Page 17 of Forbidden Bride (Forbidden 1)
He huffs a stunted laugh. “You’re a mess tonight. What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar. You’re in a mood. You going to do something with your hair?”
I grunt noncommittally. I’m sure as hell not telling him a thing about Karina. That would open a Pandora’s box that I’m in no way prepared to handle right now.
Moving to the mirror on the closet door, I comb my damp hair back with my fingers, knowing full well that it will dry in place with the curls doing whatever the hell they want anyway. “It’ll be dry by the time we get downstairs.”
“Let’s get a scotch and head down to the party.”
I follow him out and down to the first floor, where we toss back a scotch in the office. It doesn’t turn me into a new man, but it at least takes the edge off. Armani looks pensive as he pours us another round. Sometimes I wish I knew what he was thinking, but on the other hand I probably wouldn’t like what I found out.
“We need to keep our ears to the ground tonight,” he says. “Sergio Bruno is a boastful man and he’s been known to overshare while he’s talking up his many virtues. We need to be in position to catch any slip-ups.”
“Maybe we need to give him the opportunity to talk about himself first.”
He considers this. “Yeah. We probably do.”
“The plan for tonight then is keep my ears open and my mouth shut.”
He tosses back his drink. “Exactly. Ready?”
Not really. I don’t want to make small talk with the man out to get my family, nor do I want the Brunos poking around on Bellanti property. I’m as much of a hot head as my brothers are—maybe worse—and I sure as hell don’t tolerate bullshit. It’s going to be hard to keep myself in check tonight when I’m used to speaking my mind. In fact, if this whole event wasn’t centered around my racing career, my best bet would be to simply remove myself from the situation. Go to a bar or a club, stay as far away from the house as possible.
But I can’t do that. Instead, I have to play nice. Fuck.
“You know, I’d rather you just handle this whole Bruno thing as soon as possible and be done with it,” I suggest.
My brother raises a brow. “I don’t think you really want that. Too many bodies to hide. Too splashy. Too messy. I know how you feel about messes.”
“That’s my point,” I jab. “Keep me out of it.”
“Sorry, brother. It’s all hands on deck. Look, once the Bruno threat is neutralized, we’ll transfer everything to another family, wash our hands, and walk away. You can have your carefree playboy lifestyle back, and we’ll all pretend this never happened. For now, you just gotta roll with it. Be a team player. Yeah?”
Is this what he calls a pep talk? Are we in a fucking locker room? The irritation returns and my body tenses. Fuck this. Just then, I remember that I left my phone in my room.
“I’ll catch up with you. Have to grab my phone.”
Armani huffs with exasperation. “Fine. But if I don’t see your face in fifteen minutes, I will hunt you down.”
“Promises, promises,” I say, and then head back the way we came.
I lope up the stairs and turn down my wing to my room. The doors to my balcony are open when I go in. I’d been sitting out there earlier and forgotten to shut them. Hearing noises coming from outside, I grab my cellphone and wander to the balcony. Cars are rolling up the long gravel drive and coming to a stop at the valet area. Just knowing Sergio Bruno is probably in that line punches me with anger.
I’m going to have a hard time controlling myself around him.
A big black SUV parks by the valet. A man gets out and comes around to open the back door. I watch as a woman slides out and glances around uncertainly. My heart skips to my throat. I know that hair, that elegant posture, the lines of that body, her curves like a racetrack.
Her black dress glitters as she does a slow turn, clutching a small black purse between her hands. A smile plays at her lips as she takes in the winery’s finely landscaped grounds, clearly liking what she sees.
The feeling’s mutual.
My Karina.
Dressed in black, just like in my dream.
My mood lifts instantly, the need to race down to the party almost overwhelming me. Maybe the color of her outfit is an omen, but it’s one I can look past. Because I make my own fate. Armani can deal with the Brunos tonight.
I’m going to be busy with my Juliet.
