Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“We should all go upstairs and talk, sì?” Sly breaks the silence—well, not literal silence, the music is still piercing around us—and turns multiple pairs of confused eyes away from me.
I’m grateful for the reprieve, if only for a split second.
“That’s a good idea.” Vinnie bobs her head in a continuous nod, waiting for me to agree, but I’m tongue-tied.
Still in Luciano’s arms, I let my eyes close for a moment while I get my bearings. I’m embarrassed, mostly. Pissed off for not realizing a random guy has been following me all week, gathering information to hand over to Javier.
His words, not mine.
And now I have to explain something to everyone that I’m not entirely ready to share.
My eyes meet my best friend’s and something silent passes between us, but for the first time in our friendship, I can’t decode the message.
Pulling myself from Luciano’s arms, I take a step away from the security blanket of his embrace and nod stiffly at our group of friends. “Okay, let’s go up to the lounge and I’ll explain.”
With a quick glance at him, I turn and push through the masses of people standing between me and the staircase. I can feel him right behind me, and I mentally beg him to grab my hand, craving the reassurance that only he can give me.
I’m equal parts sad and relieved when he doesn’t take it.
Once we’re all upstairs, seated around a couple of tables, I press my fingers to my temples and rub them, staring down at the grains of wood on the smooth, shiny surface.
It’s now or never.
“Almost a year and a half ago, I went to Paris for Fashion Week. I met a man named Javier while grabbing coffee one morning.” I make sure to keep my voice a little more raised than I normally speak, so they can hear me over the music.
My heart hammers in my chest, not really wanting to recount these details.
“He was charming, and the conversation flowed easily, so I didn’t hesitate when he asked me on a date.
We must have gotten too drunk because everything went blank after a few hours.
The next morning, I woke up in his hotel room and snuck out.
” I shrug through the vivid images my mind conjures of what little details I remember from that morning.
The cool tiles beneath my feet. The empty bottles of champagne.
“I was clear about wanting nothing more than a fun fling in Paris.”
Glancing around the group, I inwardly groan as I see my friends hanging on my every word, anxious for me to continue. Beside me, Luciano shifts in his seat, and I don’t blame him for feeling uncomfortable. I do everything I can not to look at him, shame suddenly scorching within me.
My eyes meet Vinnie’s. “Fast forward to a couple weeks ago, Javier showed up in the lobby of my building telling me it’s time to follow him home to Spain and be his little wife. Turns out the two of us exchanged a couple of ‘I do’s’.”
“Raina—” Vinnie interrupts, but Sly places his hand in her lap, and she doesn’t say more.
I swallow thickly. “My first instinct was to beg Luciano to represent me in the divorce, but Javier isn’t letting me off the hook that easily. His family somehow found out he’s married, and he asked me to join him for his father’s funeral and the succession of his title.”
“Succession of title?” Sully interjects, scooting closer to the edge of his seat. He leans forward, giving me his full attention. Clearly, my story has captivated him.
I’m about to answer him when Luce clears his throat and answers for me. “Turns out the asshole’s a baron.”
“What the hell is a baron?” Nixon grunts, scrubbing his chin.
It’s in that moment that I glance around the lounge and realize his date, Carly, isn’t up here with us.
I’m not sure why my thoughts drift to the girl he must have abandoned down on the dance floor, but I can’t say I’m upset about it.
The less people who know about my mess, the better.
The last thing I need is for this to end up in the papers.
“Spanish nobility. It’s irrelevant,” Luciano finishes, waving his hand around.
“Why does he need you there? Why can’t he just tell his family it’s just a paper marriage?” Cecilia asks, ever the mother hen.
“And why did that man refer to my brother as your fiancé?” Vinnie adds, the thought obviously popping into her mind.
A nervous bout of laughter bubbles up my sternum, hurling itself past my lips. Luciano and I share a fleeting glance, and I squeeze my eyes together.
I’m caught between fiction and reality. A fake relationship and a brand new one. The truth and the lie.
“Well, I tried to come up with a reason not to give in to Javier's demands.” I lift my chin, giving my friends a more confident version of myself than I’m feeling. “I made up an engagement and said I couldn’t go to Spain because I love my fiancé and it wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“But you’re not engaged,” Nixon says slowly, like he’s trying to comprehend, while at the same time, Vinnie says, “Wait, what?”
“Let me guess.” Enzo laughs. This is the first time I’ve heard him speak all evening. He juts his chin toward Luciano. “Lover boy over here volunteered for the position.”
“I did what I had to do for my client,” Luciano growls, and I wince at his words. My heart pummels into my stomach, wrecked from the constant whiplash this man gives me—especially in the last hour.
He must have seen or felt my recoil because he whips his head to me, giving me his attention as he meets my eyes.
The rest of the room fades away as he searches them for a moment, and while I know everyone is waiting with bated breath and staring at us, all I see is him.
A whimper catches in my chest as his gaze softens.
My heart beats wildly, like a new band member learning to drum, going off on their own solo performance.
A look washes over his face that’s unlike any other I’ve ever seen. Then, it’s like something clicks for him.
Reaching over, he laces our fingers together and pulls my hand to his mouth, kissing it softly like he did earlier. “I did what I had to do for the woman who crawled under my skin more than a decade ago and refuses to leave my mind. I did it for the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”
My eyes widen at his admission, and mayhem breaks out around us. Our friends begin to talk all at once.
“Oh, shit,” Nixon blurts, then leans back in his chair, spreading his legs to relax his posture.
“The woman you LOVE?” Vinnie leaps from her seat, her hands clapping together.
“Called that one.” Sully chuckles.
“I knew it, too, amico.” Sly grins, and he reaches up to grab onto Vinnie’s hand.
Their voices are like background noise as I stay locked in Luciano’s gaze, neither one of us willing to look away. Questions race through my mind, but only one sentence makes it into my vocal cords. “You are the most confusing man on the planet.”
He smirks. “I don’t even make sense in my own head, trust me. But I mean it, Raina.”
“How can you when you were just pushing me away? You told me you didn’t want to be with me until after my divorce was final and I wasn’t your client anymore. Everything you’ve worked for?—”
“Will be fine.”
“Are you guys going to kiss or what?” Sully cuts through the moment, followed by a sharp thud when Cecilia smacks his chest with the back of her hand, reprimanding him with a “Sully! Stop it.”
Sending Sully a glare, I push to my feet abruptly, grabbing onto Luciano’s wrist as I do, tugging it roughly. “We need to talk.”
Turning on my heel, I cross my arms over my chest and start toward the staircase.
“But wait, what about the rest of the story?” Sully’s voice lifts over the music.
“Shut up, Sully,” my best friend snaps at him, just as I start my descent downstairs.
I don’t bother checking to see if Luce is following me.
Even if he isn’t, I need some air. My story may not be done, but it’s all I’m willing to tell at this moment.
They know enough. The rest I haven’t even fully figured out yet, and while I might confide in Vinnie and Cecilia later, I don’t feel like explaining everything to the men who, frankly, I don’t even know very well.
Pushing through the crowd of people along the edges of the dance floor, the vibration from the music slams into me as I try to swim upstream in the sea of partiers, most too drunk or high to even notice I’m doing my best to weave through them.
When I’m three steps away from the door, the bouncer presses his palm into it, giving me just enough room to slide through.
Once outside, the cold New York air assaults me, feeling like a personal vendetta against my hot skin that’s sticky with sweat, but for the first time in the last thirty minutes, I’m able to breathe.
Then, as I let my eyes fall shut for a moment, my lungs fill with an icy reprieve, and a hand flattens against my neck, pulling me back into someone's chest.