CHAPTER Eighteen
Erin
Hanging out in the Quadrilatero d’ Oro (Rectangle of Gold), the heart of Milan’s fashion district and trying on a shit load of clothes I don’t intend to buy, is just what I need. Plus, this venture with Selene gives me the chance to take a break from my horny “partner” who has enough stamina to supply a football team.
I’m reminded of the days Selene and I spent studying together at F.I.T. locations in New York City and Florence. It was a time when we were both fledgling students, two little country girls who came from two different cities situated near the swamplands of Louisiana, wondering if we’d ever fit into this design scene.
We drink coffee and talk love, sex, and yikes!—Marriage. Selene and another friend of ours from F.I.T. named Christopher have gotten engaged. And like so many others who graduated from the school’s study abroad program, the two have decided to stay here in Italy. They’re even renting a farmhouse in Umbria.
The diamond engagement ring she wears could blind you. It’s that sparkly. I can’t lie; I’m fighting a little of the green-eyed devil. But I’m not jealous of my friend’s happiness. It’s the courage she has, the ability to trust someone else in that way, knowing in the end he could easily rip her apart.
“Enough about my life. I’m sick of talking about me, even if you’re too polite to tell me to shut the hell up.” She pours about half the jar of creamer into her black coffee and adds six packs of sugar.
“Whoa! Somebody’s going to be off-the-charts hyper later on,” I tease.
She glances over the rims of her red glasses. “If you were living with my fiancée, then you’d need to be over-the-top energetic too.”
“No thanks. I have enough testosterone coming my way, I think,” I say, recalling how Alek has made me late to work the past couple of mornings since we returned from the valley in the mountains.
She stops stirring her coffee and removes her glasses. “Wait a freakin’ minute. Did you actually hint at a man being in your life? I might need to clean my ears.”
Blush heats my face. “Yes, I did. I’ve never been a nun, Selene.”
A smile spreads across her recently plumped up lips. She has this obsession with trying to look like Angelina Jolie. She even had a mole tattooed over her right eyebrow a few months ago. “Is it that maestro? The sexy one who drives the Aston Martin. Oh, and I almost forgot. His family owns half of Bellaggio?”
“You’re being dramatic,” I answer.
“Am I? In the five years I’ve known you, there’s never been a consistent guy who could shake the memory of that little British boy you gave it up to,” she reminds me.
Right away, my mood darkens. “Thanks a lot for reminding me.”
“Oh honey, I didn’t mean any harm by that. Don’t mind me. I’m just happy for you.” Moving her hands over to cup mine, she stares deeply in my eyes. “I know Jada would be happy, too. I bet she’s up there with the angels, keeping them entertained with her violin. That’s how happy she is for you.”
“For the first time in like forever, I believe I…well, maybe you’re right,” I manage to say.
“I know I’m right. Now smile, because we’re about to talk sex,” she says as she releases my hands and returns her glasses back to her face. “So is Alek an ass guy?”
I choke on my strawberries and cream frappucino. “Selene, that’s none of your business. And I don’t even know what you’re talking about? Geez.” I do know, but I am not getting ready to go into the details of the things Alek and I did this past weekend.
“What’s there not to know? Did you have wild sex? Missionary sex? Curious minds want to know what it’s like to make out with a barrel of hotness like Alek Dostov.” She motions for the waiter to get her another cup of coffee.
“Um, I don’t even think you need more caffeine,” I say.
She shrugs and gives me a wide grin. “You’re avoiding the topic. Get with it, girlie, we live in Europe. You should be comfortable with these conversations by now.”
“We did a lot of creative things, okay? Happy?” I ask, glancing around. Selene doesn’t look satisfied, but she lets it slide for the moment.
“Do I get any more details?”
“Hell no! You don’t blab about the sex you have with Christopher,” I remind her. Sitting back, she crosses her arms and gives me a smug face.
“What?” I say.
“I don’t believe it.”
“What don’t you believe now?” I ask, even though I already have an idea of what her answer will be.
“Erin Angelo, the girl who made us all think she’d never get married has actually fallen for someone.”
I scoff and glance around, shaking my head. “You’re so dramatic. I haven’t fallen for anybody.”
“Did he kiss you on the mouth? I remember you always had this thing about that, although I never understood what your big deal with being kissed was all about. So did he?” she urges, her smile growing wider.
“Maybe so. Okay? Now, can you please be quiet so I can finish my drink in peace?”
“I hear the sound of double wedding bells,” she teases. I roll my eyes playfully, but still manage to steer the conversation back around to work issues.
Selene’s right though. The big deal about me getting kissed involves a promise I made to myself, one where I said that I’d never give love power over me ever again. It was part of my vendetta against life for taking so many important things away from me.
Because of one fateful meeting, and a contract from one sexy maestro with abs and a tapered waistline to die for, I’ve betrayed everything I held to for all these years.
And I don’t even think I miss the old Erin.
* * *
When I walk through Black Butterfly’s doorway, I can feel the tension drifting in the air. I greet our two interns, trying to ignore their grim faces as I head toward Luca’s office. I find him in the back, sitting at his desk—something he rarely ever does. A stack of invoices and letters are scattered everywhere. Reading the bills is yet another one of those things Luca doesn’t bother with doing. Usually Rafe or Carla handles that aspect, while I supervise the fabric and design deliveries.
“Wow! Look at that face,” I say, hoping to lighten the mood in his office. I set my bag down on the chair across from his desk and fold my arms across my chest.
Luca raises his hands over his head, cupping it in back, and then slumps in his chair. He passes a worried look at me. Now, I know I’m about to hear some bad news.
“Tell me your purse is filled with grappa, and I will love you forever,” he says. Grappa is super strong, knock-you-flat-on-the-ass liquor.
“Uh-oh. The last time you asked me for something that strong was when Giovanni came out with the announcement about his sex issues,” I remind him.
“Do you mean to say his homosexuality? Just say it, Erin. We live in a new era. No one will put you under the guillotine if you take a risk every so often,” he scolds. Getting chewed out by Luca isn’t normal…at all.
I scoot my handbag over and plop down in the red chair across from him. “Spill all of it. What’s going on?”
Shaking his head, he says, “I see no reason to stall. We’re getting kicked out, Erin. If Mystical doesn’t fly, then the new owner of this building could possible take everything Rafe, me, and even you have worked to create.”
Holy Hell! I wish I would’ve brought some grappa with me. I let out a long sigh and let Luca’s words sink in. “Who would do something like that? And why?”
“Rafe tells me nothing. He doesn’t even know the identity of this new mysterious moneybags.”
“How can he not know?”
“This is Italy, sweet girl. We don’t sit down for hours in meetings to discuss how to smash your competitor’s business. The gamer with the most money lays his bag on the table. The heaviest sack wins. It’s that simple,” he explains.
“I don’t accept this. What does Mystical have to do with anything?” I ask, feeling nauseous.
“You’re hot, Erin. Bids for the line are coming in. All we need to do is pool enough interest to generate interest from sponsors.”
“And Alek’s show is the way to do that?”
“I have no doubt you can do this thing,” he confirms.
I suck my teeth. “Well don’t worry about adding too much more pressure on me, boss.”
“You can handle it. That much, I am certain. Any woman brave enough to go out on a fling with Alek Dostov, has my vote in the hottest female contest any day.”
My face fires up, but the impact of his news sticks with me. He glances at his watch. “I have a breakfast thing to attend to this morning,” he announces.
“Breakfast thing? You mean, as in a date?”
“Maybe,” he answers while smiling. I feel better now that I see him lightening up a bit.
“Would that be with a certain little Russian ballerina?” I ask, teasing him.
He gives me a look to make me believe he’s about to have a heart attack. Grasping his chest, he says, “Do not tell her brother. I value my life.”
I grin, feeling better when I see Luca do the same thing. “No, he won’t hurt you. I kind of think he already knows.”
Luca scratches at his head and does a roundabout in the floor. “Sweet Mother of Jesus, I’m dead. Not only will I lose my shop, but now I will lose my legs as well.”
I stand up and embrace him. He seriously needs a hug. His body tenses before he rears back and looks at me, frowning. “What? Can’t I make my boss feel better by giving him a hug?”
A smile spreads across his lips. “This brother of my Juliette’s, he’s good for you, I think. In the past, you would never have been so bold.” He makes a good point, and he’s right.
“All the more reason for you to believe me when I tell you Alek is harmless,” I assure him. It’s his mother that I suspect is the viper in the bunch.
* * *
At dinner, I fill Alek in on what Luca told me. I don’t say a thing about my suspicions regarding Katerina. I could be wrong, and I won’t risk everything Alek and I have worked toward by bad mouthing his mother.
“I’ll look into this,” he announces.
“No, you won’t. I don’t need you fighting my battles. I don’t want to become the girl who’s always acting weak because it’s convenient.” Okay. I don’t really think my words came out the right way.
He turns his lips up in the upside down, quarter moon position that both frightens and turns me on at the same time. “What happened to you, Erin? You keep me close, but you’re still so far away.”
“Life happened, Alek. A lot of bad, hard ass, shit. Excuse my language,” I add.
“Tell me about it. What happened to your father? Your sister? Why do you never talk about your mother? Hell, I’ve never even heard you talk about visiting her.” His eyes plead with me; but he’s asking for things I’ve never given anyone before, emotional things. “Let me in. Please.”
I want to let you in, but I’m scared. Can’t you tell?
Instead of opening up and being honest with him, I do what I’ve always done when someone gets too close. I turn the situation around on the other person. “You don’t tell me everything.”
He scoffs a light laugh. “What would you like to know?”
“For starters, I’d like to know the real reason Adriana chose to come crash at my place. And then, you can tell me why you’re always checking out our surroundings when we go out this way. I can’t believe, you think I haven’t noticed? And I‘d love to know why Katerina, an American woman who uses a Russian name, lives in a completely different country from her estranged husband. Should I go on?”
“I think you’ve made your point.” He inhales deeply. My assault affects him more than I thought it would.
He takes a large gulp of his White Russian. “My father isn’t a very kind man, Erin. He did something long ago that changed our relationship, for the worst. My mother and father have been separated for years. She pisses a tough-as-nails businesswoman act. But deep down inside she’s just as fragile and frightened as you are. The two of you are more alike than you think.”
I’m the one who scoffs this time. “There’s no one alive who is like your mother.”
“Now, it’s my turn,” he says. “Tell me the complete story behind this.” He fingers the butterfly necklace I’ve worn ever since we returned from our mountain getaway. I avert my eyes right away. I’m not ready to expose the part of me that belongs to the memory of my sister.
“Don’t keep shutting me out, Erin. I just opened up and told you things about my parents. Being open and honest this way is hard for me too.”
His eyes ask for so much. If I were to really let go, then I’m sure they’d pull everything from inside me. “If this is all about sex, then why do we need to have this conversation?”
Alek lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. Kill me for saying this, but I was thinking we were moving beyond the dog chasing the p-ssy cat game.” Several heads in the café turn in our direction, but Alek doesn’t flinch a bit.
I lean toward him. “That’s what me, the female, is supposed to say.” I’m trying to lighten the moment. I don’t think it’s working.
“Her name. Can you at least tell me your sister’s name?” he asks.
What harm is there in telling him her name?
“Jada. She was my best friend.” I lower my eyes.
Damn the stupid tears that just won’t go away. Alek reaches across the table, taking my small hands in between his large ones. His shoulders slump and he keeps blinking, a lot. I’m touched by his emotional response to what I said.
He calls over a waiter, pays the check, and then we leave the restaurant. I insist we head over to his condo, because I figure that Adriana and Luca are more than likely crashing at my apartment. And I don’t want my boss to have a heart attack when he sees Alek standing over him while he’s screwing around with his sister.
We go to Alek’s apartment this time. The sex we have is tender, less rushed, more exploratory. It’s the kind of intimacy that two people experience when they’re moving beyond the physical aspects of each other. Alek is right. This thing we’re doing, this partnership as Alek calls it, is no longer about an arrangement between two horny people.
This has become the crutch for a two people that are emotionally crippled and terrified of commitment. And to my slight distress, it has quickly become the one thing I feared the most—the loss of control over my emotions as I allow another person to enter my heart.