Page 6 of Forbidden Bond

“Well, we’re worried. You haven’t been on the front pages of any magazines lately. Christian’s worried you’re gearing up for some epic fuckup.”

Typical Christian.

“And you?”

“I told him you were probably just busy running the shop and that he didn’t have to worry about you.”

That makes me smile.

“Carlo, you realize I’m Christopher D’Angelo, right? It’s always a good idea to be worried about me.”

“Alright, so are you going to give me a good reason to be worried anytime soon?” my brother questions.

At that moment, my phone dings with an incoming text. I shift the phone away to read the content and a grin overtakes my face. The text is from Max.

Party at NYU on Friday. Some rich dude’s throwing it and it’s going to be elite. You’d better not miss this one.

“Actually,” I say, still smiling, “there’s a very real possibility that I might, fratello.”

Carlo sighs. “You know the rules.”

“Don’t cause a problem so big that not even the D’Angelo name can get me out of it,” I state.

“Exactly. While I don’t believe there’s any such problem,” Carlo says, which earns a snort from me, “better safe than sorry. I’ll talk to you later, Toph. See you at the next family dinner.”

“See you.”

He hangs up and I stand still for a few seconds, taking in the dozen cars in the garage. My brothers believe I’m changing, that I’m making a life for myself, building something good. While a part of me would love to prove them right, another part wants so badly not to fit into the box my family wants me to. That’s the rebellious side, the side that wants me to be my own man despite not knowing how to do that.

I lean away from the wall to get to work. Before I do, though, something flashes in my mind. A memory of a girl with pretty blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a faulty alternator.

Maybe NYU is exactly where I’ve got to be come Friday.

CHAPTER 3

Katie

The door slams shut at 7 a.m., just like it does every morning during the week, signaling the departure of my roommate. Francine and I have been living together for two years and I can count on one hand how many times we’ve sat down to have a conversation.

Her schedule doesn’t help, because she’s always busy either with school or working one part-time job or the other. I also suspect she doesn’t like me much. There’s a very real possibility that in her mind, I’m some tasteless rich girl who doesn’t do much except spend her daddy’s money and wear designer clothing. I’m so much more than that, though. But she’s never bothered to get to know me, and I’ve never been inclined to push it.

Plus, the situation suits me perfectly. Francine is out of the two-bedroom apartment we share first thing in the morning and she doesn’t get in until late at night. She spends the weekends at her boyfriend’s house, so I basically live here all on my own. Well mostly.

Jameson groans from the floor and I roll my eyes as I sit up, stretching my arms.

“Could you tell your housemate to stop slamming the door like that early in the mornings?” he questions, half-asleep.

I slide down to the floor, delivering an “accidental” kick to the side of his stomach as I head toward my vanity. He groans in pain, curling up on the floor.

“Why would I do that? She’s the perfect alarm clock. Thanks to her, I’m up by seven every day,” I point out, placing my sleep mask on the table in front of me. I turn to him for a second, observing his position on the floor, “I told you to use the blanket or climb into bed with me.”

“Yes, but you were also glaring at me and I got the sense the offer wasn’t from the kindness of your heart,” my best friend says, getting to his feet. He runs his hand through his brown hair before narrowing his blue eyes in my direction.

“You came in here at one a.m., piss drunk and interrupting my sleep. Did you expect me to be nice?”

“I expected you to guide me into bed slowly and gently. Make sure I was comfortable and also maybe provide a bucket by my side in case I woke up and needed to puke. Instead, you glared at me and called me annoying and a dickhead.”

“Do I look like your nanny?”

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