Love Me Like You Do (Love Me, I'm Famous Book 6)

by M. H. Soars

  “You’ll be waiting a long time.” Max pauses and stares intently at me. His scrutinizing gaze unnerves me, and I have an inkling to what he’s thinking. “So, how are you holding on, cuz?”

  Pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, I frown, signaling with a wave of my hand for him to fill my glass again. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  I scowl at Max, right before I bring the once again full glass of Prosecco to my lips. I’m glad the alcohol is already helping me relax. Today is going to be murder, just as expected.

  “Listen, he doesn’t deserve you.”

  “I don’t know what you’re taking about.” I turn my back to Max, pretending to observe the wedding’s preparations. Irritation simmers just below my skin. Why does Max have to be such a busybody?

  “You don’t need to pretend with me, Chibi. I’m not blind. Pietro had all the chances in the world, and he chose Paola over you. He’s not your guy. He has never been your guy. You’re amazing, and he’s second-rate.”

  Max’s words make something clench in my chest and tears prickle my eyes. I want to believe his words, but today it’s almost impossible. If I’m all that, then how come Pietro is marrying Paola? Fuck. What’s up with Max and this sensitive bullshit conversation?

  “I know I’m amazing, okay?” I reply feebly.

  I’m so full of shit. My only consolation in this whole mess is that Max is the only one in my family who paid enough attention to see my true feelings toward Pietro. Everyone else, including Paola, seem oblivious.

  “I’ve told you before, I’d tap you if you weren’t my cousin.”

  Whipping my face in his direction, I glare at him. “Eww. Why do you have to be so gross?”

  “Chiara? Is that you?”

  “Cazzo! It’s Mother.” I scramble to finish my drink before striding toward her. It’s best if she doesn’t interact with Max. He loves to antagonize her. But then, I’m the one who has to deal with the woman.

  My face is probably flushed when I stop in front of Ofelia Moretti, a former Miss Italia who still retains her pageant-days poise and beauty. Her perfectly arched eyebrows would furrow if her forehead wasn’t frozen by Botox, but the pinch of her lips and the displeasure in her gaze is enough of a hint that I’m about to receive some negative comment. With a tsking sound, she grabs a strand of my hair. “You look ghastly. Instead of drinking with Max, you should have done something about your appearance.”

  I take a step back to get out of her reach. “What’s wrong with my appearance?”

  “The question is what’s not wrong with it? The hairdresser has already finished with your cousin. Maybe he can do something about your hair. As for your attire…” My mother’s gaze drops to take in the length of my body. “Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it.”

  I want to tell my mother to go fuck herself. The insult obviously dies in my throat. She wouldn’t hesitate to slap me across the face in front of all these people. She’s done it before. There’s nothing wrong with my fifties inspired, strapless dress. Sure, the tight bodice emphasizes my girls more than my mother deems appropriate, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Does she want me to bind my breasts so I look like flat-chested Paola? Probably. I could tell her I’m wearing vintage Christian Dior, one of her favorite designers, but what good it would do? She would probably say I make everything look trashy.

  Mom makes a grab for my arm, but I sidestep her. “I have to use the restroom. I’ll meet you inside.”

  I run back into the house as fast as my high-heeled sandals will allow, veering toward the stairs. Once I reach the landing, I hear animated female voices coming from the master suite. I skid to a halt. The Prosecco I’d just downed burns in my belly while hurtful memories assault me. Among other awful things, my cousin is a bully. Together with her friends, she tormented me through middle school. She’s a couple of years older than me, but instead of bringing me into the fold when I joined the snobbish private school, she took pleasure in making my life a living hell. If Max hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I would have survived. Things only changed when I grew older and boys started to take notice of me. Suddenly, Paola wanted to be my best friend and I was naïve enough to believe her bullshit.

  Pietro, her fiancé, was my first friend there and the object of my affection for years. He was an awkward teen during high school, super tall and gawky, a little nerdy too. He didn’t turn hot until we were in business school together at Bocconi University. That’s when Paola made her move and my crush died a sudden and painful death.

  Perhaps Max is right and I should have told Pietro how I felt sooner, but I was terrified of losing his friendship then and never confessed. Fat good that did me. I lost his friendship anyway when he started dating my cousin. In fact, this is the first time I’ll see him in six months. But the good old saying “out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t apply to me if the constant pain in my chest is any indication. Ugh, why am I still so hung up on him? I’m twenty-two and still crushing on him like I’m teenager.

  Forcing my feet to move, I veer in the opposite direction of Paola and her phony friends, locking myself in the restroom down the corridor. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, holding a strand of my blonde hair between my fingers. I’m not ugly, but compared to Paola—who’s tall, thin as a model, and gorgeous—I’m plain and there’s no way to hide my curves. No wonder Pietro picked her over me, but damn it, Paola isn’t even nice unless she’s faking it for him. I should have been braver and confessed I liked him before Paola was ever in the picture.

  Get a grip of yourself, Chiara. Despite all her flaws, Pietro still picked her over you. It’s time to move on.

  I apply a fresh coat of makeup and try to redo my curls using my fingers. No way in hell I’m going to let Paola’s hairdresser touch my hair. Running a hand down the length of my dress, I attempt to smooth out the barely visible wrinkles, thinking about my mother’s comment. The dress is perfect and completely appropriate for a summer wedding. I don’t know why I’m surprised she disliked it. My mother has criticized everything I wore since I was old enough to pick my own clothes. My shoulders sag forward as I let out a heavy sigh. It’s just one day, Chiara. You can do this. I straighten my back and raise my chin, ready to face the music, when the door bursts open.

  I let out a yelp as Pietro stares at me wide-eyed. “Oh, so sorry, Chiara. I didn’t know you were in here.”

  My heart begins to beat furiously inside my chest. Why does the man have to look ten thousand times more appealing in his wedding day tuxedo? His curls have been tamed with some gel, and his eternal five o’clock shadow is nowhere in sight.

  “That’s okay. I was just freshening up my makeup. I’m all done.”

  He gives me an elevator glance, his gaze dropping to my shoes to slowly travel back up the length of my body. “You look stunning, Chiara.”

  My heart does a backflip at his compliment. Traitorous muscle.

  “So do you.”

  “Did you bring a date?”

  “No. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

  Why am I telling him that?

  “It’s really hard to believe a gorgeous girl like you is single. I would have snatched you up in a heartbeat if I had the chance.”

  Uh, what? He did not just say that.

  “What are you taking about, Pietro?”

  He frowns, and it could be the Prosecco here, but I think I caught a glint of guilt in his gaze.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It must be the pre-wedding jitters.”

  Feeling bold and angry as well, I take a couple of steps closer. “Pietro, were you ever attracted to me?”

  “Come on, Chiara. Let’s forget I said anything okay?”

  “No, you can’t take those words back.”

  His thick eyebrows furrow, and his lips turn into a thin, flat line. It’s his trademark expression when he’s feeling corn
ered. Shit, I can’t believe this is happening, but I can’t back down now. I have to know.

  “Answer me, Pietro!” I raise my voice, not caring if we’re overheard.

  “All right. I had a huge crush on you when we were in high school. God, I thought you knew.”

  My stomach bottoms out. I feel like I’ve been sucker punched. With wobbly steps, I reach for the granite top of the sink, fighting to get air into my lungs.

  “Shit, Chiara. I swore to myself I would never say anything to you. It doesn’t matter anyway. I eventually moved on. Then Paola came along, and well, the rest is history.”

  I can barely hear what he’s saying over the loud sound of my pulse hammering in my ears.

  “I-I can’t be here.”

  Pushing him out of my way, I run out of the bathroom as if the devil is after me, rushing down the stairs two steps at a time. It’s a miracle I don’t twist an ankle. I veer toward the front door, ready to bolt and skip this fucking wedding. No way in hell I’ll be able to stand aside and watch my hateful cousin marry the man of my dreams. Knowing it could have been me in her place if Pietro and I hadn’t been such cowards throughout high school and college makes it a thousand times, no, a billion times worse.

  I bump into Grandpa outside, struggling with his cane as he tries to get into the sporty convertible I know doesn’t belong to him.

  “Where are you going, Nonno?” I ask.

  “Your useless father forgot to bring the cigars. I’m going into town to get them.”

  “No, you’re not, Dad.” My mother’s voice rings out right behind me, making my skin crawl. I don’t want to deal with her on top of everything else.

  “We can’t have a wedding without cigars.”

  “You just took your medication, and you know how woozy it makes you. You’ll get into a car wreck.”

  Grandpa, being the proud man that he is, glares at his daughter, who does the same in return. Stuck in the middle, I see that as the perfect opportunity to get out of here.

  “I’ll get the cigars for you, Nonno.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll send someone from the catering company. You’re needed inside, Chiara.”

  With a quick glance in her direction, I see that if I don’t go now, she’ll drag me back to the house by my hair if necessary. I search for my car and notice that it’s been moved and is now stuck between two catering company vans. Shit! Needing to make a hasty exit, I veer toward one of the villa’s Vespas because Grandpa is still halfway inside the little convertible.

  As usual, the key is already in the ignition. The engine turns on with a creaking noise, and before my mother can do anything to stop me, I take off.

  CHAPTER TWO - ALISTAIR

  I’m such a fucking moron. Slamming my palm against the side of the car, I look ahead at the deserted road. It stretches on for miles without a sign of life nearby. I can’t be that far from the winery. Glaring at the useless phone in my hand, I feel tempted to break it to pieces. Forgetting to charge the blasted thing last night was exactly what I needed on top of a flat tire. Now, I can either walk back to town or wait for someone to drive by and hope to score a ride.

  I should have checked if the rental car had a jack. What good is a spare tire if I can’t lift the damn car off the ground to change it? I rub my face and fight the urge to scream from the top of my lungs. This was supposed to be a stress-free trip, a reward to myself after all the bullshit I went through in the last six months.

  Coming to Tuscany had always been on my bucket list, but I never imagined I’d be here alone. Bitterness pools in my mouth. I’ve thought I’d bring my two-faced, soon-to-be ex-wife here. I always believed that when I married someone, that would be it. Now I’m thirty-five and getting a divorce. In hindsight, I’m glad I never had the chance to bring Nadine here. At least this gorgeous place won’t be tainted with memories of her.

  I arrived in Siena two days ago, and everything went well—I mean as well as things can go when you travel to a country where you don’t speak the language. Custom differences aside, the trip’s met all my expectations until today. I should have known nothing good could happen after I was dumb enough to check my e-mails this morning and became aware of the shitstorm that’s waiting for me back home.

  Not only did I receive an e-mail from my lawyer with Nadine’s new demands, but my boss also asked me to return to work. I’m supposed to be on a yearlong unpaid leave, but apparently, the replacement they hired bailed at the last minute. I can tell my boss no—it’s not like I need the measly salary the position pays. My decade-long stint in the entertainment industry was good for something at least. It gave me financial independence. But he’s a friend who helped me when I was in a very dark place, and I don’t want to leave him hanging.

  I’m not sure if I’m ready to go back to my old routine, though. Doing different things is what kept my head above water, what prevented me from going apeshit on the asshole Nadine was cheating on me with—my best friend. My hands curl into fists by my side. Now that the shock of discovery has worn off, I’m mostly angry at myself. How could I have been so blind?

  “This is hopeless.”

  I lock the car and veer toward town. Staying here and hoping for a miracle won’t cut it. I’m not looking forward to the long haul on foot, though. Two seconds after I make the decision, I hear the sound of a scooter approaching. The first thing I see come up the hill is a mop of blonde hair, flying widely in the wind. Then my gaze drops to the billowing skirt that reveals a pair of very nice legs. The driver slows down, stopping completely just a few steps away from me.

  “Ciao. Problemi di auto?” the young woman asks.

  I don’t speak Italian, but I can guess what she’s saying, so I nod. My tongue is stuck in my mouth. I lost the ability to speak because I’m too busy admiring the stranger. The only words that pop in my head to describe her are achingly beautiful. Shit. I must be losing my mind. I’m too old to be having such visceral reactions to attractive women.

  She continues in Italian, and I soon become lost. I only know the basic words to get around. “Sorry, no parlo italiano.”

  “Ah, you’re American. Let me guess, the rental company forgot to add the jack?”

  “Yes. Is that a normal occurrence here?”

  “I don’t know. It was just a guess. You have the spare out, but you weren’t changing the tire. I doubt the reason is lack of knowledge or physical ability.”

  I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at her as the corners of my lips twitch upward. God, when was the last time I felt such easy amusement? I cross my arms in front of my chest and say, “How do you know I’m not an overly pampered ass without any hand skills?”

  Her blue gaze makes a quick scan of my six-foot-three frame before she smirks. “I seriously doubt that’s the case. Where were you headed? Maybe I can give you a lift?”

  My heart kicks up a notch, and I feel like a fucking teenager suffering from my first major crush. This is absolutely insane. Despite my body’s reaction, I frown at her. Hasn’t anyone taught her how unwise it is to offer rides to strangers, especially pretty girls like her?

  But I’m not an idiot. I’ll take the lift. “Winery Della Vecchia,” I say.

  Her delicate eyebrows arch as her plump, cherry-colored lips make a little O shape. I’m hit with a sudden urge to kiss the hell out of her, and in the same breath, I beat myself for having such inappropriate thoughts. I’m not a caveman.

  “Oh, they aren’t open today,” she says.

  “They don’t open on Saturdays?”

  “They usually do, but today they’re closed.” She pauses and seems to be deep in thought before she peers at me from under her thick eyelashes. “Do you feel like crashing a wedding party?”

  The sudden change of subject takes me by surprise. “What?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but if you were looking to taste some amazing wine, my cousin’s wedding is the place to be.”

  “I wasn’t going to the winery for wine tasting alone.”<
br />
  “Oh, you were hoping to talk with the Della Vecchias?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you should definitely come with me. They’ll be there.”

  Staring hard at the gorgeous woman in front of me, I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating her offer. I was hoping to chat with the Della Vecchias about the wine business, and a social event would be the perfect opportunity to introduce myself and pick their brains without being too obvious.

  She doesn’t cower from my intense gaze; instead, she stares right back at me with a glint of amusement in her eyes. Cocking her head, she smiles. “You’re not afraid of me, are you? I promise I’m not a psycho.”

  I chuckle, running a hand through my hair. “What if I’m the psycho? Have you ever paused to consider that?”

  Her bright smile turns into a smirk as she narrows her gaze. “Nah. You’re not a psycho. You look more like a cuddly bear.”

  I do something I haven’t done in a long time. I throw my head back and laugh loudly, as a feeling of euphoria spreads through my chest.

  “See, you’re already having fun, and we haven’t gotten there yet.”

  The laughter is gone, but the excitement is still coursing through my veins.

  “I don’t think I’m wearing appropriate clothes to attend a wedding.” I stare down at my jeans and tight polo shirt.

  “I can find you clothes. Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  The sassy smile that blossoms on her lips is what seals my fate.

  “What the hell. Why not?”

  BOOTY releases on January 12, 2018. You can pre-order now.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed the continuation of Liv and Sebastian’s story. If you did enjoy Love Me Like You Do, there are a number of ways you can help spread the word.