Claiming What's Mine

Chapter 3: Sofia

Two years ago

A hand settles on my shoulder. Startled, I spin around. As my gaze collides with Franco's, a big smile spreads across my face. A matching grin lights up his.

“Franco!"

“Long time, no see, Valentini!"

Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around his thin, wiry body and squeeze tight. He does the same. It's been at least a year since we've seen each other. Franco and I grew up together, and we've been close friends ever since. He moved to New York after college. We rarely get the chance to spend time together due to our busy schedules. Finding him here is a wonderful surprise.

“What are you doing here?"

“I was heading back from California when Pops asked me to stop home." He jerks his head toward the wing of the house where my father's office is located, his jovial expression sobering. “He's meeting with Enzo."

“And he brought you along for the ride, huh?" Trying to lighten the heaviness permeating the air, I joke, “Moving up in the world, I see."

He rolls his mocha-colored eyes and snickers. “Sure, I'll be running the show in two years, max."

I smirk as pleasure floods through me again at his unexpected presence. Regardless of the reason, I'm happy to see him. “I don't doubt it."

Like me, Franco has no interest in joining the family business. We've always had that in common. It's what bonded us together in the beginning. We're just two misfits who want to blaze our own trail in the world by choosing different paths for ourselves. Franco graduated with a degree in accounting. He's a whiz with finances. Unfortunately, his chosen area of study is a useful skill set to his father.

Mine, not so much. Which is fine with me.

“I was hoping we could get together while I'm in town. Are you free?" he asks.

“How about tonight?" I suggest, wanting to nail something down before we say goodbye.

“It'll have to be after eight; there are family obligations I have to take care of first. Maybe we can grab dinner and drinks and make a night of it?"

I pull Franco into my arms again. I've missed his friendship this past year. It's not the same with him gone. There aren't many people I can be honest with. Franco is one of the few. Even though I'm surrounded by family, friends, and my father's men, life at the compound is lonely.

You're never sure who can be trusted and who can be bought with enough money thrown in their direction. I've had supposed friends sell stories to the tabloids regarding my family. Once that happens, you grow cautious as to who you allow into your inner circle. When you do happen to find someone who proves themselves to be trustworthy, you hold on to them tightly with both hands because you understand just how precious a commodity it is.

I grin. “It'll be just like old times."

Still wrapped in Franco's arms, I feel his presence seconds before he clears his throat. There's no rational explanation for why my body is so finely attuned to his, but it is.

“Your father is wondering where you've disappeared to," Roman says to Franco in a clipped tone.

Franco tenses and turns to face him. When I try to step out of Franco's embrace, he stakes his claim by tightening his hold. The two men silently glare at each other as the atmosphere in the kitchen becomes oppressive.

Not once does Roman glance my way.

He never does.

To him, I am invisible.

It's been a year since Roman began working for my father and his dislike for me hasn't diminished. It's as if he made a snap decision and has never bothered to revise it.

Franco looks down at me with questioning eyes and tightens his hold. He must feel the tension permeating the air, too.

A muscle ticks in Roman's jaw, but his mask of indifference doesn't falter. He reminds me of a predator right before it strikes at prey. I can't imagine why he would lash out at Franco. They're not even acquainted with one another. Enzo and Franco's father formed an alliance decades ago. It would be foolish to create problems where none exist.

“I stopped to say hello to Sofia," Franco replies. “I'll be there shortly."

Roman's scowl deepens as he folds his arms across his wide chest. My eyes note the way his T-shirt stretches over every contour. His biceps bulge, muscles flexing with each movement. “Your father has grown impatient with your absence. Questions have surfaced that require your particular area of expertise."

Franco stiffens. He isn't happy about using his education in this manner, but he has a difficult time denying his father. His decision to distance himself from the family business has caused strife between them. I'm lucky in that regard. I have three older brothers and a handful of cousins to pick up that mantle.

Not so for Franco. He feels trapped in a lifestyle he neither asked for nor wanted.

“Fine." Looking irritated, Franco shoots me a glance. “I'll call you later, and we'll figure out a time and place. Sound good?"

I nod in acknowledgment. The warm comfort of Franco's arms vanishes from around me. Franco's eyes shift from Roman to me as if he's trying to figure out what's going on between us. He squeezes my fingers and strides through the arched doorway to head down the hall to my father's office.

My throat goes bone dry, and air leaks from my lungs as Roman frowns at me. I can tell the interaction we're about to have won't be pleasant. It's the why of the matter that eludes me. A surge of awareness zips through my body. My muscles tighten and lock up, rooting me in place.

I'm powerless to flee.

Powerless to do anything other than stare back at him.

How is he able to do this?

How does he tie my insides up in little knots with one hard-edged glare aimed in my direction?

I've never experienced this kind of intensity before. What a huge cosmic joke that the man who makes me feel this way wants nothing to do with me.

“You need to stop being such a distraction," Roman snaps.

The blood drains from my face. Confused by his reaction, I ask, “What are you talking about?"

“He's here for a reason, and you're getting in the way of it."

“Franco and I are friends. We were just saying hello."

“You're a distraction," he growls. “I don't think you know how to be anything other than that."

Before I can protest, he stalks out of the kitchen, leaving me to pull myself together after another disastrous conversation. But I can't. No matter how much I rack my brain, I'll never understand why Roman hates me.