Page 4 of His Obsession
“I don’t know how she didn’t feel it.” I laugh. “We definitely didn’t have birds that big in Manhattan.”
My expression darkens just a fraction. I know she sees it.
She gently places her hand on my knee.
“That’s all over now,” she says softly. “It’s okay to admit you’re building a good life here. You’re killing it with work, you’ve got a great house. Maybe it’s time to think about dipping a toe into the dating scene.”
I shake my head automatically. Nothing could possibly sound worse than trying to date in LA. I’ve made peace with my impending spinsterhood.
“I’m way too busy to think about dating,” I deflect. “Besides, the men here are basically Ken dolls. They’re all prettier than me.”
“Not without fillers,” she snorts, the lemon drop clearly hitting her.
We finally say goodbye, and I book an Uber home. Halfway there, my brother Nico calls. It’s nearly two in the morning, so I’m surprised to hear from him, but he keeps late hours too.
“Word on the street is, you’re the newest event guru in LA,” he says without a greeting.
I grin so hard it hurts.
“Who told you that?” I ask.
“I have a friend who works atLA Social. She’s already working on the writeup and wanted to know if Valentina Moretti is related to me.”
“Did you tell her that I’m your much more fabulous sister?”
“I told her I used to change your diapers,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes and look out the window as the city rolls past.
“Anyway, I figured I’d catch you while you’re up. You’re coming to family dinner tomorrow, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I sigh. When I moved out to LA, Nico insisted on a weekly family dinner to catch up now that I was closer. Mostly that means him watching me carefully, making sure I don’t have a mental breakdown. The dinners have gotten tedious, so I’ve made excuses the last few weeks to skip them.
“My boss is coming,” he says seriously. “You’re not allowed to say no.”
“Your boss is your best friend,” I remind him. “It’s not exactly a big deal that he’s coming.”
“It’s always a big deal when Sebastian chooses to come over. He’s busier than you are, but he actually makes time for me.”
The words are said in jest, but there’s a barb of truth in them. I’ve been taking Nico for granted, and I know it.
“Fine,” I finally say. “Count me in.”
Even as I say it, I’m already plotting a conveniently timed migraine to get out of it.
2
SEBASTIAN
Three separate problems land on my desk by eight in the morning, which is how I know the day is going to be a pain in the ass.
The first is a cash discrepancy at Bellissimo, one of our clubs in West Hollywood. The bar’s come up short three weeks running. Either our bartender is stealing from us, or people aren’t paying. One way or another, I need to figure out where the money’s going.
The second is a security incident outside the same club Saturday night that should have been minor, except one of the men involved has ties to a rival family. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near my club, let alone starting trouble there.
I lean back in my chair and listen as the manager, Darren, tries to explain why his club is giving me so much trouble. He shifts in his seat, visibly uncomfortable. Early forties, well dressed, and currently sweating through the collar of his impossibly expensive shirt. Beside him sits our hospitality accountant, Vince, who looks less nervous and more insulted that he’s having to explain himself at all.
My office sits on the top floor of one of our downtown buildings and is decked out with dark hardwood flooring, floor-to-ceiling glass, quiet art, and furniture chosen carefully enough to suggest taste without looking flashy. The textbook office for the CEO of a hospitality conglomerate.
