Episode 8
Episode 8
Save My Seat
GIOVANNI
Grief was a fickle thing. One minute, I would be completely fine, going about my day-to-day activities as I would any other time. Then I’d catch a scent on the breeze, see a happy couple smiling in a frame on my bookcase, and I would be reminded of what I'd lost. When that moment hit, it was like I’d been gut-punched. My stomach would tighten, abdominals flexing against the invisible intruder. The rest of my body would realize something was amiss and would react accordingly. A sudden ache would throb against my temples. Deep, unending fatigue would coalesce in my veins, a sorrow-filled cocktail of sadness and emptiness.
Everything just felt heavy .
Before my parents left this earth just under three months ago, I would have said I had the perfect family. A stunning fiancée I was head over heels in love with. A best friend I could count on for anything. Extended members of my familial circle, a successful empire, and more money than I could ever spend in one lifetime.
Now, I had nothing.
All of it, gone.
I’d thought losing my parents in that plane crash was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me.
Wrong.
The final blow had been finding my best friend in the entire world fucking my fiancée the night of our rehearsal dinner. A dinner that was already grief-stricken because our parents—mine and my best friend’s—weren’t in attendance after perishing together.
That was the day I knew that none of it mattered. All I’d worked for was gone. The years I’d spent building unshakable trust in a person obliterated . Brenden was not only my partner in business, he’d also been a man I thought of as a brother. We’d been through school, family gatherings, birthdays, holidays, and heartbreak together.
All for what?
Then there was Bianca. When we met, I’d been convinced she was a unicorn. An ethereal creature who’d entered my life on a rainbow of color. Beautiful, intelligent, sexy as sin, and great in bed. From the first day I’d been taken by her charms. Befuddled into believing I was her everything. The voodoo that woman pulled over me was unmatched by any cutthroat businessperson I’d faced before. She chopped up my heart with a machete and never looked back.
The wound Brenden and Bianca created in my soul might never close. It went that deep. Festering and puss filled. I prodded at it often. Tortured myself with thoughts of what might have been if my parents hadn’t died. Would she and Brenden have betrayed me otherwise? How long had they been seeing one another behind closed doors with me none the wiser?
All of these questions, however, didn’t mean shit. Especially once the two eloped shortly after Bianca was supposed to marry me. I’d given that woman eighteen months of my life. Asked her to be my wife on our first anniversary. We were to be wed six months later. But the night before…
I slammed my hand down on the desk before me, forcing myself to push the nasty thoughts aside. As I rubbed at my throbbing temples, a soft knock rattled against the door before Muriel, my assistant, popped her gray-haired head in.
“Mr. Falco, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ve got an urgent message for you from a woman named Alana Toussaint.”
I frowned hearing the name. Alana was a family friend of Lewis and Rachel Myers, Brenden and Julianne’s parents who’d died right alongside my parents. Best friends for life, they’d always said. Even in the end that held true. Unfortunately, the same didn’t hold for the relationships their children had built.
“What’s the message, Muriel?”
“It was kind of cryptic actually. She simply said to check your email, and upon receiving it to enter a code that she’s texting to your phone. Claims it’s information you and only you need to see.” She shrugged.
I sighed, my bones feeling weighed down as I slumped back into my leather chair.
“Thank you. I’ll take a look.” I waved Muriel off and she slipped out of my home office at the lake house, where I’d been holding court and hiding for the better part of two months.
Sometimes I’d sit in the library, reading through tome after tome until I’d lose myself in another world. It was easier than facing reality. Other times I’d set myself up in the small kitchen nook while my chef prepped meals. Having people around who I trusted to keep my whereabouts a secret was imperative. My staff was also amazing at coexisting without endless unnecessary small talk. I wanted to be around people—I was a human who needed the presence of others—but not the kind that was overwhelmingly in my face. Just gentle sharing of space was what I expected, and my assistant, my chef, my personal trainer, and housekeeper understood that need. Besides, the house on Saranac Lake in upstate New York, was massive and had a guest house with several rooms for the people I’ve allowed into my circle of grief.
I didn’t know who I was anymore, and I needed the time and space to figure it out. Everything I’d known and understood to my core about where my life was headed and who would travel that path by my side had been shaken. Destroyed by the worst possible betrayal I could have ever imagined.
Not in a million years would I have believed that Brenden could be capable of such deception. And after the loss of our parents?
The fury, hurt, and disgust reared its ugly head, distracting me once more from the world around me. Until I heard a soft ping come from my cell phone.
I picked it up and glanced at the message. It was from Alana and simply stated JULIANNE.
Why the hell would she put Julianne’s name as a password?
Julianne was Brenden’s younger sister. A woman I admired and respected. She was an incredibly savvy businesswoman who knew the real estate sector inside and out. Her gifts with human resources and bringing in multimillion-dollar clientele were second to none. Not to mention she was funny. Almost cute with her zany, slapstick-style humor. Julianne also happened to be drop-dead gorgeous. Natural red hair that fell in thick waves around her porcelain-white skin. The freckles, though, stole my breath. Ever since I was a teenager, I’d had a crush on my best friend’s little sister, but she was the epitome of off-limits.
Brenden had made it clear that his sister was not a romantic option. He’d drawn a hard line, and I wasn’t to cross it. I think Brenden and I were about fifteen and Julianne thirteen when I really started to see her differently. Brenden started noticing the longing stares I’d give Jules. How I’d tease her endlessly about her freckles even though I wanted nothing more than to play connect the dots across them with my lips. Pay homage to every sprinkle and dot across her pert nose. Run my fingers through that mass of silky, fiery strands.
Julianne represented the one thing I could never have. And because I was a genuine guy, a true best friend to Brenden, I’d pushed my interest aside. Fell in and out of relationships with women over the years like any young man. Until Bianca.
Bianca had swooped into my life and taken it over. I’d been smitten with her. I would have done just about anything to see her happy and now that was Brenden’s job. He’d stolen her right out from under me.
My blood boiled as I glared at the message on my phone, considering just calling Alana and getting to the bottom of whatever it was she wanted to share. And yet something told me to open the email first. Evaluate the information and then make the call.
I opened my laptop, signed into my email, and waited while the damn thing presented the hundreds of messages I’d ignored over the past couple months while I was lost to my grief.
The top email was from Alana Toussaint. I clicked on it and read the paragraph.
Giovanni,
I’m deeply sorry to intrude on your time away. I understand and share in the great loss you’ve experienced. However, a situation has come to my attention I knew you’d want to be apprised of. As you know, I run The Marriage Auction. A candidate has entered who I cannot turn away for reasons that are my own. I will be hosting a private, five-bidder auction in two weeks’ time. Please review the attached candidate information.
Shall I save you a seat as one of the bidders?
Alana Toussaint
Was she delusional? The woman and her husband had been invited to my wedding to Bianca, for crying out loud. How dare she drive a knife into my heart by suggesting I’d want to bid on a new bride. And so quickly after what she knew had been a horrifying betrayal?
“The nerve,” I sneered as I clicked on the attachment.
A pop-up box demanding a password appeared on the screen. I ground down on my teeth as I typed JULIANNE in all caps the same way it was displayed in her message.
Instantly a headshot of Julianne Myers covered my entire screen with the words New Candidate Entered Into Private Auction typed above her head.
The fuck?
I snatched my phone up from where I set it on the desk, scrolled through my contacts, and dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.
“ Bonjour, Gio,” Alana greeted in that melodic French lilt.
“What the fuck are you trying to pull sending me this?” I snapped.
“Ah, I can hear in the tone of your voice you have reviewed my email, oui ?”
“Yeah, I got your fucking message. What kind of shit is this?”
“I’m afraid what you see is what you get, chéri . I couldn’t turn her away.”
“You’re her godmother, for Christ’s sake. You own the auction. Of course you can turn her ass away. You just say no! Or in a language perhaps you understand better, putain non !” Fuck no! I said in French to make my point crystal clear.
“You are angry,” she surmised.
“Yeah, I’m furious. What were you thinking?” I barked.
“Darling, I understand your frustration as it is shared by two. However, Julianne is her own person with her own mind. And she’s made hers up.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, and growled. “ Alana ,” I grated and took a full, deep breath in to calm my wrath. “You cannot agree to this. She’s pulling something.”
“This I know. Our Julianne is a spitfire. She’s also very convincing,” Alana explained gently.
“Pull her ass out!” I demanded.
“ Je suis désolé mon cher ." I’m sorry, dear. “It is done. Julianne will be sold to the highest bidder in two weeks’ time. I have saved you a very coveted seat. When the waitlist of suitors saw ma petite fleur, my little blossom , they went into a frenzy. Many know exactly who Julianne is and the reputation she will bring as a wife. I’ll leave you to your thoughts. It was good talking to you. Ta-ta for now. Au revoir .” Goodbye, she finished and then promptly hung up.
I sat very still, Julianne’s beloved face plastered across my laptop screen.
My Julianne.
The childhood partner in crime I’d climbed trees with alongside her brother.
The friend I’d shared my fears and woes with.
The girl I’d experienced my first kiss with, out on the docks at the very lake house I was hiding in.
The eighteen-year-old I’d deflowered on the best night of my life. One I later had pretended not to remember.
I’d shoved that experience so deep into Pandora’s box over the past eleven years, I was surprised when shame rose to the surface along with the sweet memory of our single night together.
Julianne was going to allow herself to be purchased in The Marriage Auction. Be bid on by strangers. My mouth dried out and bile rose up my throat.
“Over my dead fucking body,” I swore to myself.
I hit the response button on the email and typed out a three-word reply.
Save my seat.