Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol #1) - Fiona Cole Page 0,54

position you’re holding at Rush, and it’s shameful. No Mariano should be working at such an entry-level position. I—I want to offer you a job at Mariano.”

“What?” Vera asked, shocked just as much as me at the offer.

“Yes,” he went on, excitement over dangling a winning carrot in front of her speeding up his words. “A project manager. You’d be at the family company, just like you wanted.”

I held my breath waiting for her answer, more than half expecting her to say yes to what she always wanted.

“And Camden?”

“Verana,” he almost pleaded. His jaw ticked, and he dragged a hand over his mouth. “You can have time—time for Camden to prove he’s not who he acted like. But our traditions…”

“Are more important than me,” she finished for him.

“No, Verana. You’re my daughter. You’re important.”

I could only see her profile, but the sleek lines of her back straightened, flexing when she pulled her shoulders back. “No.”

“Wh-What? No? To what?”

“To all of it,” she answered coldly.

“But I’m offering what you want,” he said. “You’re my daughter—my family.”

“Exactly. But you’re still not hearing me, Papa,” she said softly.

“Mia bambina, I am hearing you. I’m giving you what you want.”

“At a cost.” Lorenzo remained silent. “Tell me, who would organize the galas?”

“Well, you,” he explained like it was an honor. “You’re the project manager. You’re skilled enough to handle them.”

“And what about when I start a family?”

“Verana,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Stop being so stubborn. I don’t even recognize you.”

“And I don’t recognize you either.” Her tone rang with strength and underlying hurt. “Maybe this is who we’ve always been.”

“No. We raised you better. We raised a woman who held pride in her family. This needs to stop, Verana.” His words lacked control, dripping with desperation. He needed her to give in. But would she?

“Thank you, but no thank you for the offer,” she finally answered. “I’m sticking with my position at Rush Shipping. They have great potential, and I’m excited to expand with them—with Nico. He’s a good man who will be a good husband.”

A knot I hadn’t known had tied itself around my lungs loosened.

She turned him down.

Not only did she turn him down, but she stood up for me in the process. I blinked, trying to process the influx of information—of feelings. It squeezed inside my chest, uncomfortably and foreign.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should find my fiancé.”

“Vera, it’s time you stopped your tantrum and call this charade off,” her father softly spoke between a forced smile, the façade fading away.

“I assure you, Mr. Mariano, our engagement is not a charade,” I said, finally stepping in.

His smile slipped, but the professional man he was refused to allow him to show his true emotions at such a public event.

I slipped my hand around Vera’s hip, extracting her from his grip, and tugged her to my side. Taking full advantage of the situation, I pressed my lips to her soft cheek and grazed my fingertips along her bare back.

She gasped, and a shiver down her spine chased my touch.

“You look breathtaking,” I said softly for her, but loud enough her father could hear. “I can only imagine how beautiful you’ll look on our wedding day.”

Red tinged her cheeks, and I fought against leaning in again to press my lips to the heat.

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Rush,” her father greeted stiffly.

“I’ll be your son-in-law soon. Please, call me Nicholas.”

“Well, Nicholas, was there a reason my daughter had to walk in alone? As her fiancé, shouldn’t you escort her?”

“Papa,” Vera reprimanded.

Lorenzo was fishing in an empty barrel for reasons to find me lacking. “It’s okay, Vera. I can see your father thinks you need a man to enter a room, but he doesn’t seem to realize that you are strong enough to stand on your own. You don’t need me. But I’m lucky you’ll have me.”

All my compliments were true, despite never having said them before. However, I said them easily with the benefit of annoying Lorenzo and winning Vera over more and more.

His nostrils flared at the slight, and for the first time since she entered the room, she looked to me. With wide, brown eyes, she looked at me like a mirage. As if she’d never had someone tell her she was strong enough all on her own. Curiosity and awe flickered in the depths, along with something more—something deeper I couldn’t quite decipher.

Whatever it was, it had me standing taller beside her. She matched my posture, and together, we created a