Page 19 of What's Left of Us

Sliding me a mug of the hot drink, she offers me a comforting smile. “I know those eyes. Tell me what the matter is.”

“Nobody said a thing about me being married off to a stranger,” I say, gripping the mug handle until there’s a bite of pain in my knuckles. “Don’t I get an opinion? It’s my life.”

Her smile only saddens. “You’re a Del Rossi, my dear. And your father cares very much about your future because he loves you.”

She must have known about this. What has she heard? I know she eavesdrops. I’ve seen her do it outside of my father’s study. “I know he cares. But what about me and the loveIwant?”

“What about it?”

Shoulders dropping, I shake my head. Maybe love is for fairy tales. Movies. Even the books I’d lock myself in my room to read. I haven’t witnessed it firsthand before, not in the same way I’ve read about or watched in film. I don’t think my father ever felt the same way after my mother passed away in a tragic car accident when I was four. Maybe selfishly, I’d always assumed he never felt the way for Leani as he did with the woman I get my looks from.

“I thought…” I loosen a sigh, letting go of the hot chocolate and dropping my hands into my lap. “I thought I would fall in love with the person I marry. Is that too much to ask for?”

Mrs. Ricci is quiet for a minute before patting my hand. “You can still fall in love with him, Georgia. Love takes time to grow, no matter who it’s with. It takes a strong and special woman to change a man. But I think you’re capable. And Luca is young too. There is always time for change.”

I glance down at my fingers, fiddling with the hem of my dress. “I’ve heard bad things about him. What if he doesn’t change for me?”

There’s a momentary pause that has me peeking up to see a pinched smile on her face. “I don’t have an answer for you, I’m afraid.”

What did I expect?

The kind older woman who’s been here for as long as I can remember squeezes my shoulder once. “You didn’t hear thisfrom me, but I happen to know your parents have dinner plans with the Coopermans tonight.”

My brows pinch at the information I hadn’t known. Howard Cooperman and his family founded New York City’s most prestigious law firm. My father is always doing business with them now that The Del Rossi Group has grown outside of the metropolitan area of New York. I usually get told to wear something classy whenever we’re having dinner with them because it’s typically at a ritzy steakhouse where the side salad alone is a hundred dollars.

“Alone,” she adds with a small smile teasing the edges of her mouth. “So if you happened to go out for asmallbirthday celebration of your own, nobody here would stop you.”

Instantly, I’m out of my seat and lunging at her, my arms wrapping around her body. “Thank you, Mrs. Ricci.”

She pats my back. “No need to thank me. Personally, I always thought you deserved a little more freedom than you had. Nobody your age should be cooped up inside for as long as you have been. You’re only young and pretty once, and I think that scares your father.”

When I pull back, I’m met with a strange look that has her smile wavering. She affectionally pinches my cheek. “I know being a Del Rossi is hard, so I want you to remember that freedom comes with consequences. Whatever choices you make tonight should be ones you stand by because it’s right foryouandyourfuture. Understand?”

My nod is minuscule, but I’m not sure I know what she means.

One night.

I have one night before my life changes forever thanks to decisions I had no say in.

One night to make it count.

Mrs. Ricci’s throat bobs in a thick swallow like she can see the choice I’ve made for myself long before I’ve had time to process it fully myself.

“Go on,” she urges, those eyes becoming glassy as she nudges me out of the kitchen. “Go.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Lincoln/ Seven Years Ago

The ice cubesin the tumbler of amber liquidclinkagainst the glass as it’s raised to a pair of red lips. They’re not the subtle kind of red either, but a sultry shade meant to draw attention to the heart shape of the top lip and the full bottom one. The brown-haired bombshell wants people to look at her, and it’s working.

“Macallan,” I appreciate, sliding onto the bar stool beside the slender girl who I can only hope is around my age. I set my glass of cheap IPA down on the counter. “That’s four-hundred-dollar whiskey you’re drinking.”

One of her dark tweezed eyebrows arches as she turns, letting her whiskey-colored eyes roam over the length of me inquisitively. It takes her a long moment to answer after giving me a thorough once-over. “A man who knows his stuff. I’dalmostbe impressed if we weren’t in a bar.”

Chuckling, I give her a cursory glance.

Her long brown hair rests in waves just past her shoulders. She’s lean and unafraid to show off her results in painted-on clothes that leave little to the imagination. I’d also bet good money that the tits in her low-cut top are either padded or fake based on the way they sit. And I’ve had enough girlfriends in the past to know what expensive perfume smells like.

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