chest.
I’m partially furious that he would dare interfere, and partially excited that he’s jealous. I’m a lost cause when it comes to this man.
Despite that, how dare he?
“Who is this?” Miguel drops his hand and turns to me.
“The man who will break your arm if you touch her again,” Baldo growls.
“Fuck you,” Miguel spits. “I don’t need this shit.” He looks at me. “At least you were a cheap date.” He shakes his head and turns to leave.
He doesn’t make it far. Baldo grabs his collar, and now the people around us have certainly realized something is going on.
“Baldo,” I yelp as his fist connects with Miguel’s jaw.
The room around us erupts in gasps and cheers, while the rest of the club continues its normal flow.
Miguel stumbles, swearing, holding his chin.
“Mr. Cassinetti, we take it from here.” A bulky man appears from somewhere and grabs Miguel. His colleague steps in front of Baldo and me.
“You’re Cassinetti, the owner?” Miguel gawks, his lip already swollen.
“And you’re banned from here.” Baldo shakes off his hand and cracks his neck.
“You can’t do that,” Miguel protests as the two security guards crowd him.
“I can, asshole. Nobody touches my wife, or talks to her like you just did.”
A few whistles and a moment of silence is all that happens before Baldo faces me, and everyone resumes what they were doing before the interruption.
“Was that really necessary?” I try to disregard the butterflies in my stomach.
I can’t condone his behavior. However hot it was. Wait? What? Not hot.
Inappropriate. Aggressive. Panty-melting. Jesus. What was in that drink?
I don’t know how to cope with the tug of war inside me. What the actual fuck just happened? And why is it equally hot and infuriating?
Baldo steps closer. I can’t read his face. It’s full of something.
Raw. Primal and kind of scary. “Where is your ring?”