by Ana Huang
"Walking," I answered blithely.
He raised his eyebrows. "I can see that." Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't tell me you just came from Roman's house."
I didn't say anything.
Carlo laughed softly, his expression one of amusement and something else I couldn't place.
"Are you planning to walk all the way home?"
"Yes." I tilted my chin up. "It's good exercise."
"And a good way to get killed."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, the probability of me getting bludgeoned to death with a designer stiletto is pretty high at this time, given my current social status." I pursed my lips. "Shouldn't you be yelling insults at me right now? After all, I did offend your good buddy Roman." My voice dripped with sarcasm.
Carlo shrugged his broad shoulders. "It's not like he didn't deserve it." His mouth quirked up into a smile at my shocked expression. "Don't look so surprised. He's my friend, which means I'm well aware of both his strengths and weaknesses."
"Strengths?" I snorted. "I wasn't aware he had any."
"Yeah, well, I guess it's all relative," Carlo said rather amiably.
I cocked my head to one side as I studied him. Now that I looked more closely, he really wasn't as intimidating-looking as I'd once thought, unless you count how intimidatingly good-looking he was. His thick, wavy black hair just reached the top of his collar, framing a strong, masculine face with thick dark brows set above fathomless ebony eyes, chiseled cheekbones, and smooth olive skin. Despite the overwhelming masculinity of his appearance though, there was a touch of vulnerability that I couldn't quite put my finger on, which softened his entire look in the best way possible.
"Are you done staring at me?" Carlo's tone was wry.
I flushed. "I wasn't staring at you," I lied crossly.
"Right." He shot me a skeptical look but didn't say anything else. Instead, he looked me over, and with a sigh, said, "I'm taking you home."
"No you're not," I replied almost involuntarily. I couldn't help it—it was a knee-jerk response. Part of me still couldn't quite believe I was having a civil conversation with a Scion. I was half-convinced I was going to wake up in my bed any minute now.
Carlo draped one arm over the open window and eyed me. "I don't usually do charity cases, but you've been through more than enough already. I really don't want to hear about you getting kidnapped or raped on the news."
"What are the chances of that happening?" I demanded, bristling a bit at the term 'charity case.' I was nobody's charity case. Nevertheless, a shiver of unease went down my spine. Call me superstitious, but now I was a little afraid something was going to happen just because I voiced my opinion that it wouldn't.
Carlo shrugged. "You never know. Valesca's pretty safe, but it's dark, you're a pretty girl walking alone, and there's some crazy people out there." As if to punctuate his point, a dog howled somewhere in the background, the sound echoing eerily in the otherwise silent neighborhood.
I nearly shot into the passenger seat. "Fine, I give in," I said, buckling my seatbelt. "You can take me home."
He looked at me incredulously. "Only you would be able to make it sound like you're doing me a favor," he chortled, making a sharp U-turn that threw me against the passenger door.
"Ow," I complained. "The reason I got in was so I wouldn't get killed, you know."
"Sorry. So where do you live?"
I gave him my address, and we settled into a comfortable silence as he navigated the pristine streets.
As I stared out the window at the passing scenery, I was surprised that I really was comfortable. I had never spoken to Carlo Tevasco in my life before today, and I'd never had any desire to, but my vibes about people were generally pretty accurate. I could tell Carlo had been genuine the entire time we'd been talking, and he was a lot nicer than I thought any Scion could be. Plus, he had a sense of humor, which was always a plus.
"So, were you on your way to visit…him?" I asked, trying to utter the devil's name as few times as possible.
"No, I live there."
"Oh." I blinked. "That makes sense." Perfect sense. The area where Roman and Carlo lived was the most expensive part of town. Of course the Scions lived there.
"What type of music do you listen to?" Carlo fiddled with the radio.
"Any kind, except for country." I wrinkled my nose a little. "There are very few country songs I like."
"So which ones do you like?" He sounded curious.
I shifted in my seat. "Um…some Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood songs," I mumbled.
Carlo laughed. "Never figured you to be the type of girl who listened to Taylor Swift."
I arched one eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"I got the impression you were one tough cookie. I expected you to say heavy metal or rock."
I rolled my eyes. "Way to stereotype. Besides, do I look like a rocker to you?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes stereotypes make things a lot easier." His voice was wistful.
I was about to ask him what he meant when he abruptly changed the subject. "You know, you’re a lot nicer than I thought you’d be. How’d you manage to stay under the radar for so long?”
I actually laughed aloud at that one. I was nicer than he expected? More like he was nicer than I expected.
"Thanks…I think," I answered wryly. Feeling compelled to say something nice back, I added, "You're not as surly as I thought you were."
Another smile softened his face even more. "Thanks…I think." His tone matched mine. "I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m not a nice guy.”
"Well, for one, you barely talk in school," I pointed out. "Plus, look at who you hang out with."
"My friends are good guys. Yes, even Roman," he added at the look on my face. "In their own ways. But—" He abruptly stopped.
"But?" I prompted. I was becoming more and more comfortable around him, especially since he was one of the few people who had been even remotely nice to me this week.
"Nothing," he muttered, staring at the road straight ahead. "I already said too much."
Too much? He'd barely said anything past the superficial. Guys are just weird, I reflected. Still, the mood in the car was comforting, and I could feel myself sinking against the plush leather seat, some of the tension knots in my shoulders relaxing a little.
"Besides, you didn't answer my question."
"What question?"
Carlo stopped at a red light, and he turned to face me, the streetlight casting a faint crimson glow over his sculpted features. "How'd you manage to stay under the radar for so long?"
I shrugged. "Lots of practice and determination. Last thing I needed was to be thrust into the spotlight here."
"Most people live for the spotlight."
Like you and your friends, I wanted to say, but didn't. "Not me. It's too troublesome." My mouth thinned. "As I've learned all too well the past week."
The light turned green, and Carlo pressed on the gas, bypassing the particularly slow Lexus in front of us. He was silent for a while. "I feel like I should apologize for that."
I let out a sigh. "It's not really your fault." I couldn't believe these words were coming out of my mouth, but I meant them. Carlo had never personally hurt me, physically or otherwise. The only people I blame are the Valesca lemmings and of course, Roman Fiori.
"Not directly. But indirectly…" He paused, then seemed to shut down again. "Of course, I make it a point not to interfere with Roman's affairs." He pulled up in front of my house. I could see my mom pacing nervously in the living room window, and I winced. I was going to get a verbal beating for sure.
"Thanks for giving me a ride. I really appreciate it," I said, opening the door.
Carlo gazed at my house, taking in the small but tidy lawn, the red stucco roof, and the well-kept if modestly priced Toyota in the driveway. My father’s promotion meant we could get a nicer car, but my mom was really attached to the Camry for some reason. "How many people live in this house?"
"Just my parents and myself." I frowned. "Why?"
"You can fit three people in there?" He sounded shocked.
I let out a huff. Here I was, thinking he was actually pretty down-to-earth, and he had to go say something like that. "Of course it can," I said crossly. "We're more than comfortable."
"If you say so." He sounded unconvinced, but as he looked at me, a faint glimmer of that strange, unidentifiable look I saw earlier crept back into his eyes. "Well, it's certainly been an eye-opening night."
"I suppose." I was lingering, I knew, but I wasn't eager to go inside. Mainly it was because I didn't want my mom yelling at me, but I was also surprisingly disappointed to be saying goodbye to Carlo. I was almost certain our sort-of bonding time was a one-time experience. "Well, good night."
Carlo gave me a faint smile. "Good night." With that, he pulled out of the driveway and sped off.
Apparently, he really had been driving a lot more cautiously with me in the passenger seat.
I stood in the driveway for a moment, mulling over the day's strange events. My life had become a lot more troublesome, but at least it wasn’t boring.
Although, to be honest, excitement can be overrated.
CHAPTER 6
I shut the door behind me and smiled weakly at my mom, who looked equal parts angry, relieved, and for some reason, nervous.
“Are you ok?” was the first question she asked me.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Are you sure? No broken bones, no muggings, nothing like that?”
I sighed. “No.”
“Good. Then WHERE WERE YOU? I’ve been sick with worry! Maya, you know never to turn off your phone, especially when you’re late. You have no idea what I thought happened!”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, ashamed. “But I…uh, broke my phone my accident.” I held out the pieces as evidence, and filled her in with a very abbreviated, very modified version of what had happened.
“Fine, but you should've been more careful, Maya.” She seemed appeased though, which surprised me. Normally my mom did not let me off the hook that easily. “Well, dinner’s just about ready, so come eat.”
I followed her into the kitchen, which also doubled as a dining room, and started setting the table while she put the finishing touches on dinner.
I had just put down the last fork when I heard a key turn in the front door, and a moment later, my dad walked in, jacket off and tie loosened. He looked tired but his face lit up when he saw us.
“Daddy!” I grinned and ran over to give him a huge hug.
Ok, so yes, I was a huge daddy’s girl. Sue me.
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”
“It was good.” No need to make him worry. “How was work?”
“Boring as all hell,” he replied laughingly, walking over to give my mom a quick peck on the cheek.
“Yeah, right.” I scrunched up my nose. My dad loved his job. He had wanted to be an architect his whole life, and now he was one of the best in the state.
As we settled in at the table, I stared at my parents, feeling unbelievably lucky that they were still together and happy in a town where so many families were plagued with divorce, sordid affairs, mistresses, and children that were viewed as props more than anything else.
Plus, the way they had gotten together was so romantic.
I let out a soft sigh as I thought about it. My mom and dad had met at a street festival in San Francisco. He’d been an undergraduate at Berkeley the time, while she’d been working her family’s Chinese herbal store. My mom initially resisted his advances, but my dad remained dogged in his pursuit until he finally succeeded. The two fell in love, and my dad proposed four years later, on the anniversary of their first meeting. They’d gotten married seven months later and had me practically before the honeymoon phase was over. Now, after almost twenty years, they were still very much in love.
I played with the spaghetti on my plate. Though I didn’t particularly want a boyfriend right now, I fantasized about finding that one true love someday. I was a total sucker for cheesy, over-the-top romance.
“Maya?”
I snapped back down to earth and found myself facing my parents’ quizzical looks.
“Sorry,” I apologized.
“You’ve been spacing out so much lately.” My mom’s tone was gently reprimanding. “Did you hear what I just said?”
I shook my head.
She exchanged glances with my dad. “Your grandmother’s coming down next weekend. She’s going to be staying with us for a bit.”
I nearly choked on the glass of water I was sipping. “What?” I gasped between coughs, hoping I had just heard wrong.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t. That much was clear when my mom repeated the statement.
“Oh,” I said, my voice filled with dismay.
I noticed my dad didn’t look particularly thrilled either. Despite his meticulousness at work, he’d always been a bit scatterbrained at home, which had always put him at odds with my control-freak grandmother.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandmother and all, but she could be a little…overbearing. Basically, she’s your typical Asian grandma in every sense except she wanted me to get married and have babies very, very soon. Not that she wanted any grandchildren now, but she’s been bugging me about getting a boyfriend forever, figuring by the time I graduated college, we would have dated for a sufficient amount of time and therefore could get married. If she had her way, I would have a ring on my finger the second I walked across the stage and accepted my university diploma.
Unfortunately, my grandmother wasn’t exactly stupid, and she could see I had absolutely no intention or desire to get a boyfriend anytime soon. Instead of being dissuaded, she it upon herself to be a matchmaker and tried to set me up with every boy my age who met her standards. Every phone call and visit from her had been peppered with the mention of Jared or Tom or Wentworth. There had even been one named Sigmund.
Now, I am sure Sigmund—who I’ve never met, thank God—is a lovely boy, but if I were to date someone, he sure as hell would not be named after what I considered a rather whacked-out psychologist who spent way too much time thinking about sex.
“Anyway, it should be fun,” my mom chirped brightly, obviously trying to be optimistic. “It’ll be family bonding time.”
“Yeah. Fun.” My shoulders slumped as I thought about coming home to my grandmother trying to force yet another mathematical genius/musical prodigy/future Bill Gates on me.
One thing was clear. I needed a plan, and I needed one fast.
* * *
“Yes, I received the package.” Roman strode into his bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him. “Just in time too, or you’d have been fired.”
Without another word, he snapped his phone closed and stared at the manila envelope in his hands. In it was everything he needed to know about Maya Lindberg, from her family’s annual income to what she ice cream flavor she liked best.
Maybe there would be something in there about why he couldn’t stop thinking about her even though she was more annoying than a splattered bug on his windshield.
“Screw it,” he muttered, opening the envelope with unnecessary violence.
As he scanned the papers though, a small, smug smile slowly made its way onto his face. Of course! He should’ve known. Nobody could be that resilient without some motivation.
“So, you’re a scholarship kid,” he murmured, a new plan forming in his head. Everything was so clear and simple now. If she was needy enough to get a scholarship, then clearly she was strapped for cash. She probably thought the best way to ease her money worries was to stand out and get the attention of the richest guy in school—aka, himself.
It was actually a pretty clever plan.
Roman narrowed his eyes. If that was the case, which he was sure it was, then making her surrender had just gotten a whole lot easier…
* * *
“I’m so screwed, V.” I flopped dow
n on my bed and sighed heavily into the phone, wishing I could just transform into someone else until it was time to go to college. “I have enough problems at school without having to worry about my grandmother’s matchmaking. What am I going to do?”
Venice let out a loud sniffle, obviously still recovering from the flu. “When is she coming again?”
“Next weekend.”
“And she’s staying for how long?”
I let out another sigh. “My mom said ‘a bit’. I have no idea what that means.”
