#1: It's Nice To Meet You

"All I hear about his boss is shit."

 "Language, Jude!"

 I slumped further against the couch as my mother's shrill warning drifted across the kitchen and into the living room. My fingers fumbled across the sleek remote, a sign of my suppressed anxiety.

 My older brother was bringing his boss over for dinner. Despite the fact that I had never met Nole’s boss, I heard plenty about him. Well, that wasn't all true. Nole only praised his boss and never divulged anything personal. But I remembered all those Christmases and holidays when Nole had to stay after-hours for his boss as well as those late nights when he'd come home looking like shit.

 I guess the real reason I despised his boss was because he took my brother away from me. Ever since Nole started working for the man, he'd distanced himself from me—from our family. Our friendship had weakened and stretched thin the exact day Nole came home, sharing the news that he worked for Roman DeLuca.

 Roman DeLuca.

 The man was an asshole.

 His name even sounded like he'd be an arrogant prick.

 I clenched my jaw. "Do I really have to be here? I have homework to do for tomorrow."

 My father stood in front of the television as he adjusted his tie. His height was impressive. Being around him and my brother gave me the constant reminder that I was the smallest of the family and not likely to grow anytime soon, if at all. I gazed up at him casually, feigning boredom at his daunting, looming presence.

 "You've never taken such an interest in homework before. You should have done it earlier when you got home." He knotted the black tie around his neck. "You'll do well to behave in front of Mr. DeLuca, Jude. Do you understand me?"

 His dark, brown gaze drilled into mine, and while I tried to challenge his stare, I found myself powerless. Reluctantly, I dropped my gaze, knowing when to push and when to heel. Though, to be honest, it was always submission with him.

 "Yes, father," I responded dully.

 Through lowered lashes, I watched him walk away, taking his tall, dark, and handsome looks with him. My family were all tall and beautiful with dark hair and eyes. I, on the other hand, was gifted with messy dark-blond hair and green eyes. My height also left much to be desired. I stood exactly two inches shorter than my own mother.

 It—I—was an anomaly.

 My mother proclaimed I took after my grandmother.

 My paternal grandfather moved from Italy to America. Here, in Rhode Island, my grandfather and father had built a name for the Harlows. I don't know much about my heritage, hell, I didn't really care about the family name. I was only half-interested when I learned my grandmother was a British woman with blonde hair and green eyes.

 She was a good woman, and not one who should have met the end that she had.

 She, along with my grandfather, had been murdered a few years prior.

 A commercial for cheap airfares caught my attention, reminding me that I was leaving the house this summer. I was currently seventeen and attending my last year at high school. I had been offered a full scholarship to Boston University for my grade point average and entrance exam scores, as well as my speed on the track team.

 Before I could get lost in the world of reality tv, the doorbell rang.

 In the kitchen, I heard my mother hurriedly finishing off her lemon bars. Her heels clicked across the marble floor and toward the entryway. We were all dressed up for this meaningless dinner. My ratty jeans had been thrown in the trash by my father when I first attempted to wear them tonight. I would have to remember to salvage them before they went out to the bin.

 My fingers tugged irritably at my dress shirt and ironed trousers. When my stomach growled with anticipation, I was reminded of the only reason I was looking forward to this evening. My mother didn't cook often, especially not Italian food, usually leaving the cooking up to a personal chef we hired occasionally or boxed Mac 'n' Cheese and frozen vegetables.

 I had to savor this as much as possible.

 "Jude!" my mother called in a sing-song voice.

 I could hear the warning in her sugary tone. Of course she would pull me away from the background and into the uncomfortable spotlight. Hell, if it were up to me, I would ask for a plate of dinner and sneak upstairs. It wasn't like I had anything insightful or meaningful to add to the conversation tonight.

 Rubbing my sweaty palms on my pants, I stood up and slowly made my way up to the entrance way. The crystal chandelier sparkled in the dim atmosphere, casting dizzying shadows across the small foyer.

 I faltered.

 In my imagination, Mr. DeLuca was an old guy with balding hair and a big belly hanging over his pant line. But he stood before me, appearing just a bit older than my brother, who had just turned twenty-years-old. What kind of job did my brother have that would involve heeding orders from someone so young? I wasn't told much about Nole’s job, only that it paid decent and involved accounting and law.

 Roman DeLuca had just finished shaking my father's hand. My attention dropped to the black onyx ring on his pinkie. It had a sort of crest engraved on it, but I couldn't exactly catch what it was from this distance away. Feigning disinterest, I looked up at the man, noticing DeLuca had already noticed my presence.

 He looked me up and down and I shifted with unease.

 My mother placed a hand on my shoulder. "This is my son, Jude. Jude, this is Mr. DeLuca."

 I noticed DeLuca didn't correct my mother and tell her to 'just call me Roman'.

 What a stuck-up asshole.

 Coldly, I returned DeLuca's piercing stare. The man wasn't breathtakingly handsome, but unfortunately, he wasn't ugly either. He had dark hair, but that was unsurprising. The black locks were cut short and parted neatly as if he had never experienced a bad hair day in his life. He possessed sharp, aristocratic features and thin lips. The eyes that leered were a dark brown, possibly a black.

 Overall, his posture, his looks, and the smirk on his face made it clear he was an arrogant bastard. As if I had any doubts before, I instantly disliked him.

 "Nice to meet you, little Harlow. I heard so much about you from Nolan."

 Nolan.

 I had to remind myself that was my brother's real name.

 Roman DeLuca's voice was rich and clear as he held out a well-manicured hand.

 The hand appeared as if it hadn't seen a day of work in his life.

 I looked at the fingers frigidly. "Mr. DeLuca," I greeted and shook the offered hand. His hand was cold to my warm. I slowly looked up at him, noticing a tight smirk on his face. "It's nice to meet you."

 I tried to let go. His grip tightened once on my hand before he was the one to let go. Fucking hell. I hadn't thought there was anyone more arrogant than my father. Obviously, when I came to that conclusion, I hadn't yet met Roman DeLuca.

 As soon as my hand was free, I brushed it not-so-subtly on my pants.

 My mother cleared her throat while my father shot me a disapproving look. "Let's go into the study and pour a glass of wine before dinner." My mother bustled out of the room, her dark eyes glancing once at me. It was all in her look. She was telling me to behave. My father followed her, leaving DeLuca and my brother in the entrance way.

 I stood there awkwardly, glancing at my older brother. His shoulders seemed impossibly broad in his dinner coat and his dark hair seemed to have grown slightly.

 "Jude." Nole grinned and stepped forward. With a hard 'thump' to my back, he chuckled. I jerked slightly from the forceful hit and glared at my feet. "It's good to see you again. We don't get much time to spend together anymore."

 "I haven't noticed," I replied bitterly, glancing at his boss.

 The man stood conceitedly with his hands in his pockets, seemingly unabashed as he stared at me.

 Nole gave another dark chuckle. His demeanor was no longer carefree, like it had been years ago, but rather serious and grim. When he tried to be 'carefree', he came off as sinister. That creepy chuckle really wasn't doing him any favors.

 With a rough hand, he messed up my hair, gripping my shoulder and pulling me toward the study. I dimly noticed how his body angled protectively in front of his boss, as if I would somehow attack the man. I grew perplexed as Roman trailed directly behind me.

 Even with my back turned, I could feel his eyes on me.