Be With Me, page 9
part #1 of House of Ferraro Series
Fabi kicked at the water to float closer to us. “I messaged him to ask if we could meet up for dinner and actually talk about, you know…our upcoming marriage.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
“And he texted back with one word: ‘Busy.’”
My nostrils flared. What a jerk. This woman was about to become his wife, and he was too busy for her?
I was offended on Fabi’s behalf.
“Asshole,” Zo muttered.
Nina pursed her lips. “That’s not right. You should talk to Rafaele about it.”
Fabi stared into her wineglass. “What’s the point?”
“He can get Cosimo in line,” Nina said.
Frustration pulsed at my temples. “Or maybe if he knew your fiancé was actively ignoring you, he’d change his mind about this whole damn wedding.”
What they were doing to Fabi was awful, and I didn’t care if “that’s just how things were done” in their world. This whole situation was barbaric. She was being handed off to a criminal and expected to smile through it.
Given that their own mother’s marriage had been a nightmare, I couldn’t understand how her brother could do this to her.
“That’s not gonna happen,” Fabi said, defeated. “I always knew I’d have to get married to someone I didn’t choose for myself, so I’m not expecting fireworks, you know? Honestly, I was prepared for apathy. But it seems like he hates me. Or maybe he’s just disgusted by me.”
“There’s no way,” Nina said. “He doesn’t know you yet, which is why he doesn’t understand you’re a damn catch.”
“Well, he doesn’t seem to have any interest in getting to know me,” Fabi said. “Maybe the best I can hope for is that he’ll just ignore me once we’re married. I mean, one day, he’ll expect kids, but it’s not like that day has to be anytime soon.”
I clenched my jaw. “And what if that’s not what happens?”
Fabi stared out toward the ocean. “I’ll just have to figure it out.” I watched her float to the edge of the pool and set her empty wineglass on the patio. “Guys, let’s just go. I want to have a good time tonight. I want to dance. I want to drink.” She hauled herself out of the pool, looking a little buzzed already. “I just want to forget he exists for one night.”
I bit my lip.
Maybe if Fabi spent tonight like a normal person, she’d realize what she was giving up. Maybe she’d put up more of a fight.
But then again, I understood family loyalty. I understood duty. God, better than anyone.
Still, what I was doing for my dad’s campaign was temporary. It would end.
For Fabi, this was the rest of her life.
Zo twisted the cap back onto her nail polish and tossed it onto the coffee table. “It’s settled. We’re going out.
I dragged my palms down my thighs. “I didn’t even bring anything to wear.”
Zo smirked. “Come on. I’ve got plenty of things you can borrow.”
CHAPTER 13
MIA
It was just after eleven when we arrived at the party.
A security guard greeted us at the door and handed each of us a small black sticker. "Put this over your camera. No pictures allowed. If anyone catches you breaking the rule, you're out."
I didn’t know how the other girls felt about that, but I was relieved. The last thing I needed was photographic evidence of me looking like this on someone’s phone.
I tugged my black cardigan tighter around me as we made our way inside. The party was already in full swing. Music pounded through the space so hard that the glassware in the cabinets behind the massive bar rattled with every beat.
“Isn’t this great?” Zo shouted over the noise.
I was a little tipsy, but not tipsy enough to feel comfortable in the outfit I was wearing.
Zo had an affinity for going out in barely there clothing, which was how I'd ended up in a slinky, metallic-pink slip dress with slits up both sides and a cowl neck that barely clung to my chest. I wasn’t used to wearing so little, and my instinct was to keep the cardigan wrapped tightly around me like armor.
Zo wasn’t having it.
She grabbed my hands and pulled me toward her. “Okay, Mia, it’s showtime. Take it off.”
I shook my head. “I really don’t know about this.”
“Come on.” She gave my arm a dramatic shake. “No one’s gonna recognize you anyway. Not under all that glitter.”
She was probably right.
Zo had doused me in so much glitter, I could blind someone if I walked into direct sunlight. My cheekbones, shoulders, and even my collarbones shimmered under the lights. My hair was pulled into two space buns, and my eyes were winged with metallic-blue eyeliner.
I didn’t look anything like the polished, put-together politician's daughter the public saw on TV.
And with no cameras allowed…
All right. Screw it.
I shrugged off the cardigan.
Zo snatched it from my hands and clapped like I’d just done something groundbreaking. “There we go. You look amazing.”
Fabi and Nina, who had disappeared a minute ago to grab drinks, appeared with cocktails in hand. The moment they saw me, they whooped their approval.
"Let’s get this party started," Fabi declared, shoving a margarita into my hand.
The dance floor was in the center of the massive living room and already packed.
We wove through the crowd until we found an open spot. The bass was so loud it vibrated through my chest.
I had to admit, this party wasn’t as sloppy as I'd expected. The crowd was our age or older, which explained why it didn’t have the chaotic, beer-soaked energy of a frat house rager.
Fabi caught my eye and smiled, shaking her hips to the beat. She looked lighter than she had all weekend.
Much better than by the pool earlier.
I wanted to talk to her some more about Cosimo. But I also knew she didn’t want to talk about Cosimo. Not tonight.
I understood that.
Nina had grilled me about Romolo on the drive here, digging for details on how our first meeting had gone. I gave her the highlight reel, carefully skimming over the part where he’d almost kissed me.
Because that?
I wasn’t ready to admit that had happened.
The memory made me feel played—like I’d walked into a trap I should have seen coming. It was exactly the kind of move someone like Romolo Ferraro would pull.
He hadn’t meant anything by it. I knew that. He was trying to mess with me. Get under my skin.
So why had I considered—just for a moment—letting him do it?
I really was an idiot. Drawn to him like a moth to a flame, fluttering my wings dangerously close to the heat.
But I didn’t need to give him any real estate in my mind tonight. Fabi wasn’t thinking about Cosimo, so I wasn’t going to think about Romolo.
I just needed to stop overanalyzing everything and—
Zo grabbed my wrist and spun me to the music. I laughed, letting myself relax.
“To the Valais Vixens!” Zo declared, lifting her glass into the middle of our circle.
Nina groaned as we clinked glasses. “When are we going to retire that name?”
“Never!” Zo shouted. “And stop trying to change the group chat name. You know I’ll just change it back.”
I grinned. “It’s part of our lore.”
Nina rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “We came up with that name when we were thirteen. Haven’t we earned something a little more grown-up by now?”
“Growing up is overrated,” Zo declared, throwing back half her cocktail.
“Amen to that,” Fabi said, doing the same.
A crack of thunder echoed through the house, sending a few girls shrieking before they dissolved into laughter.
Nina glanced toward the window. “Sky’s looking rough.”
Dark clouds loomed beyond the glass, thick and heavy, promising a downpour. I vaguely remembered seeing something about a storm in the forecast.
Good thing we were close to Fabi’s mom’s house—a fifteen-minute drive, tops.
“Oh shit.” Zo froze mid-step, the excitement in her expression shifting into something sharper.
“What?” I asked.
“You’re not going to believe who’s here.”
A prickle of unease crawled up my spine.
I turned.
Across the room, a familiar pair of gray eyes locked onto mine.
CHAPTER 14
ROM
I hadn’t been sure she’d show up tonight. When I saw her friend’s Instagram story earlier about them going to the Hamptons, I knew it was a long shot. But when it came to the work I did, finding the right opportunity to corner a target unexpectedly could be make or break.
Mia had probably thought the last time she’d see me would be at our meeting next week.
She was wrong.
I wasn’t ready to be done with her—not even close. She was still my best shot at getting something useful about Morales. Even if she seemed far too innocent to be involved in whatever plan he might be scheming, she was close to him. Close enough to pick up on things she might not even realize were valuable.
I wasn’t giving up that easily.
So I cancelled my plans for the day and moved fast.
It took me five minutes to find a mutual connection with Zo in the list of people she followed. Another ten to hear back from him. After I’d laid the bait, I sped down here in my car despite the fact that the weather forecast said it might rain. And I waited.
Hours of waiting.
The last thing Zo had posted was a shot of them lounging by the pool, cocktails in hand, the sun glinting off their sunglasses. That was this afternoon. Since then—nothing. No updates. No way to know if they’d actually show up at this party.
By the time I spotted them walking through the doors, my patience was running thin.
I watched and planned my next move as they made their way through the crowd. And then Mia took off that sweater, and I nearly choked on my drink.
What the fuck was she wearing?
A pulse of something sharp and territorial ran through me.
That tiny slip of a dress was practically falling off her body. Those slits sliced high up her thighs. And all that soft, brown skin was on display.
A muscle in my jaw twitched. I forced myself to take a slow, even breath.
Why did I even care? Mia Morales wasn’t mine. She was just a target.
But that knowledge didn’t stop me from seeing red.
“You want in on some of this?” Johnny, the host, asked from where he sat, pulling my gaze to the line of coke he was casually cutting on the glass table.
It was our product. Best in the state, courtesy of our Colombian suppliers. They knew it too, which was why they were playing hardball in this year’s contract renegotiations. I was more than happy to let Cosimo deal with that headache.
“I’m good,” I said. The last time I’d touched the stuff, I was eighteen and stupid, desperate for an escape. I grew out of it fast when I saw what happened to the men who didn’t.
Johnny snorted the line and tipped his head back with a blissed-out sigh.
I turned back toward the dance floor. Fuck. He’d distracted me, and now Mia was gone. Her friends were still there, but she’d run off somewhere.
Hiding from me?
Good luck. The house was big, but not big enough.
Nina’s sharp glare was fixed on me. She shook her head in warning.
I just smirked.
She didn’t like Mia getting entangled with me? Too fucking bad. I still needed to have a word with my cousin about that fucking horoscope she put together, but that could wait.
Pushing off the wall, I went in search of my little stylist.
I knew my way around here. Johnny was a regular at Black Silk, and I always got invites to his Labor Day parties, along with the others he threw during summers. By day, he designed software. By night, he liked to pretend he had an edge.
He was the kind of guy who had missed out on partying in his twenties and was now desperately making up for lost time at thirty-five.
But he wasn’t stupid.
If photos of him getting sloppy surfaced online, there’d be hell to pay. His PR team had probably begged him to enforce that no-camera rule. Everyone generally obeyed.
Everyone except me. I didn’t play by the fucking rules.
Something Mia was about to find out.
I checked behind a few of the doors—empty bedrooms. Halfway down the hall, I stopped.
A familiar scent lingered in the air. Lily of the valley.
My gaze flicked to the door on my right. A bathroom. She was in there.
I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. I could wait. What was another minute or two when she’d made me wait hours?
The lock turned. The door slid open.
And there she was.
In that fucking dress.
The little metallic thing clung to her curves like a second skin. Did she have any idea? Was she aware that every man in this house probably salivated when she walked past?
Her wide brown eyes locked onto mine.
"We need to talk," I ground out.
"No thanks.” She tried to brush past me, like she actually thought I’d let her go. She even had the nerve to look surprised when my arm shot out and blocked her path.
I leaned down, bringing my lips close to her ear. Her whole body stiffened. “It’s about The Golden Circle party.”
She swallowed. “What about it?”
"Too loud here. Can’t hear a word you’re saying."
I grabbed her hand and pulled her into one of the empty bedrooms I’d just checked.
Once we were shut inside, I took my time looking at her.
From the bottom of her high heels to the top of her head. She was covered in glitter, and her hair was fixed in two buns on her head. I didn’t know what to call that fucking hairstyle, but it was sexy—just like the rest of her—and it made my dick twitch. “Nice outfit.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. Her arms folded protectively around her waist, like she wasn’t quite comfortable in the dress.
Her friends must have talked her into wearing it. Figures.
"Did you really want to talk about the project?"
"Sure." Of course the fuck not. But I’d been right about this being an opportunity, and it was about to pay off.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of her.
Her eyes widened. "Hey! What are you doing? You’re not supposed to take pictures in here. That’s the rule!”
"Fuck the rules.”
She dropped the tiny purse that was slung over her shoulder onto the ground and lunged for my phone.
I dodged her easily, holding it over my head, far out of her reach.
A frustrated sound escaped her throat. "Romolo, delete it!"
"Like hell." I’d decided when I saw her just now that I was done playing nice. Why waste time trying to coax the information out of her when she made blackmail so damn easy? The quicker I got what I wanted, the quicker I could be done with her. I didn’t feel like myself in her vicinity, and I didn’t fucking like it.
She tried again, hopping on her heels, her fingers wrapping around nothing but air.
I backed away from her grasping hands until my calves hit something hard.
A sofa.
I dropped onto it, still holding the phone high above my head, pressing it against the wall behind me. Mia—so desperate to get it—didn’t think twice before crawling onto my lap.
Her soft, bare thighs straddled me. They were warm against my legs, and my pulse fucking jumped.
"Romolo," she huffed, stretching for the phone, her body flush with mine. "Just give it to me."
“No.” My jaw clenched as her breasts pressed against my cheek. I had to bite back a groan.
"Romolo, please," she begged.
Did she realize what she was doing?
Or was she doing it on purpose to distract me?
I had to admit—it was working. She was everywhere. That soft, floral lily of the valley scent clung to her skin, filling my lungs with every inhale. I clenched the back of her barely there dress with my fist and thought hard about whether I wanted to pull her away from me or tug her even closer.
Her hand slid up my arm, the other one pushing against my shoulder as she braced herself. Then, using the leverage of her knees against my thighs, she stretched just enough to snatch the phone from my hand.
She sank back onto my lap, victorious and so fucking absorbed with the phone she didn’t seem to realize I was as hard as a damn rock.
The phone was locked.
She turned it toward me, trying to activate Face ID.
“It’s not enabled,” I said, my voice tight. “You’ll need my passcode."
"What is it?" she demanded, eyes snapping back to mine.
She shifted, and I could tell the exact moment she felt my erection.
Her eyes widened. Pupils dilated. Throat bobbed.
"What do you think the news outlets will say when they see how the next mayor’s daughter dresses when she’s off duty?" I squeezed my fist into her dress, pulling the fabric taut around her waist. She had the kind of body that turned heads. My muscles strained from the effort it took not to grind against her. “Kind of goes against all those wholesome family values your dad loves to preach about, doesn’t it?"
Whatever hint of arousal might have been there in her expression moments earlier disappeared in a flash. “You’re an asshole." Betrayal ran through her eyes, and it fascinated me.
Because it implied some part of her had trusted me.
Even if just a little.
Jesus Christ.
How the fuck was she still alive and walking around with that kind of naïveté?
My gaze licked over her collarbones, then down to the low neckline of her dress. That fucking glitter. It made her look like some kind of mythical creature—a being not meant for a place like this.
Not meant for a man like me.
At some point, my other hand had settled on her waist.
I didn’t even remember doing it.
