I’d never been big on social media. My parents didn’t let us girls get on Myspace or Facebook when we were younger, and now that I was on my own, it had never felt all that necessary. Outside of Giada, I didn’t have a ton of friends, which was fine with me. I had two sisters and three female cousins—that was plenty of girl drama in my life.
“Hey cuz, what’s going on? Hope you didn’t have to wait long. I got here as quickly as I could.” Giada plopped down in the seat across from me, impeccably dressed, as always, long auburn hair falling in thick waves down her back.
“Hey G! Not long at all. Sorry to spring the time change on you.”
“Not a problem. I hope everything’s okay.”
“Yes and no. Let’s grab our sandwiches, and I’ll tell you about it over lunch.”
“Please tell me it’s not your dickhead of a boss again.”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed her hand. “Food first, then talk.”
We ordered and took our food back to the table as the deli slowly began to fill with people on their lunch hour. I quietly relayed the events of the morning, attempting to keep the conversation just between us in a restaurant the size of a shoebox.
Giada was fuming by the time I finished. She was the only person I had told about my lascivious boss and knew about each of his disgusting antics. “Al, I know you want to be respected at work, but you can’t let that man keep doing this shit.”
“I know. I realize it’s not going to stop if I don’t do something about it. You know how hard I’ve worked to make a name for myself at Triton. Even then, there are still people who whisper that I’ve gotten where I am because I’m the boss’s daughter. I wanted to handle the situation on my own and not have to raise a stink, but I’m out of options.”
“You don’t have to raise a stink, just tell your dad. He’ll fire that guy’s ass in a heartbeat—no one has to know why.” In theory, her suggestion seemed like the easy answer; however, life was rarely so simple.
“You remember in high school when Mindy Jenkins kept trying to fight me and bullied me every chance she could get?”
“That bitch made your life hell—of course, I remember!”
“Then you should remember that not long after it started, I tried to get my dad to help me. There was a planning meeting after school for an upcoming dance, and I tried to avoid going so I could stay away from Mindy. Not only did my dad refuse to help, he insisted I go to the meeting. He told me there were always going to be hard situations in life, and if he went around fixing things for me, I’d never learn how to handle them on my own. I know he’d want me to deal with Roger myself, so that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Clearly, not effectively, but I was trying. Plus, if I run to daddy for help, everyone in the office will see me as a spoiled kid.”
“What does it matter what those people think?”
“It matters because they’ll never respect me if they think I didn’t earn my job.”
“They don’t have to respect you.” Her bright red lips lift in a smirk. “They just have to work for you.”
“Says the woman who’s never worked a day in her life,” I smiled back teasingly, knowing the comment wouldn’t bother her in the slightest.
“You should be so lucky … oh, wait—you are! You have plenty of money; you don’t need to deal with this bullshit.”
“What am I supposed to do, go shopping and host parties all my life? I’m not my mother, that’s not enough for me.”
“Too bad,” she mused. “I’ll have to find someone else to accompany me on my shopping runs and spa treatments.”
“Whatever. That’s not you either, and you know it.” I narrowed my eyes and tossed one of my chips at her.
She laughed, her vibrant green eyes shining. “I know no such thing. What I do know is if you don’t do something about that boss of yours, I’m going to come up there and raise holy hell. Got it?”
“I get it,” I smiled at my best friend. “And I promise I’ll file a complaint with HR. In the meantime, he’s gone for the rest of the week!”
“Nice! Maybe we need to take a long lunch break and hit Saks later this week.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“So, is that a yes?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Yes, I think that could be arranged.”
“Boom! Now, get your ass back to work and file that damn complaint,” she ordered with every ounce of moxie in her five-foot frame.
“Yes, sir, Colonel, sir.” I saluted her as I stood, then hugged my amazing friend. Not every girl was lucky enough to have a Giada in their life. I thanked my lucky stars on a daily basis that I’d somehow managed to score the best cousin ever.
I walked back into work feeling optimistic and empowered. I would file the dreaded HR complaint and finally get Roger out of my life. There would be interviews and an inter-office investigation, but it would be worth it in the long run. Inappropriate comments were one thing, openly assaulting me was an entirely different can of worms. Not to say the comments were acceptable, but they hadn’t seemed nearly as threatening when his attempts were purely verbal.
When I rounded the corner toward our offices, my eyes found Roger’s assistant, Beverly. She was a middle-aged woman who was pleasant enough, but I’d never spent all that much time talking to her. Roger preferred to work directly with me, of course, and Beverly mostly kept to herself. She peered up at me from her desk and gave me a tight smile that was laden with pity.
She knew.
It was there, etched in each of her features, leaving no room for question. She had called into the office as a distraction, knowing exactly what Roger had been doing.
A blur of emotions turned the lunch in my stomach into a heavy lump—gratitude to the older woman for helping me and excruciating embarrassment. We both knew I wasn’t to blame, but that didn’t stop the waves of shame from bringing a heated glow to my skin as I scurried into my office.
2
Alessia
By the time I made it home that night, I was exhausted. I never got around to filing the complaint but swore I’d do it by the end of the week. The emotional toll of dealing with the incident itself had been enough for one day. I’d save the drama of dealing with HR for another day.
After changing into something comfy, I warmed up one of the dinners delivered by the meal service I used and poured myself a glass of wine. Deciding to take advantage of the beautiful May evening, I opened a couple windows and sat at the kitchen table.
My apartment was my sanctuary. What Giada had said about money had been true—my family had always been wealthy. I was exceptionally fortunate to be able to afford a beautiful two-bedroom place in downtown Manhattan straight out of college. The living area and bedroom boasted floor-to-ceiling windows, and even the backsplash in the kitchen was a series of horizontal windows looking out onto the city. I had accentuated the light, airy feel of the space with cream-colored fabrics and a glass-top dining table. Paintings and throw-pillows offered bursts of color and added a homey feel to the contemporary design.
Unlike most twenty-three-year-olds in the city, I wasn’t forced to live with a roommate—the apartment was all mine, and I loved it. I didn’t have to worry about someone eating my food or bringing home uninvited guests. It was my space to unwind and allow the stress from the day to fall from my shoulders like an unwanted scarf.
The atmosphere was perfect, assuming there were no interruptions or disturbances, such as my mother calling. I should have expected her call—she’d been in constant contact about my youngest sister, Sofia’s, upcoming graduation party. I’d had dinner with my parents just the day before, but we hadn’t discussed the party. My father had already declared himself fed up with the discussions and forbade the topic at our weekly Sunday dinners.
It would never have been an issue if Mom had settled for a small affair, but that wasn’t her style. She was throwing a graduation gala and planned to invite a few hundred of
her closest friends. I was certain Sofia would have preferred no party at all, but she had humored our mother and allowed the production. We were closing in on the final weeks, so my mom’s calls had been coming more and more frequently.
“Hey, Mom. How’s it going?” I said brightly into my phone.
“You are not going to believe this,” came her coarse voice. She had been a smoker for many years when she was younger, and though she had quit, she still bore the scratchy voice of a smoker.
“What happened? The caterer running low on pâté?” I teased.
“If only! Vica decided she’s bringing a man. Can you believe that? I’d already made all the table assignments, and now she’s gone and screwed it all up.”
Maria Ludovica Francesca Elena Genovese, Vica for short, was my father’s younger sister. She was an Italian wild-child who gave her two big brothers, and their wives, constant grief. She’d been married three times already but had refrained from having children—a small blessing, according to my mother. Apparently, Vica had met someone new and wanted to bring him to the party.
“The graduation is still three weeks out; there’s plenty of time to rearrange things,” I reminded her, hoping she would realize how absurd she sounded.
“I don’t suppose you’ve decided to bring anyone,” my mother prodded questioningly. “It would keep things even, that’s all.”
Of course, I should have known.
“Yeah, Mom. Your question has nothing to do with you wanting me to get married and make babies.”
“Of course not!” She paused, and I knew what was coming. “Not that it would be such a bad thing.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get right on it,” I muttered.
“You do that, and make sure he’s Catholic—that makes everything easier.”
“Alright, Ma. I’m in the middle of eating dinner, so I’ll let you go.” She hated the use of the term ‘ma,’ but I threw it in there just to rib her. Every other New Yorker used the term, but not our family. My mother had always said it sounded like a dying sheep and demanded we girls called her Mom or Mother.
“I heard that.”
“I’m sure you did. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, baby girl.”
I hung up and sighed aloud. Every bit of tension I’d eased out of my shoulders had snuck back in and begun to pulse in my temples. My parents loved me unconditionally—I knew that. That knowledge should have been enough, but somehow, it wasn’t. I wanted them to respect me and be proud of me. Maybe they would say that was the case, but I always felt a dollar short—like who I was and what I did was never quite enough.
When my mom would sneak in a reminder while I was in college that I could always find a man and quit school, it made me feel like she didn’t believe in me. I was sure she simply wanted me to know I had options and didn’t want me to feel pressured to be a working woman, but that’s not how it felt. The same went for my dad. When I first brought them to my apartment after I’d bought it, he suggested I could buy the unit next door and combine the two to give myself more room. Instead of simply congratulating me, there was always a suggestion on how things could have been done differently.
It was my own fault I continued to seek out their praise, but I didn’t know how to break the cycle. I had always been the parent pleaser; I didn’t know how to be anyone different. That was the part of my personality that made dealing with my boss even more difficult. Confrontation was not my strong suit, but I was going to have to start learning.
I wore one of my more revealing work dresses the next morning. I normally didn’t risk wearing it, but Roger would be out of the office, so I was free to dress as I pleased without fear of harassment. The designer dress was a rich shade of crimson, perfectly accenting my dark features. The boat-neck top and knee-length hemline were not an issue—it was the low-cut back that would have been a problem. The dress wasn’t excessively provocative for work, but with Chester the Molester for a boss, wearing it wasn’t normally an option.
I wore my dark hair pinned up to highlight the low back and picked out the perfect black-patent, red-soled stilettos to match. The dress clung to my curves without being painted-on and made me feel amazing. Hopefully, one day soon, I’d be able to wear what I wanted to work, rather than what was the least eye-catching.
I could feel the weight of people’s eyes on me as I entered the lobby, and it felt great to show off the figure I worked hard to maintain. I took extra care not to let my heels get stuck on the escalator and walked to the elevators. Just as I approached, the doors on the nearest car began to close.
“Oh! Wait!” I thrust my hand between the doors and scurried inside as soon as they reopened. When I turned to press the button for the tenth floor, I froze.
It was him—the stunning man from the lobby the day before.
He was even more striking up close. The eyes I’d been too far away to see were so dark, they were almost black, and they were boring into me as I openly gawked at him.
How could I not?
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
He wore a dark grey suit, similar to what he’d worn the day before, and still had a dusting of hair along his strong jawline. Towering over me, despite my four-inch heels, he owned every square inch of the small elevator car. While he was only a few years older than me, he had the powerful presence of a much older man.
When the doors closed behind me, they jarred me from my trance, reminding me I’d been unabashedly devouring him with my eyes. My lungs released a whoosh of air, and my heart began to jackhammer in my throat as I turned and pushed the button for the tenth floor. Stepping over to the wall opposite him, I kept my eyes cast down to the floor and his shiny black dress shoes. As if my hormones weren’t already running amok, the scent of his musky cologne wrapped itself around me, making me hungry for something far more delectable than any food.
What the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a cat in heat!
The poor man had probably felt violated I’d perved on him for so long. My eyes darted around with embarrassment, looking anywhere but at the gorgeous man directly across from me until I realized I could feel the penetrating touch of his eyes. I didn’t have to look up to know he was staring at me, daring me to meet his gaze. Unable to ignore his unspoken command, I lifted my eyes and peered at him through my lashes.
When my gaze reached his face, one corner of his lips quirked up just a fraction. Had I not been so keenly aware of the man, I would have missed the fleeting movement. Leaning back against the wall, hands clasped casually in front of him, he was perfectly at ease, amused by my flustered reaction if his smirk had been any indication.
I, on the other hand, was coming apart under his scrutiny.
Why was I so affected by a man I’d never even met? He was nobody to me. What did I care what he thought of me? There were loads of attractive men in the city, but this one was different. His commanding stare stripped my defenses and left me raw and vulnerable.
People display a persona when they meet someone new for the first time—some might call it putting their best foot forward. The woman I would normally call forth to impress a new acquaintance evaporated into a thin veil of smoke under his heavy gaze. All that was left was the real me, stunned and uncertain what to do when her protective shell had been obliterated.
Just as I thought I would blurt something to fill the uncomfortable silence, the elevator jarred to a stop, and the lights flickered. My hand darted out to catch myself against the wall, and I gasped in surprise. The man, on the other hand, needed no such balance assistance. Aside from a glance around the elevator car, he was seemingly unfazed.
Of course, he was.
Why should the laws of physics affect someone so clearly not of this world?
“Looks like we’re stuck,” I murmured after it became clear the doors were not opening, nor were we resuming motion. “I suppose we should call for help.” I glanced down at the phone labeled f
or emergency use on my side of the elevator, and when I looked back up, the man’s piercing gaze was still fixed on me.
He pulled away from the wall and closed the space between us, making my breath catch in my throat. Leaning across me, just inches from touching me, he opened the call box and retrieved the phone. I released a shaky exhale and took a small step back to give him room and to collect myself.
“Yes, my companion and I are stuck in one of the elevators in the Triton building … No emergencies, just stuck … Thank you.” He hung up the receiver and turned to where I now stood in the back corner, having inched away from him as he spoke. “They’ve sent someone to check on the situation, but there’s no telling how long it will be.” His deep voice resonated throughout the small space, each syllable oozing control. The sound was the perfect complement to his unflappable demeanor.
My heart pounded so fast, I became lightheaded. I’d been around assertive men all my life, but this man’s presence filled up the small space so completely, there was no oxygen left to breathe. My eyes flitted to his, and I offered him a glimpse of a smile. “It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck in an elevator. Live in the city long enough, and you come to expect these things.” Relief coursed through my veins when I managed to utter something semi-intelligible.
“You work in the building?” Leaning his shoulder against the side wall, he continued to focus all his attention on me, not returning to his side of the elevator.
“Yes, I work at Triton. You?”
“No, I’m just here on business.” He stared at me for a long moment. It felt as though he was measuring my worth, as if he could see deep inside of me and was perusing my most personal thoughts. The tension in the small space was more than palpable—it was a physical force pressing against my skin.
Finally, he broke the silence. “Luca,” he rumbled as he extended his hand.
He was introducing himself. He easily could have retreated to his side of the car and ignored my existence until help came for us, but he hadn’t. He was striking up a conversation. Was he interested in me or simply entertaining himself to make use of the time?
Forever Lies (The Five Families Book 1) Page 2