“This is not my calm mask, Nadine. It’s my indifferent look.”

I walk away before she can twist my words around and truly make me mad. Manipulation is her game, but she can’t play it alone.

On my way to the restroom, I stop a waiter carrying a tray of shots and grab one. I mistakenly thought it was tequila, realizing too late it’s cachaça, a Brazilian spirit that burns ten times hotter down my throat. I should have known.

Chiara suddenly crosses in my line of vision, veering toward the restroom I had been going to a moment ago. I quicken my steps and reach her before she can disappear through the door.

“Chiara,” I call out.

She stops and glances over her shoulder. I was expecting a neutral expression, not the fury burning in her eyes.

“Mr. Walsh. I didn’t expect to see you here,” she replies coldly.

“I RSVPed a while ago.”

“Sure.” She turns away to continue on her path to the restroom.

I should let her go. She’s angry at me, and now is not the time to fix things, especially with Nadine here. But I’m an idiot, and also, I can’t stand to see Chiara mad. So I reach over and grab her arm.

She pulls free from my grasp with a jerk and glares. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So? Are you going to play the mature adult and burst my bubble?”

I pass a hand over my face in an attempt to rein in my temper. I can’t have an argument with a student in front of all these people. It’d be like waving a flag that we’re together.

“No. I’m leaving. Have fun, Miss Moretti.”

CHIARA

My heart sinks as I watch Alistair walk away. I can’t believe I let jealousy and insecurity take control like that just because his ex-wife showed up at the party—with another man, I might add. I’m an imbecile.

Tomorrow, I can blame my behavior on the two caipirinhas I had. Right now, I just want to hide in a bathroom and cry.

Someone touches my shoulder, and stupid me thinks it’s Alistair who came back.

“Are you okay, Chiara?” Robbie asks, and I’m not quick enough to hide my disappointment.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. Did you expect someone else?”

“What? No.”

He hooks his arm with mine and begins to steer me up the stairs. “We need to talk.”

“Where are we going?”

“I promised you a tour, and I never delivered. I want to show you my room.”

I think nothing of it until I’m inside his bedroom and find Phillip lounging on Robbie’s bed like he belongs there.

“Hey, babe. What took you so—” His eyes widen when he sees me standing next to Robbie.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Phillip sits up straighter and looks from me to Robbie in a panic. “Yeah, I’d like to know as well.”

“I’m gonna tell her,” Robbie replies.

Phillip jumps from the bed as if he’d been electrocuted. “Tell her what?”

“That we’re together.”

Dio Santo. I didn’t expect that.

Phillip laughs nervously. “In your dreams, buddy. Don’t believe a word he says, Chiara. Robbie is a jokester.”

“I can’t keep this secret anymore, Phillip. I love you, and I want to be able to tell the world that.”

Phillip’s eyes widen, shining with anguish.

Shit. So Jillian’s insinuations were true.

“I don’t care if you’re gay, Phillip,” I say.

He whips his face to mine, frowning now. “You may not care, but society does. Do you think I have a chance in hell of playing football at college level if people knew I was gay? No one would recruit me.”

Robbie pulls his hair back and begins to pace. “It’s not fair.”

“Babe, we’ve talked about this.”

“Uh, maybe I shouldn’t be here,” I chime in.

“Yeah, I don’t think you should,” Phillip retorts.

“No, I brought Chiara here because she’s the only one who would understand our situation and maybe help us.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling leery now.

With a glint in his eyes, he says, “I know about you and Mr. Walsh.”

What the hell! I feel the blood drain from my face.

“Mr. Walsh and me?” I laugh nervously. “Are you for real?”