Perfect Match (Vice Club Nights #2)

17. Gio

Chapter seventeen

Gio

New York City

I ’m a fucking mess . The proof being that straight off the company jet, I’d had my driver drop me here at the club. I’d banged on my friend Ryan’s door, woke him up, and poured my guts out to him about my father’s plan for me to marry Lucia. Saying the words aloud made the whole thing sound even more fucked up than it is. Ant and I have spent weeks poring over the contract, looking for a loophole, but so far, we’ve got nothing.

Worse than that, Ant and I had a massive argument a couple of days ago, and he left Florence for Manhattan convinced I was going to marry Lucia. If my father’s plan was to pit us against each other, he’s been successful.

Now I’m standing back on the sidewalk outside the club and Ryan’s apartment like a lost puppy, with no idea of what to do next. I could return to my huge penthouse only a few blocks away. It cost me millions to purchase but has remained virtually empty this year while I’ve been living in Italy doing my father’s bidding. Or I could just disappear. Not forever, but for a few days until I can figure my life out, just like I told my friend that I needed to do.

The thoughts bounce about in my head. What I need to do. What I want to do.

I want to see Tori, who is somewhere in this city, but I can’t. Not until I get my shit together. And that requires me coming up with some kind of plan on how to deal with my father and avoid marrying Lucia without blowing up my relationship with the people most important in my life—my brothers.

A conversation with them will have to wait, especially with Ant barely talking to me, Leo distracted by a huge private function he’s catering in his restaurant tonight, and Nico still across the Atlantic in London. I type out a message to the group chat I have with them.

Me: Guys, I need to speak to you all, but I have some things to sort out first. Let’s meet tomorrow night at Leo’s. Nico, you need to be here. And nobody mention this emergency meeting to our father.

A barrage of messages from two of my brothers starts lighting up my phone. Ant has seen the message but doesn’t respond. I hope he turns up tomorrow. Then instead of reading or responding to them, I text my old school friend Tyler Forbes, asking if he can discreetly book me a suite in one of his Manhattan hotels. He does this kind of thing for celebrities all the time, so I know he can be trusted to keep my visit quiet.

Finally, I text Ryan and Hunter to let them know I’m disappearing for a few days, at least publicly, and won’t be contactable. But if anything urgent comes up, then I’m at Tyler’s hotel. Before leaving Florence, I told my assistant to tell anybody—including my father—who asked that I was taking a holiday for a week.

One week. It’s not long, but it’s all I’ve got to work out my plan. I do my best work under pressure, but even knowing that doesn’t give me the confidence to bring this mess to a conclusion that prevents someone from being hurt by the result.

Slinging my overnight bag over my shoulder, I start to walk with no particular destination in mind yet. But the simple motion as my stride lengthens is enough to ease the softball-size knot that’s been lodged in my gut and has become a constant ever since that meeting with my father. And by the time Tyler has messaged me the details for the hotel suite, I’m feeling a bit calmer.

***

My brother’s restaurant, Leonardo’s in Midtown, deserves every accolade it receives, from the curved oak partitions between the candlelit white-linen-covered tables, ensuring guests’ privacy, to the spectacular city views and the Michelin-star food. But none of that registers with me tonight as I walk to the kitchen end of the restaurant. This is the regular table that Leo sets aside for my brothers and me on the rare occasions we all find ourselves in the city at the same time.

Ant is already at the table, and as I approach, his glare sears me. If looks could kill, I’d be bleeding out on the carpet from a dagger to my heart. He hasn’t forgiven our last conversation where I stupidly said that the only answer was for Lucia and me to announce our engagement like our father insists. I still think it would buy us more time to come up with a permanent solution.

“Antonio,” I say by way of greeting while extending my hand.

He glances at it but makes no move to take it. He looks like he’s had about as much sleep as me since we last met, which would total a single-digit number of hours.

“Seriously, you’re going to leave me hanging.”

“Yep,” he growls.

I take the seat opposite him. “Ant, you know this whole thing with Lucia was not my idea, and I’m as happy about it as you are.”

“But you’re the fucker who’s going to go through with it. You’re doing our father’s bidding like you always do. That’s so fucking weak, man.”

My fists clench at my side. The accusations are like shards of glass cutting into my skin, drawing blood.

“I never said I was going to go through with it,” I grind out through gritted teeth.

How could I have let my father poison my relationship with my brother and Tori ? Maybe I am everything Ant is accusing me of being.

“Have you spoken to Lucia today?” I ask, and his brows rise high. Obviously not.

Leo appears behind him. “He lives,” he says, smiling at me while referencing my disappearing act over the last thirty-six hours. Then, seeming to notice the icy atmosphere between Ant and me, he moves to stand halfway between us. His gaze tracking silently back and forth. All three sets of eyes now a stormy gray.

Placing his palms on the table, he leans forward. “What the fuck is up with you two?” he asks in a low voice.

Ant’s gaze never wavers from mine as he says, “Gio is going to marry Lucia. And he promised me that he wouldn’t.”

Nico arrives just in time to hear Ant’s words. “Bro, why are you marrying Lucia? I thought you liked some Australian girl.”

All three of my brothers are now glaring at me. “Will you all just sit the fuck down so I can explain.”

Leo places two bottles of Barbieri Wines’ finest pinot noir on the table between us, then sits. Ant throws back the remaining burnished liquid in the crystal tumbler in front of him, which I suspect is an aged whiskey. And Nico opens and pours four glasses of wine.

When we’re all seated with a full glass in front of each of us, I begin. “I don’t want to marry Lucia. And Lucia doesn’t want to marry me. The problem is that if Lucia doesn’t marry a Barbieri, according to a fucked-up contract our father signed with hers, then the majority share of the Barbieri Corporation will be transferred to Romano Holdings.”

“Why the fuck are we only hearing about this now?” Leo growls, scowling at Ant and me.

“Because it’s taken the last couple of weeks for my lawyers to go through the contract line by line to try to find a way out of it.”

“And have they?” Leo asks.

“No. It’s rock-solid,” I admit.

“So that means you’re going to marry her? You can screw your life if you want, but don’t take Lucia down with you,” Ant accuses.

“Guys,” Leo pleads, his hands held aloft. “Don’t you get that this arguing is what Dad wants? You two divided. We’re brothers, and we’ve always sorted the important shit out together.”

Ant and I go to argue, but Leo’s hands rise again as he commands, “No, stop. I don’t want to hear it. You’re my brothers, and I love you both, but don’t make me choose sides, because I won’t. I’d rather throw you both out of my restaurant now than do that.”

“I’m sorry, Leo,” I say, because he’s right; this is what our father wants.

“G, I’m not who you should be apologizing to.” He gestures toward Ant, who is leaning on his elbows with his head dropped into his hands.

And finally, it hits me. The answer was right in front of me.

“Ant, you should marry Lucia,” I say in a low voice.

His head springs up. “What the fuck is wrong with you? She’s my best friend.” He goes to stand, but Leo’s hand on his shoulder keeps him in place.

“I know, which is why it makes more sense that you marry her than me.”

Leo releases his hold on Ant before lending his support to my suggestion. “It’s a good idea. But how would that work with the contract?”

Ant turns his glare from me to Leo. “But Lucia—” he starts to argue.

Speaking over him, I say, “As far as I know, the contract just states the head of the Barbieri Corporation, and Ant is CEO of Barbieri Foods, so head of one of the subsidiaries, just like me.” I face Ant straight on. “Ant, think about it. Lucia would rather marry her best friend than me.”

“Her father will never agree.” Ant continues to highlight roadblocks.

“Her father and ours don’t need to know until it’s done,” I reply.

“Are you thinking Vegas?” Nico chimes in for the first time.

“I’m definitely thinking Vegas,” I answer. “It’s the quickest, easiest way. But nobody other than us and Lucia can know,” I warn. “I’ll speak with Lucia tonight.”

“No, I’ll speak to her,” Ant jumps in. His voice is strong and daring me to disagree. “She’s going to hate the idea,” he mumbles almost to himself.

“Maybe, but when she thinks of the alternative, me—or worse, someone else her father decides will serve his purposes better—then I’m sure she’ll agree.”

“That’s crazy,” Nico says. “It’s like her father thinks he’s a Roman emperor marrying off his daughter without her consent.”

“Our parents and hers were arranged marriages, so they don’t see anything wrong with it,” Ant adds. He releases a loud, heavy sigh. “So I guess I’ll ask her to marry me.”

“Don’t forget to get down on one knee,” Leo teases.

“Shut the fuck up, Leo,” Ant snaps back as he stands.

Leo just laughs. “Love you too, Ant. Now get the hell out of my restaurant.”

“Ant, before you go. Nobody else can know about this until it’s done.” I look around at each of my brothers, and they nod their acceptance in turn. “If our father finds out that Ant and I are planning to swap places, he’ll stop us. We all know how he hates to be disobeyed.”

Ant leaves, and Nico follows soon after.

Leo and I continue chatting as we finish the bottle of wine. Occasionally, I check my phone to see if Tori has agreed to meet me. The text I sent this morning, letting her know I was in Manhattan and wanted to see her, remained unanswered for hours, but eventually, she replied, “Maybe later.” I’m hopeful that’s as good as a yes, and that soon I’ll get another message telling me when she’s free.

Being the clever guy he is, Leo notices my distraction and, resting his elbows on the table, leans in to ask, “Now that we seem to have a solution to your inconvenient marriage, what are you going to do about your Australian girl?”

“How do you know about her?”

He laughs. “Ant told us weeks ago that you met someone in Naples and then again in Florence. It must be serious if she managed to get you to take a couple of days off.” In recent years, my brothers have joked that I’m a workaholic. It’s not far from the truth, but I still don’t like the jibes because it makes me sound like our father.

“Tori is special, but with all this mess, I probably shouldn’t see her again.”

“Are you planning to?”

“I was hoping to see her later tonight. Does that make me a bad person?”

The shrug of Leo’s shoulders is barely perceptible. “Only you can answer that.”

“I want to try to explain why I can’t be with her. But I’m not sure how I do that when everything about this situation is fucked up.”

He nods with understanding. “If she’s worth it, you’ll find a way to be together. Bro, just don’t lie to her.”

I look up at him, and something in his expression tells me he’s speaking from experience. “Maybe, but until Ant and Lucia are actually married, I have to pretend to our father and Tori that I’m going to marry Lucia.”

Leo nods while he tops up our glasses. “I didn’t say it was going to be easy.”

Not easy—more like impossible.