End of the Innocence (22 page)

I didn’t know what man considered two hours of driving me wild a present, but I could tell you this—

I wasn’t ever letting him go.

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I
rolled over in the soft bed, pushing through expensive sheets until I felt hot skin. No matter what the temperature in the room, Brad’s skin was always fever hot. I pulled myself closer, wrapping my chilly body around the curve of his back, his body turning at my touch, his arm reaching out to pull me tightly against him. I felt his lips against my hair as he pressed a soft kiss on my head.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice scratchy.

“Morning,” I murmured with a smile, loving the cocoon of sheets, blankets, and Brad, the blackout shades keeping the master bedroom dark despite the sunshine outside.

“That might have been the best birthday ever,” he said, his hands gripping my waist and sliding me easily up his body until his lips could reach mine.

“Might have?” I scoffed.

His mouth curved and his dark eyes smiled at me. “Definitely was. Happy?”

“Certainly, Mr. De Luca. Though I’m not sure if you will be so appreciative when you get the bill.” I widened my eyes dramatically and grinned at him.

He pulled me to him, kissing me softly in between words. “You are. Worth. Every. Penny. Seeing you with her, the look you get in your eyes ...” his voice trailed off as his eyes studied me. “You will be the death of me,” he whispered. “I am completely and totally at your mercy.”

“Impossible.” I moved on top of him, straddling his width. “You always have the upper hand with us.”

His gaze moved, drinking my naked body in, his hands following the path of his eyes, caressing and fondling. “No,” he said. “But I take my power when I can. And right now, I see a prime opportunity.”

It was a prime opportunity, my body already naked, my soul craving some one-on-one time with Brad’s delicious body. He devoured me with his mouth, claimed me with his cock, and made it all sensual with his hands. A half-hour later, I fell back asleep, a happy and thoroughly satisfied woman.

My cell rang, loudly and incessantly in the dark room. I reached out with a hand, groping blindly until I found and tapped the screen, silencing the call. There was thirty seconds of peace and quiet, then it began again. I ignored it, rolling over and pulling a pillow over my head, the damn thing finally ending its shrill ring. I relaxed, slipping back into sleep.

“Julia.” I kept my eyes closed and body still, playing dead, willing him to give up and go away.

“Julia, wake up.” There was a rustle of fabric, and suddenly light. The pillow was yanked from my grasp and a phone replaced it, pressed against my exposed ear.

“Julia, are you there?”
Rebecca.
I opened my eyes to find Brad’s amused face above me, his hand holding the phone to my ear. I mumbled some form of greeting.

“Julia, you’re supposed to be at Franco’s in thirty minutes. Do you
know
what it took to get you in last minute? You’ve got to get your ass up and over there, pronto. Becca and Olivia are already on their way. Don’t
make
me show up at Brad’s.” I sat up, taking the phone from him and shooting him an irritated look.

“Stop screaming. I have time.” I swayed on my way to the closet, the right side now reserved for me, my new wardrobe holding its own alongside Brad’s expensive clothes. I yanked open a drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, grateful that we had showered after sex last night.

“Oh my Lord, if you’re not early, you’re late. It’s Franco’s, and you’re picking out your wedding dress. Most girls would have already been in their lobby, orgasming in their silk panties by now.”

“Been there, done that this morning.”

She blew a noisy breath into the phone. “Ugh, that is my boss you are talking about. Please spare me the juicy details of your scandalous sex life.”

“Fine. But don’t say shit like ‘orgasming in silk panties.’ It’s creepy.”

She paused. “Point taken. Now get your ass to Franco’s and pick out something that will make me green with envy.”

I grinned, hopping into the jeans and flipping through hangers until I found a tank top. “I’ll try my best. I’ll text you a pic of the winner.”

We said our goodbyes, and I returned to the room, grabbing my purse and cell and heading downstairs, finding Brad in the kitchen with Martha. I handed him his cell and gave her a quick hug.

“You got time for breakfast?” she asked.

“No, I’m late as it is.” I grabbed an apple.

“The girls meeting you there?” he asked.

“Yep. We’ll probably grab lunch afterward.”

There was a rap at the back door, and we turned as a group, a broad-shouldered blond opening the door. Ben. I flashed him a smile and then studied Brad, noticing his matching attire. “What are you guys up to?”

“Hitting the batting cages. Season starts in three weeks.” Brad clapped Ben on the back, flashing me a smile.

“No wonder you were so enthusiastic about me going to Franco’s.”

“According to Rebecca, this is supposed to be something you enjoy, so don’t give me hell.”

“It is. Enjoy hitting; I’ll catch up with you guys later.” I hugged Ben and gave Brad a kiss, waving to Martha, and heading out the door. Ahead of me waited Franco’s, with its expensive array of designer whites, lace, and beading. The prospect of the perfect dress, mimosas, and the girls got my feet moving and SUV in gear. That, and the risk of death that awaited from Rebecca if I didn’t arrive at Franco’s on time.

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S
ecrets. They lay like a force field between my friends and me. What had started as one then led to two, eventually piling into a mountain-sized pile of deceit that I drug around with me on every interaction with them. The threesomes, Brad owning a strip club, Brad’s family, their involvement in Broward’s death, me owning a strip club, the attempt on my life. The secrets fought amongst themselves, battling for exposure whenever I was with the girls. A casual outing for drinks became a cocktail of inner turmoil. How close could friends be when there was so much unsaid?

Brad had never sworn me to secrecy, or asked that I kept things from the girls. But I knew what would happen if I told them. Judgment. Judgment of my morals, Brad, and me. Questioning of our relationship and how it would ever work. I didn’t need that. I didn’t need or want to explain my life and my choices. So I chose the suitcase of secrets and their belief that I lived a perfect, normal existence. Yes, there was now distance between us, but at least we were still friends. At least they were somewhat supportive of my relationship.

♦♦♦

“I
t’s absolutely gorgeous, Jules. Totally you.” Becca beamed at me over the rim of her Diet Coke, her blonde hair shining in the afternoon sun.

“It’s true. I think it really fits you,” Olivia added, settling back in her chair.

We sat on the outside deck at Cucumbers, a trendy sushi restaurant downtown, the table covered with sushi rolls, edamame shells, and chopsticks. Franco’s had actually been fun, Becca and Olivia running interference between me and the snobby saleswomen, and I had known instantly when pulling on Dress Number Three, that I had found the one I wanted. It was there, in the chandeliered, plush dressing room of Franco’s, with Becca and Olivia grinning behind me, looking in the mirror, that I felt it. Excitement. I had always been excited about marrying Brad, but it had been the marriage that I had looked forward to, not the act of getting married. The wedding had been a byproduct, one that—due to Brad’s family—I had been dreading. But there, in that dress, seeing my reflection, I felt a quiver of breathless anticipation. I allowed it, allowed visions of walking down the aisle, feeling the strength of his hand sliding a ring on my finger, words spoken, rice thrown, cake and music and toasts and dancing. And for that moment, that brief, fairytale moment, I was naively happy about the wedding.

“Earth to Julia.” Becca snapped her fingers in my face, and I scowled, pushing her hand aside and grabbing my chopsticks. “Did you hear what I said? I sent in my app to NYU.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “That’s not an application. That’s a reservation for a donation. Has your dad already stroked the check?”

Becca sputtered out a few expletives, causing Olivia and I to burst out laughing. I grabbed a napkin, passing it to Becca, and she wiped her mouth, shooting Olivia a dirty look.

“Have you decided? That’s your first choice?” I asked Becca, fighting to keep a smile off of my face.

“Pretty much.” She shrugged. “I like New York. I’m applying to UCLA also; I always wanted to be a California girl.”

Olivia snorted. “That’s smart. Choose your schools based on shopping and beaches.”

“Do I detect a bit of bitterness in your tone?” Becca asked, sharply raising an eyebrow.

“I’m still undecided,” I said brightly, trying to interrupt the incoming argument.

“Undecided? I assumed you’d stay here with me.” Olivia’s eyes honed in on me, all thoughts of over-privileged Becca forgotten.

“So did I, but Brad is pushing me to apply at other schools.” I inwardly winced, hating how the statement came out. Olivia pounced on it like a rabid dog.

“Who cares what Brad wants. What do you want?”

I shot her an irritated look. “I’m a grown woman, O. That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What I want.”

“This is bullshit, him pushing you into what he wants.”

I stared at her. “What are you
talking
about? He wants me to make the same choice I would if I was single. He doesn’t want my law school decision to be affected by our marriage. Because of his money and connections, I can look at schools I never would have been able to go to. And you’re trying to turn it into a negative? What the fuck?”

Becca started to chime in, to voice her support, but Olivia held up a hand. “Becca, stay out of this. Julia, I just don’t like how everything seems like it revolves around Brad.”

I bit back a laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement. Wasn’t that what marriage was all about? Pushing aside single life to start a new life together? It would be ridiculous not to include him in this thought process, seeing the effect my law school would have on our marriage.

I had no intention of having one of
those
marriages—two people who cohabited the same house but otherwise lived separate lives. Brad had become my best friend, the person who I shared my thoughts, dreams, and life with. He had, in the process, overshadowed Olivia. Her hostility, resistance to anything Brad-related? She tried to hide it. Times like that morning had actually succeeded, playing the role of supportive friend well. But I could feel the tension, worried over the chips and cracks that were forming in our bond. I never realized, in falling in love, that I might lose a friend in the process. She just didn’t realize the depth of emotion I had for him. No one did. We were surrounded by casual love, which found our singular focus bothersome. Now, almost nine months into our engagement, her snide comments were wearing my nerves raw. I had started to reach the stage of not caring, of indifference. I loved Olivia, had spent almost four years as her best friend. But our friendship, our connection, paled in comparison to what Brad and I had. And if she couldn’t handle the change in my life, then how strong was that friendship? I met her critical look squarely.

“I’m sorry you don’t understand my relationship,” I said tartly.

It was Becca’s turn to play peacemaker, and she jumped in with a cheery smile only to be cut off by Olivia.

“You weren’t like this with Luke. Or with any of your boyfriends for that matter. We never see you anymore.”

“Really? You’re using
Luke
as a positive example? I’m treating this relationship differently because it is different. I’m sorry I don’t go to parties anymore or stumble in and out of clubs with you and Becca. But don’t blame Brad for that. My life is changing; I’m getting married.”

She stared at me fiercely, the sushi forgotten, fire in her brown eyes. “You’re making a mistake.”

She may have been right, but not for the reasons she thought. Brad and I had our share of problems, but they all started and ended with the Magiano family, not with us.

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J
ULY

Days until the wedding: 33

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I
waited at the light, my turn signal on, Becca’s voice whining through my vehicle’s speakers. “Come tonight ... please. Your college career is about to be
over
. You have an obligation to party with me one last time before graduation.”

The light turned green. “You’re only calling me because Olivia has plans.”

“Wrong. Olivia’s coming and bringing that lacrosse player guy.”

I raised my brow. “What guy?”

“She didn’t tell you? Some guy she met in class. Be grateful, she won’t shut up about him to me. How’s Brad?”

“Good.” I don’t elaborate; there’s no need. Becca’s attention span won’t last long enough to care.

“So, are you coming? They’re closing the whole block off, and each house is gonna have a different drinking challenge.”

“Sounds brutal.”

She scoffed. “Oh please. You were chugging beers with the best of us a year ago. Now, come on ... bring Brad if you want.”

Brad
. I tried to picture him, his hands on his hips, a glowering look on his face as drunken idiots sloshed him with beer. I giggled. “How about just dinner? I can meet you at seven or eight?”

She sighed. “I guess ... if you want to miss out on the fun. But I miss drunk Julia.”

I put the car in park, glancing at my watch. “I have to go. Call O, see if she wants to grab dinner with us. I’ll call you in a few hours.”

“Fine.”

I ended the call and turned off the car, grabbing my purse and heading for the restaurant.

I took the seat across from Maria, her smile warm as she beamed at me behind the curve of a large ceramic teacup. We didn’t waste time, ordering a variety of appetizers, deciding upon sharing them in place of a full meal. And, after a half-hour of conversation, I could see why Brad’s eyes shone when he spoke of his sister. She was, as ancient as the word was, delightful. Bubbly and energetic, there was not an ounce of haughtiness or reserve in her manner. I could not fathom how she came from the stoic evil that was her father.