“We weren’t truly friends, though, were we?” I reply crisply, my eyes darting over to my brother who looks like he’s going to come tearing over here any second. “We were party mates at best. Let’s not make it more than it was.”
A deep grumble comes from Santino’s chest, and I swear he visibly grows as he glowers down at me. “I was trying to be a friend at the end.”
Chills rush down my body as memories of my past try to trickle in with his words. But these are memories I want nothing to do with anymore. They are memories I’ve blocked out. And for good reason.
I inhale a cleansing breath and step closer to him, my eyes narrowed with determination. “You may think you were, Santino, but that wasn’t what I needed back then. Which is why it’s best if we keep the past in the past and steer clear of each other while I’m here.”
He blinks back at me in confusion as his eyes rove over my entire face, inspecting it for some sort of clue. When his gaze dips to my lips, I feel my chin rise ever so slightly like our mouths are two magnets pulling towards each other. Flutters erupt in my belly that I haven’t felt in ages, and all of it, every single tiny tickle, pisses me off.
I’m stronger than this.
His voice is low when he replies, “Take care, Trouble.”
Santino pulls back, and I take the opportunity to quickly walk away as fast as this dress will allow me. Even if Santino thinks he was trying to be a friend in my past, that doesn’t mean he’s someone I can trust with my present.
The auction portion of the evening begins, and I feel complete and utter relief when I see that our table is far, far away from Santino. I need space. And perhaps a cold shower. What the hell was that back at the bar? Sexual tension? A quarrel? Both? Either way, I need to stay firm in my decision to stay far, far away from him. Getting mixed up with Santino and everything he represents as one of London’s premier manwhores isn’t at all what I need in life.
I do my best to ignore all thoughts of Santino and focus on the announcer as he lists off the auction items up for bid. Looking around this lot, it’s obvious this group has a lot of money because the bidding ratchets up to a price point that has my jaw nearly hitting the floor. Santino fits right in, I’m sure.
Mac and I didn’t grow up wealthy by any means, but his career as a footballer definitely changed his financial status. Thankfully, he didn’t turn into an insufferable arsehole like so many other footballers I see out there and start buying ridiculous cars and private jets. In fact, the craziest thing Mac did after his first big break was pay off my parents’ home. He also paid the rent on my flat back in Dundonald when I moved home five years ago. I didn’t want him to because the Scottish pride runs deep in me as well, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to argue, and I bloody love the bastard for not taking no for an answer.
My finances are a bit more stable now, thanks in large part to the inheritance I received from my grandad, Fergus. Before he passed, he sold off the bed and breakfast property he owned, leaving him with a tidy sum to pass on to all of us. Although, in all honesty, I think I would have rather had the bed and breakfast than the money. I have fond memories of being there with my grandparents when I was wee. Life was so much simpler then.
But Granddad’s money made it easy for me to leave my job in Dundonald to help out Freya and Mac, so it’s kind of special that he’s still an important part of our lives, even from the grave.
By ten o’clock, the auction wraps up, the lights dim, and a live band begins playing, ratcheting everyone up to full-blown party mode. I turn to Mac with a sheepish smile. “Would you hate me if I took the car home and made you get a taxi?”
Mac’s eyes widen. “Freya said we can’t come home until midnight!”
“Freya said you can’t come home until midnight. I wasn’t included in that late curfew.” I laugh as I recall the argument they had about how many whiskeys Mac needed to drink tonight to ensure he was having a good time. Only Freya Cooke-Logan would be the type of pregnant wife to force her husband to let off some steam.
In fairness, I think she did it because he’s driving her mental with all the fussing he’s doing over her state.
“You don’t want to dance and have a laugh?” Mac asks curiously. “You used to love this sort of scene.”
“That was before, Mac.”
“Aye, that’s right. New and improved Tilly!” he says in a high-pitched voice that I think is supposed to be me but sounds more like Mrs. Doubtfire. He laughs and a tender look sweeps across his face. “I’m just taking the piss. You know I’m fucking proud of you, don’t you?”
“Yes, because you’ve told me roughly twelve times tonight.”
“Well, I am…you just…you’ve got life by the baw sack.” He holds his hand up like he’s gripping a small ball. “The world is your oyster!”
“Thanks, Macky.” I force a smile and hold out my hand. “Now…keys?”
His eyes blink slowly, and I can tell the whiskeys are having the desired effect as he digs in his pocket and produces his valet card. “Give my Cookie a kiss for me.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“Just on the shoulder.” He eyes me wickedly. “That’s my favourite spot to kiss her.”
“Not happening.”
He sighs heavily. “Are you sure I can’t come home yet? I miss her.”
“Not long now, you dope.” I ruffle his shaggy red hair before turning to walk away from the table. “See you later.”
Just as I’m rounding the corner for the loos, Allie’s voice calls out excitedly. “Here she is!” I turn around to find Freya’s friend walking toward me in a stunning black gown and dragging a reluctant Santino behind her. “Tilly! This is who I wanted to introduce you to!”
“Oh?” My eyes go wide as I watch Santino stop behind her, looking like a reluctant child being forced to go shopping for clothes.
“Santino Rossi is the club lawyer for Bethnal Green, and he’s brilliant. I mean, you should see some of the scraps he’s got the Harris family out of. You might not be able to tell this by looking at us, but we are all a hot mess express. Well, reformed hot messes hopefully! Anyways, he’s a contract wizard, and he’s reviewed all the guys’ sponsorship deals, so I think he could help you out with the issues you and Freya are having with the Harrods contract.”
I force a smile. “That’s really sweet, but I was going to find a contract lawyer on Monday.”
“Santino is your man!” she exclaims like she has the golden ticket. “And he’s pretty much family, so you know he’ll have Freya’s best interest at heart.”
Allie looks up at Santino with wide, innocent eyes. He forces a polite smile and replies through clenched teeth, “I’d be happy to take a look.”
“I couldn’t ask that of you,” I rush back, feeling horrified after how I just blew him off earlier.
His lips thin. “It would be no problem.”
“It’s too much.”
“Nonsense!” Allie peals, clearly feeling the effects of whatever she’s been drinking tonight as well. “Why don’t you two have a coffee on Monday and look over the papers? He’ll get you all sorted, I’m sure of it.” With a pause, Allie’s head snaps back and forth between us as she recognises the tension in the room for the first time. “I’m sorry, but do you two know each other?”