“Got it. I’ll head out. Any budget?” She glances from me to Carlo.
“No budget. Get whatever she wants,” he says. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket before he hands her a shiny black card.
“Oh, fancy-pants, I like it.” She flicks the piece of plastic between her fingertips.
“Thank you. Just get something classy, not too over the top. But not too cheap either. We don’t want people to think we’re having money problems,” I tell her.
“Yeah, I don’t think anyone is going to think that.” Georgia laughs.
“Hey!” Jazzy comes running down the hall. “Daddy, are we having a party?”
“We are, sweetheart,” Carlo tells her.
“You want to help me and Georgia pick the menu?” I ask.
“Okay. Can we have ice cream and pancakes?” Jazzy replies hopefully.
“You can have whatever you want.” I nod at her before returning my attention to Carlo. “I’m going to take her downstairs to talk to the chef.”
“I’ll come down with you. I have some things to pick up in the office.” He presses the button on the elevator, and we all pile inside.
Luna goes off in the direction of the mall. Georgia, Jazzy, and I head to the restaurant, and Carlo goes to his office.
You know that feeling? The one that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up? That sense that you’re being watched?
I got it the moment I stepped off the elevator. But when I glance around, I don’t see anyone looking our way. We are safe here. Carlo wouldn’t let us wander off without him if we weren’t. And he has men everywhere.
I try to shake off my anxiety, but even after spending half an hour with the chef and selecting the courses for dinner tonight, I can’t stop feeling like I’m being watched.
I message Carlo to let him know I’m taking Georgia and Jazzy back upstairs. He replies, telling me he’ll be up in ten minutes. Then I pocket my phone and press the button for the elevator.
“You know he’s got it bad,” Georgia whispers.
“Who?”
“Carlo.” She smirks. “He’s smitten with you, babycakes.”
“He’s making the best of the situation,” I tell her.
“My daddy told me he loves you a lot, Antonia. And that he did something bad to you once, but now you forgive him and you get to live happily ever after. Like a princess and a prince,” Jazzy adds.
“You’re right. We do get our happily ever after with our very own littlePrincess Jasmine.” My fingers run through her hair as we step inside the waiting elevator.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m wondering why Antonia wanted to do this dinner party thing if all it’s done is stress her out. Why do something that you clearly don’t enjoy?
I’ve tried to help her. But every time I offer my assistance, she looks at me with disappointment. Almost like I’ve just told her she’s useless and can’t do anything. I hate feeling like I can’t help her without making her doubt herself.
It’s my fault she has that doubt. I know I fucked up, and I’m only just now learning how much. I’ve watched her from a distance over the years, and she seemed like she was doing fine. I should have looked fucking harder. I can’t undo what I did. I just have to figure out how to fix it.
Maybe I should ask Charlotte? She seems emotionally equipped for this sort of shit. It’s not like I can ask the guys. They’re hopeless at realizing their own fucking feelings, let alone figuring out someone else’s.
“Babe, this looks amazing,” I say, gesturing to the overdone dining table.
“Are you sure?” Antonia asks, chewing her bottom lip.
“I’ve literally never seen a better-looking table,” I tell her. “Although there is one way it could improve.”
