Chapter Sixteen
Austin
“Come on,” Liam says. “Everyone’s at least three free drinks ahead of us in there.”
As we head to the main ballroom, I give him a sidelong glance. “I don’t think you can call them free when we paid two grand a plate.”
“Exactly.”
I laugh and shake my head at Liam’s knucklehead mentality. We weave our way through the crowd, easily finding our group with how big Chance and Roman are. Chance is dressed like me, in a traditional tux with his hair pulled back in a short ponytail. Jane is next to him in a red evening gown, her chestnut hair pinned up.
Roman looks like he’s already started undressing, although I know this is how he showed up. His bowtie is undone, with his tux shirt open at the neck. His hair looks like Addie just got done running her fingers through it, and his earrings and tongue piercing are all in. This is what I call his half-and-half look. Half Roman, half Ruthless—the sophisticated badass. Even still, Addison easily upstages him in her aqua blue dress and blond hair in loose curls. Raquel is also beautiful and the picture of innocence in all white, with her brown hair lying in a straight waterfall down her back.
All in all, we make an attractive fucking group, and the attention we’re getting proves it. “Is it just me or does everyone keep looking at us?” I ask, glancing around.
“Can you blame them?” Addie says, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“Not with the way you ladies look.” Addie’s face lights up, and she launches herself at the man tossing out compliments to our women. Sam Larsen chuckles and returns her affection with a bear hug. “Hey, little cuz. Having fun?”
Addison pulls away. “For two K a pop, I expected at least a rollercoaster or two. But the open bar will have to suffice,” she says in mock disappointment. “What are you doing here?”
“Every year I pick a different charity to donate to and help with any publicity for the cause, stuff like that. This year I chose Relevé. What are you guys here for?”
Chance lifts his glass of whiskey and points at me. “Massey’s woman runs this thing. She had some guests cancel last minute, and we’re trying to help him get laid, so we jumped in to save the day.”
Everyone laughs, and I shoot Chance my happy middle finger. “You’re an asshole.”
“I know,” he answers with a big shit-eating grin on his face. “So, Larsen, you have a date we can warn away from you around here somewhere?”
“You know me,” Sam says with his thousand-watt smile. “I always come single and ready to mingle. I like to find my dates at the events. Less expectations, more fun.”
“Yeah, we know.” Roman’s mouth is twisted in a scowl, likely remembering last New Year’s Eve when he was trying to win Addison back and assumed Sam was her new boyfriend. It resulted in Roman punching his hero in the face in front of the Drake Hotel, leading to a fight which I then had to break up. Good times.
Raquel’s gaze shoots past me. She smiles in recognition, then waves, beckoning someone over. “Rhona’s here!” she says excitedly, which transfers to the rest of us. It’s been a long time since she’s visited, and we’ve all missed her.
We all turn to see Roman’s older sister crossing the room in a shimmering gold gown that hugs her curves in all the right places. She has the same striking good looks as her brother, with pale olive skin and jet-black hair that she piled in curls on top of her head, accentuating her long neck and killer cleavage, which I purposely do not look at because the girl is like my sister.
Sam’s jaw literally unhinges before he composes himself. “Who is that?”
Oh shit. Roman, Chance, and I all look at each other, our eyes wide, then all at once we glare at Sam and bark in unison. “No.”
Larsen looks offended and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get a word out, Roman says, “Not just no, but hell no, Larsen. That’s my sister.”
“Younger?”
Roman narrows his eyes. “Older.”
The NHL star winces like he’s in physical pain having to hold himself back. “Fine.”
My friends and I relax, but not by much. We know Sam’s reputation with women, and it’s nothing we want Rhona around. He typically goes for older divorcees who like to have a good time with a young hockey stud who has no time or desire for anything serious.
Rhona has had shitty luck with men ever since that tragic night in college when she was raped. Understandably, it gave her trust issues, among other things, and she has a tendency to choose men she knows she can’t depend on in the long run. She’s a total sweetheart with a protective streak a mile wide, and we’d do anything for her.
“Hi, guys!” Rhona starts with the girls, giving them each a hug with unique compliments mixed into their excited chatter. Then she moves on to Liam, me, Chance, and lastly Roman, squeezing him extra-long and kicking her feet up when he lifts her off the ground in a huge bear hug. “So good to see you, little brother,” she says when he finally puts her down. “It’s even better to see you haven’t run Addison off yet. Fair warning, if you guys ever break up, she gets me in the divorce.”
“Nice,” he says as the girls laugh and high five. Then a flash of mischief lights up Roman’s eyes as he glances at Sam, who’s standing behind a completely oblivious Rhona. “Hey, Rho, I told you that the best enforcer in the league came to my birthday party, right?”
Rhona rolls her eyes with a scoff. “How many times do I have to tell you that Larsen isn’t the best enforcer in the NHL? No offense, Addie, I know he’s your cousin, but please. Kane Chapman from the Wild holds the record for most hits in a single season and grinds out the puck to set up more shots than Larsen on his best day. Even Sanders from the Kings hits hard enough to break his opponents’ bones to take them out for an entire season, not just a day. So you can have your little boy crush with Larsen, but you really need to stop calling him the best.”
Our entire group is silent, and if we weren’t surrounded by a few hundred people talking with a string quartet playing background music, you could’ve heard a pin drop. As it was, I think we were all holding our breath, waiting to see what the hell kind of war Roman set off between his sister and his hockey idol.
Surprisingly, Sam’s smile was ear to ear. “I can’t argue with your stats,” he says, “but surely I win for best-looking enforcer in the league. I’m the only one with all my original teeth, that has to count for something.”
Rhona’s eyes grow as big as our two-thousand-dollar dinner plates as she turns around to face the man she just raked over the statistical coals. “Oh my God, it’s you.”
“No, not God,” he says with a wink. “Just Sam.”
“I… I’m…” Finally, she spins around and smacks her brother in the chest, then points a finger right in his face. “I know where you live, and your girlfriend is my ally. You’d better sleep with one eye open or you’ll wake up with one less eyebrow.”
Everyone breaks their silence all at once; the guys are laughing and trying to calm down the girls, who of course band together to avenge Rhona and threaten more delicate things than Roman’s eyebrow.
I scan the room, wanting to lay eyes on Emi, but I don’t see her. I didn’t expect to see much of her tonight, since she warned me how this event usually goes for her, which is mostly running around until after dinner and speeches are out of the way and it settles into the dancing and drinking portion of the evening.
Deciding I need a drink, I leave them to their mini-circus and head over to one of the bars. The bartender hands me a tumbler with scotch on the rocks, and I take a generous sip.
“Austin Massey, I presume.”
Before I even turn around, I know who it is. The Italian accent and commanding tone of a king among his people says it all. Shit. Normally I’d be happy to introduce myself to my girlfriend’s father. I make it hard for parents not to like me, what with my Southern charm and hometown hero thing I have going for me. But I’ve never dated a woman of Emi’s caliber before, and it’s easy to understand why Vincenzo DeLuca might think a man who runs into burning buildings for a living—and gets paid shit to do it—isn’t nearly good enough for his only daughter.
The only thing I have going for me is how much I love her and how dedicated I am to making her happy. I just hope that’s enough.
I smile and turn on the charm full blast as I face the man I hope I’ll be forced to deal with for the rest of my life. Which is a really strange thing to say when I think about it. “Mr. DeLuca,” I say, extending my right hand, “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir. Emi has told me so much about you.”
He briefly glances down at my hand but doesn’t move to shake it, causing me to withdraw so I don’t look like a fucking tool. Well played, DeLuca. Round one goes to you.
“And yet she has told me nothing about you, Mr. Massey. That alone says something, does it not?”
Now I get why Emi asked me not to approach her father tonight. He’s the polar opposite of his jovial, welcoming brother-in-law. Emi said she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about us yet, but according to him, she hasn’t even mentioned me in passing.
“With all due respect, Mr. DeLuca,” I say, keeping my tone polite, “if she’s never told you about me, how did you know who I am?”
He lifts his chin and stares down his nose at me. “It is a father’s duty to know his daughter’s business.”
“Are you saying you spy on Emmélie?”
“Not spy,” he practically hisses. “Look after. Emi is naive and well-off. It is not uncommon for people of lesser means to take advantage. Based on what I have found, it is possible this is your intention with my daughter.”
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.