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Chapter 7
Matt
Son! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” my father says as he stumbles toward me.
“Well, you found me.” I grab hold of my dad’s arm to keep him steady. Smells like someone already hit up a bar before arriving here and disgust fills me. I’m pissed that he would show up to one of the most important nights of my life and my career, drunk as hell.
But what did I expect? Not like he cares about me, or my reputation; he’s such a selfish old bastard.
“Where’s the wine?” he asks loudly, drawing the attention of more than one partygoer. “I want a sample of that shit you’re brewing.”
He can’t even get the terms right. “I think you should lay off the booze for a while,” I say as I try to steer him toward the table laden with food. He needs to eat something and drink some black coffee, anything to soak up all that alcohol coursing through his system and sober him up somewhat.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He jerks his arm out of my hold and heads toward the table I wanted him to go to in the first place, grabs a small plate, and starts loading up on endless appetizers.
I follow after him, keeping close, smiling and chatting with everyone I recognize or know. I feel like I can’t leave my father’s side, which is such total bullshit, especially because I had to leave a perfectly willing woman back in my office.
Not that I should’ve been fooling around with a woman in my office when I had a party going on out here but...
My mind drifts to Bryn and how good she’d felt in my arms. I’d had my hand beneath her dress only moments ago, touching her breast, playing with her nipple, and she hadn’t protested. No, she’d arched into my touch, little sounds of pleasure escaping her. She looked amazing in that dress, her long hair down, her lips parted as she gasped when I gently pinched.
Hell. I want more. I wanted to take her back to my place, strip her out of that dress, and kiss every inch of her naked skin. Instead, I’m babysitting my drunken dad.
Fuck, life is really unfair sometimes.
“Quite the spread you got here,” Dad says, clutching his already overflowing plate. “How much did this cost you anyway?”
Damn it, I want to die of embarrassment, his voice is so loud. “Don’t worry, Dad, I have it under control,” I reassure him.
“Little snot, won’t tell me how much money you’re spending on this fancy, good-for-nothing shindig. Not that it matters. I don’t care what you do with your money. I already gave you your piece of my pie but that’s it. I’m cutting you off. You’ll have to earn everything else, fair and square.” He lurches toward me, his plate nearly goes flying, and I take it from him, wait while he readjusts himself and stands up straighter.
White hot anger flows through my veins, setting my blood on fire. I want to kill him. Wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until he’s not breathing any longer. Not that I could do such a thing, but every time he acts like this, which is pretty much every time I see him, he makes me hate him more.
It’s a lot more complicated than that though, my relationship with my dad. I also love him. Still seek out his approval despite how much trouble he causes.
And Vinnie DeLuca causes an enormous amount of trouble everywhere he goes.
“Let’s find you somewhere to sit,” I tell my dad, grabbing hold of his arm again and leading him toward the tables where guests sit and eat. He jerks against my hold, muttering a string of curse words in protest, but I ignore him. The old man might be the same size as me, but I’m younger and stronger.
“You’re manhandling me like you’re gonna kick me out of here, son,” he says when I push him into a seat. Thank God this table is empty. I don’t need him spouting off to other guests.
“Just trying to help you out, Dad,” I say through my clenched teeth. Glancing around, I check to see if anyone is watching, specifically anyone from the media, but for the most part, no one’s acknowledging us.
Thank God.
“Mr. DeLuca! It’s a pleasure meeting you.” Bryn appears in front of the table, an angel in magenta clutching a white coffee mug. The smile on her face is as bright as her eyes, and she shoots me a knowing look before she returns her attention to my father.
“Well, well, who’s this pretty young thing?” Dad takes the mug from her and sips, wincing when he discovers what it is. “Coffee?”
“Decaf. And laced with whiskey.” She winks at him, then winks at me, and I know she’s full of absolute crap, just saying that to make him happy. God, I could hug her for this. Kiss her.
Not that I need an excuse to kiss Bryn. My body is still humming from our shared kisses.
“Thank you,” Dad says gratefully as he drinks from the cup, finishing off half of it in a couple of swallows. “It’s good.”
“Miss James is notorious for making the best cup of coffee around,” I say, hoping she can hear the gratitude in my voice.
“You know her, son?”
