I adjusted one of my pigtail buns in the bathroom mirror, reciting every Italian curse word I knew in my mind. Took a deep breath.
He was out there, being as polite as ever. Where he pulled that charm from, I’d never know. Valentina hadn’t wasted any time, drifting to his side and laughing at everything he said. For God’s sake, the man wasn’t even funny.
“Gianna,” Valentina called out. “Come here! Christian was just telling me the most amusing story.”
I frowned, not pausing in my trek to the minibar. “Who?”
She faltered, looking to Christian, who stood beside her and who seemed to show no confusion toward my slight. And then she pouted. “Christian, tell her to stop being rude.”
His cold eyes were on me as he responded to her. “Of course. Who are you talking about?”
Since he’d arrived, we’d been playing one of my favorite games: pretending the other didn’t exist. Though, in truth, I’d prefer if he wasn’t here at all. His presence created this edgy sensation beneath my skin, like I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“What’s going on between you and Allister?” Luca asked, invading my space near the minibar.
“Apathy,” I responded, sipping my Tequila Sunrise.
“He touched your face.”
“It’s called a lack of boundaries, Luca. Something most men in New York are familiar with.” I glanced pointedly at the two inches of space between us. The irony didn’t escape me that a lack of boundaries had always fit me where Christian was concerned better than it ever had him. What an annoying realization.
“I don’t like it. You are not his to touch.”
“Aw, it’s so sweet of you to protect my honor, Luca.”
He grabbed my wrist before I could walk away. “I’m not protecting yours, I’m protecting Richard’s. He’s a capo and is due the respect of one.”
“Bummer.” I pouted, wrenching my wrist back. “Thought I might be seeing a sliver of a soul in you.”
Luca left without a parting word, like usual, and then I got caught up in conversation, moving around the room like a social butterfly with an anxiety problem.
My gaze drifted to a sparkle on the floor-to-ceiling window. Christian stood near the pool with Ms. Perfect Elena Abelli, both of their eyes on the nighttime sky. Was he telling her what Andromeda’s name meant? A wave of something unpleasant passed through me. I stared at the line of his shoulders, at the smooth cut of hair at his neckline. It was so perfect a physical part of me wanted to
run my hand through it to mess it up. The mentally sound part of me wanted to shove him out the door.
I realized then why he’d always been able to get under my skin.
He made me feel like I was a little girl again—hungry for attention and affection.
And I hated him for it.
Ace leaned against the wall staring at the two perfect people on the terrace with an intensity not befitting a soon-to-be brother-in-law by any means. His and Elena’s relationship was a volatile situation not a blind man could miss, let alone Christian Allister, Seer of All Things He Shouldn’t. Was he interested in Elena Abelli, or was he being his strategic and cold self with an endgame? At this point, it didn’t matter, because it seemed Ace’s marriage agreement with Adriana was about to be blown out of the water.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“That pot sure is smellin’ sweet,” Nico’s uncle Jimmy said as he walked past.
I, as well as Jimmy, might have had quite a bit of money on the gamble that Ace wouldn’t go through with the marriage to Adriana, but I still wasn’t looking forward to the trouble it would cause.
The next fifteen minutes happened, and that bet was practically in the bag. It seemed Ace had had enough of Elena and Christian’s chat, and so, naturally, he pushed her into the pool, leaving everyone staring and speechless.
I gave Elena the change of clothes I’d brought with me because, honestly, I felt bad for her. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of Ace’s affections. He was softer in a way than his papà had ever been—I admired Ace’s late mamma Caterina for that—but he was still the same pushy, confident man who always got what he wanted. I worried he would bulldoze right over sweet Elena Abelli.
The incident had killed the mood, and the party dispersed soon after.
“Thank you for coming. Sorry about the—” My smile faltered. “Um, situation.”
Salvatore Abelli gave me a disapproving look before he and the rest of his family left. Well, at least there hadn’t been bloodshed. That seemed to be a recurring theme at these parties with the Abellis.