publicity was sufficient to keep my father’s PR people busy, and so far, shareholders were pleased with my handling of the “project,” so I hadn’t made any of those idiotic trash magazines retract anything.
Yet.
My patience was wearing thin where Letizia was concerned, however, and I wanted to be done with this stupid assignment so I could get home—and yes, possibly explore what Arella and I could have, if given a chance.
Eventually, I unlocked my fingers and walked up the driveway to the front door. As I did, I noticed another vehicle parking, and I glanced over. Several guys I didn’t recognize in dress slacks and button-up shirts exited the SUV. I heard one of them say Arella’s name, and I gritted my teeth as jealousy hit me dead center in the gut.
Angrily, I hit the doorbell, and moments later, Braxton Collins opened the door. He gave me a dispassionate once-over before stepping back. “Figured you would have been on a plane by now.”
“My flight isn’t until early tomorrow,” I informed him as I stepped into the huge house. I probably shouldn’t even have taken the time to come home for this funeral, but I’d dropped everything and rushed to get back to my girl.
Gritting my teeth, I reminded myself that she wasn’t “my girl” yet. I needed to take care of work first, and then I could come back and make her mine.
I’d been to the Stevensons’ home plenty of times in the past to hang out with Arella, but after that look Drake Stevenson had given me earlier, I wasn’t sure if I was going to be so openly welcomed any longer. I didn’t know what that was about, but it made my gut clench that maybe I’d fucked up in a major way.
Braxton started to close the door just as the guys from the SUV walked up onto the porch. Hearing their voices, Arella’s brother-in-law jerked the door open once again then sighed in annoyance. “You idiots again,” he muttered but stepped back.
“Hey, man,” the guy I’d heard speak Arella’s name greeted. “How’s my girl holding up?”
I fisted my hands at my sides. What the fuck had he just said? No fucking way he’d called my girl his.
Trying to temper my anger and jealousy, I found myself blinking at the douchebag who was still talking. He was tall, but a few inches shorter than me. His shoulders were on the leaner side of muscular, but there was a cockiness to him that made him seem larger than he really was. His chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and the cocky tilt to his chin made me want to put a fist through his pretty face.
“Braxton, honey, is everything…okay?” Arella’s mom’s voice drifted off as her honey-brown eyes landed on me. Her lips pressed into a hard line, reinforcing my trepidation that I’d screwed up somehow, before her gaze traveled to the other guys still standing in the doorway. “Hi, Lyle…and Lyle’s friends.” She gave a grim smile. “Well, Arella will be glad to see all your handsome faces. Please come in. She’s helping out in the kitchen right now if you want to grab something to snack on.”
Lyle took a moment to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. Stevenson. I’m really sorry about your dad. He was a cool guy.”
Lana’s chin trembled for a moment before she forced it to stop. “He was,” she agreed in a choked voice. Clearing her throat, she waved her hand. “Please make yourselves at home.”
When they took a step toward the kitchen, I moved faster, feeling a desperate need to reach Arella before Lyle did.
I heard her voice before I even reached the kitchen door. The soft, almost musical sound that always eased something tight within me. A small laugh reached my ears, and I ached to wrap my fingers around that sound so I could always hold on to it.
Entering the kitchen, I found Arella and all three of her sisters helping the caterers set up a buffet-style lunch. Wiping her hands on a towel, Arella stood close to Nevaeh as they watched Heavenleigh and Bliss finish taking lids off of huge containers.
“Douchebag at two o’clock,” Heavenleigh muttered, and her older sisters turned in my direction.
Nevaeh’s blue-gray eyes landed on me from behind a pair of glasses that took up most of her face and narrowed. I barely met her gaze before turning straight back to Arella. She’d changed from the simple, knee-length black dress she’d worn to the funeral into a pair of