Page 59 of Captive Rival: Armani
Folding her hands on the table, she leans toward me and grins, looking like the cat who ate the canary. Little alarm bells start to go off in my head.
“You see, I’ve been involved in some…international business dealings. Which have been great for me because, frankly, the money is insane.”
“Excellent…” I say slowly. “And so your big news is…?”
“That I’m getting married, too!” she crows.
“Oh my God! That’s incredible!”
I squeeze both of her hands in mine, genuinely excited for her.
“Okay but let me show you the ring and then you’ll really be over the moon for me!” she says, digging in her purse for her phone. “It’s getting sized right now. It’s a four-carat Asscher cut with a halo of Muzo emeralds. You think yours sparkles? Just wait until you see mine. I designed it, of course.”
She passes me the phone and I scroll through the photos, agreeing with her about how gorgeous the ring is, but something about all of this is bothering me. Something just isn’t right. My soul screams it. Juliana barely ever keeps a guy around for longer than a week or two, and her official boyfriends have been few and far between because she basically eats them alive. Marriage? Juliana? No way.
“Wait, so…who exactly is this guy?” I ask, handing her phone back.
“Well, that part doesn’t really matter since it’s a green card thing,” she says, waving her hand nonchalantly. “But I’m still going to throw a huge, extravagant wedding for myself and youmusthelp!”
My mouth goes dry. “Wow, this is all just…wow. Have you at least met this person?”
Her expression falls. I’ve squashed her excitement, and much like Armani, if I say the wrong thing or react the wrong way, Juliana shuts right down.
“I’m not judging, I swear, I just want you to be happy,” I tell her quickly. “Okay? Seriously. Whether it’s a green card thing or not, it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s what you want. I’d love to help.”
Her smile returns.
“Itiswhat I want. He’s been working with me on some of the international deals, but his visa is expiring soon. So we decided getting married was a good move for our partnership. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, and he doesn’t have a business degree like me, but he’s smart. And he really knows how to handle people. We’ll be quite the power couple.
“Plus, we can get divorced in a few years and it won’t affect his application for citizenship.” She keeps rambling and I realize she’s trying to justify her actions to me. “And I mean yes, thisisfor the business. I won’t lie about that. It’s not a love match or anything, obviously, but what’s good for the business is good for me, right?”
Ah, so she’s nothing more than a pawn. Sounds familiar. I wouldn’t be surprised if this entire idea came from Uncle Sergio, or even one of the elder Bruno dons over in Italy.
Plastering a reassuring smile on my face, I take her hand. “I’m happy if you are. So, congratulations?”
“Yes! Yes, congratulations are in order! Waiter, more mimosas!”
Leaning over the table, we hug.
“So where is he from, anyway? Is this another Italian stallion?” I ask.
“Don’t freak out and no, he’s not Italian.”
Grabbing her phone off the table, she pulls up a photo of man with dark, tousled hair, an admittedly panty-melting jawline, and heavy brows. He’s not as refined as Armani, and he looks more like a bareknuckle boxer than a businessman, but he’s certainly attractive.
“Okay, I don’t feel bad for you anymore. He’s definitely hot,” I tell her teasingly.
“He’ssuper-hot. And loaded. Oh, and he has the best accent, seriously.”
“Does he?”
“Oh, yeah,” she says, nodding. “He’s Russian.”
21
CANDI
“What’s wrong?Candi? Hey. Say something.”
