“Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it.” He pats Alistair’s back as if they are indeed friends.
“Thanks for inviting me.” Alistair doesn’t miss a beat, following along with the charade.
Phew. A good sign. Looks like he wants some booty, and I’m all too happy to oblige. The thought of having a one-night stand with Alistair makes my core throb in anticipation. Crap. I’m not prone to bouts of insta-lust. I usually require some major flirting and alcohol before I even contemplate sleeping with someone. That explains why I’ve only had a couple of hookups. Most of my friends from school have lost count of the number of casual sex encounters they’ve had. I’m the most prudish eighteen-year-old at All Saints, despite what the rumors say. And I have Paola to thank for that. Before she graduated high school, she made sure to tarnish my reputation just for kicks.
Max turns to me with a glint of mischief in his gaze. “Say, Chibi, how did you find my friend?”
I blink a couple of times to clear my mind from my stray thoughts. “Oh, he had car trouble. I found him on the side of the road with a flat tire and no jack.”
Max glances up and down at Alistair’s clothes. “Come on, let me get you something to wear. My family will flip out if they see you come in wearing jeans and a T-shirt.”
Alistair throws me an uncertain glance.
I nod in encouragement. “I’ll catch you later. It was very nice to meet you, Alistair.”
He follows Max inside, and as soon as they disappear over the threshold, my mother grabs my forearm and pulls me closer. “If you think I buy for one second that half-baked excuse Max concocted, you’re sorely mistaken, Chiara.”
“It’s not an excuse. Alistair is Max’s friend from New York.”
“Do you think I was born yesterday? I know you very well. I’m sick of your shenanigans. If your father hadn’t already paid for your year abroad, I wouldn’t let you go to California. You may fool him into believing you’re going for your education, but I know all you care about is parties and sleeping around.”
I pull my arm from her grasp and rub the sore spot. I’ll have an angry red mark there, but that’s not what’s making my eyes burn. “Go ahead, Mother, just call me a whore.”
“You sound so offended,” she sneers. “I know very well what you were up to in Milan. Your cousin filled me in on the sordid details.”
“Paola is a fucking liar!” I finally lose control of my emotions.
Fury flickers in my mother’s eyes. She grabs my chin, digging her long nails into my skin painfully. “You’d better watch your tongue. I’ll not tolerate that kind of filthy language.”
I step back, freeing myself from her sharp talons. There are so many things I want to say, but the words get lodged in my throat. Yes, I have ulterior motives for going to California. I want to escape all the fucking stares and gossip from All Saints. Thanks to my cousin’s lies, everyone thinks I’m a nympho. The distance is also a great motivator. Maybe with an entire ocean and country between us, my family will forget I exist.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll make sure to keep my profanities to a minimum.” I turn on my heels and flee back to the house. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
I don’t find Max and Alistair anywhere, and for that, I’m grateful. If Max sees me in this state and the mark on my arm, he’s going to lose his shit. He’s another one who hasn’t been very lucky in the parental department. While my mother abuses me mostly with words, Max’s father enjoyed using him as a punching bag. Thank fuck that asshole is now in jail.
I veer toward the kitchen, where the caterers are in full swing preparing food for the party. I spot what I’m looking for right away, and before anyone can say anything, I wrap my fingers around the bottle of Chianti and bolt out of the room.
But the problem is, where can I hide? If I manage to slip outside unseen, I can take the track down the valley and find a spot out of sight.
I veer in that direction but stop after a couple of steps when I hear the sound of overly cheery female voices approaching the house.
Paola’s friends. Ugh.
Looking left and right, I make a split-second decision and enter the first room to my right.
It’s not empty. Alistair is there wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.
My jaw drops while my heart jumps up to my throat, getting stuck there.
Mamma mia.
I don’t care that my reputation is already in the gutter. I’m so riding that tonight.
4
Alistair
I freeze when I hear the door open, finding Chiara standing there with a bottle of red wine in her hand. The deer-in-headlights look on her face tells me she didn’t come looking for me. On instinct, I place my hands in front of my crotch to cover the sudden arousal her presence has caused.
Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not a perv. Why is my body acting like I’m one?
Her gaze drops below my waist, and I fight not to squirm where I stand.
“Madonna Santa! I’m so sorry. I thought the room was empty,” she says but makes no motion to leave.
“I was about to change into the clothes your cousin brought me.”
“Right.”
She closes the door behind her and ventures farther into the room, making me even more tense. What is she playing at here? I’m not naïve when it comes to women and their games. I’ve seen plenty of them in action before. However, instead of preparing to rebuff her if she tries to come on to me, I’m actually looking forward to it.
Maybe Nadine and her betrayal did irreparable damage to my brain and turned me into a perv after all.
“Starting the party early?” I eye the Chianti in her hand.
Chiara cradles the dark bottle with both hands and stares at it, almost absentmindedly. “Yes. We love our wine.”
She sits on the edge of the bed, curling her smooth legs under her. I swallow hard as my cock twitches inside my boxer shorts. Fuck. I’m so screwed.
