All Chapters of Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

At seven twenty-one, my walk-in closet had turned into a fashion tribunal with one defendant: me.Gabriella sat on the cream velvet ottoman in the middle of the room, her little legs crossed, a pink plastic crown tilted on her head, and an expression far too serious for someone who still believed pasta could be a royal color.In her hand was an empty powder compact she’d taken from the bottom drawer because, according to her, “fashion people need tools,” even though the only tool she’d truly mastered so far was looking at people like they had personally disappointed civilization.On the carpet, Alvaro was lying on his stomach taking apart something that very clearly did not belong to him. I knew it wasn’t his because it was gold, small, and made a suspicious clicking sound every time he poked it with one of my hairpins.“Alvaro.”He didn’t lift his head. “Hmm?”“What is that?”“Machine.”“What kind of machine?”“It’s from your drawer.”I looked at him through the vanity mirror, one ey

The entire drive to Nob Hill, Rafael and I somehow managed to turn a simple conversation about an A-plus reward into a full parliamentary hearing over whether a four-year-old needed a microscope that could connect to an iPad, because the answer was obviously no, while according to Rafael, “he’s interested in science” was apparently a sufficient financial argument. When I reminded him that Al had also once been interested in sticking a grape up his nose, Rafael just rolled his eyes and told me I made everything too complicated.Which, naturally, made me spend the next five minutes explaining that he was the one with no concept of moderation because billionaires heard the words gift and somehow translated them into something with a serial number and an insurance policy.Eventually, he leaned his head back against the seat, jaw tight, staring out the window with his annoyed face, “It’s a microscope, Arabella, not uranium.”I crossed my legs and smiled sweetly. “Good. We’re making progres

“Axel.” His name left my mouth with a strange feeling, like putting on a perfume I used to love and finding it again five years later in the back of a drawer. Familiar, a little too close to the skin, carrying too many things with it before I’d even decided whether I wanted to remember them.Axel was still standing where he was.He looked at me a few seconds longer than politeness allowed, his eyes moving slowly from my face to my hair, dipping briefly to my dress, then coming back to my eyes like he was still trying to match the woman in front of him with the girl he’d last seen in a Stanford hoodie, ripped jeans, and an expression that suggested she wanted to murder a compiler.I let out a laugh because the silence was starting to develop a personality of its own. “Hi, stranger.”I stepped closer and held out my hand.Axel looked at my hand, then at my face. “Oh, come on.”He ignored my hand and pulled me into a hug.My body went stiff immediately because my brain had been expecting

Axel looked at me, then at Rafael, and a his smile appeared. “Well,” he said. “Good.”I wanted to say something.Several somethings.But the host appeared at the exact same moment, Mrs. Caldwell in pearls, a sharp smile, and an emerald dress that probably required armed insurance. She greeted Rafael with two air kisses, touched my hand with perfect social warmth, then told us how “lovely” it was that we could come, because apparently lovely now meant walking into a party, nearly landing a new contract, running into an ex-boyfriend, then getting officially certified as happy by your amnesiac husband. San Francisco old money really had its own vocabulary.We talked to the Caldwells for a few minutes. I laughed in the right places. Said thank you in the right places. Answered questions about GALA with enough detail to sound like a CEO instead of Rafael’s marital decoration.Rafael stood beside me with that neat, expensive kind of coldness, answering business questions with clipped precis

The kiss should have stopped there.It should have.I already had more than enough reasons to pull back, put a palm against Rafael’s chest, tell him this was a bad idea.But he kissed me again before the part of my brain that still had a Stanford degree managed to take over.My hand was still twisted in his shirt when his mouth came back down on mine, deeper, and I opened for him immediately without being asked. His tongue slid against mine slowly that was way too familiar, completely without hesitation.I grabbed the back of his neck.Rafael made a low sound in his throat, and his hand tightened around my waist.Fuck. I knew that sound. Or my body did.Either way, equally bad.I kissed him harder, my fingers sliding into his dark hair and ruining whatever part of it had still been remotely party-appropriate, while he moved forward until I had to take one step back.My heel hit something.“Oh, fu—” I lost my balance.I landed on the mattress with a soft thump, my black dress riding hi