I make a grab for the tissue, but Alistair drops to his knees and does the job for me. When his hand brushes near my sex, I pry the tissue from his grasp; if he touches the sensitive spot now, I might come again.
“Are we a couple?” I blurt before I lose my nerve.
Alistair smiles as he unfurls from his crouch. “Yes, Goldi. We are.” A wave of relief rushes through my chest until he continues, “But we can’t be out in the open. Not until this semester is over.”
I try to hide my disappointment by looking down. “I know. That means coming to my apartment is probably too risky since a lot of DuBose students live there.”
“Yes, I’d say so.”
“How are we going to see each other, then?”
“You can come to my place if we’re careful.” He rubs my lips with his thumb.
I grin. “Hmm, a covert operation. I like the sound of that.”
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I hate seeing other guys coming on to you.”
“Oh, are you referring to Phillip? That was just a silly act. It meant nothing.”
Relief is evident in his expression. He captures my face between his hands and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Good.”
“What about you, Alistair? Who does your heart belong to?” I sound pathetic and desperate asking the question, but I have to know.
There’s only a brief pause before he replies, “It’s yours, Goldilocks. Mangled and bruised, but it’s all yours.”
29
Chiara
After our impromptu hookup in Alistair’s office on Wednesday, we didn’t dare take any more risks. We were both busy during the rest of the week, which meant I didn’t get my booty fix. Friday, I was supposed to go over to his place, but he had to cancel it last minute on account of having dinner with his lawyer. And today, I have Robbie’s mom’s birthday party.
I’m about to order an Uber when Valerie texts me asking if I want a ride.
She arrives thirty minutes later, driving a freaking yellow Ferrari. My jaw is still hanging when I slide into the supple leather seat.
“Nice car.”
“Thanks. It was a gift from my sugar daddy.”
I give her an incredulous look. “What?”
She laughs. “Relax. I’m just kidding. My father gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday. He tries to compensate for missing every important milestone in my life with lavish and expensive gifts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I haven’t spent that much time with the man to miss him, and I get to reap the benefits of his guilty conscience. It’s a win-win situation for me.”
Hardly. But I keep my opinion to myself.
I grew up around wealth. My family is well-to-do, but here in LA, it’s all about wealth excess. No one in my private school back in Italy drove a Ferrari. Although if they did, they’d flaunt it, unlike Valerie. I couldn’t tell her family came from money by the way she acts in school. She’s super laid back and doesn’t flash designer accessories—something I’m guilty of.
When we arrive at Robbie’s house in Beverly Hills, the party is already going at full speed. From outside the gates, we can hear a live band playing a song I don’t recognize but makes my bones want to dance.
“Have you ever met Robbie’s parents?” I ask Valerie.
“Oh yeah. A few times. Monica Santos is the birthday girl. She owns a real estate business that caters to all the A-listers in the city. Tessa Donavan is an executive for a TV network.”
“Talk about power couple.” I eye the small box I got from Cartier, a suggestion from Robbie when I asked. “I hope she likes my gift.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
I see a few people from school as I follow Valerie deeper into the party. Phillip, Harold, and even Josh are here. We don’t stop to chat until we find the hosts though. Finally, we spot Robbie in the living room, wearing a velvet peacock-blue suit and equally bright pink button-down shirt.
“Chiara! You’re here. Finally.” He engulfs me in a hug.
“Hello to you too, jerkface.” Valerie scowls.
He waves her off. “Pff, you practically live here.” With his arm over my shoulders, he turns me around. “Mom and Mom, this is Chiara Moretti, the new transplant from Italy.”
Two gorgeous women stare at me. One has luscious dark hair that cascades down her back and a deep tan that’s accentuated by her skintight white dress, emphasizing her luscious curves. The second is fair and freckled and has red hair that matches Robbie’s tone. She’s wearing a less revealing dark green dress and seems more reserved than her wife. I can easily guess who is from Brazil, but I don’t want to assume and end up sounding like an ass.
The brunette hugs me enthusiastically. Definitely the Brazilian.
She takes a step back. “Welcome. I’m Monica, and this is my wife, Tessa.”
“Nice to meet you. Here, this is for you.” I offer Monica the small box. “Happy birthday.”
“Oh, thank you, sweetie.”
