“You’ve been in open combat?” she asked, surprised and a little impressed. “Do you have any scars?”
“Mental or physical?”
She shrugged. “Either.”
“Both. But like I said, therapy just didn’t seem like it was gonna work out. I like to shoot things. And in our line of work we get the opportunity to do that. And get paid well for it, so it’s a win-win.”
“So, you and your brother do this together? Is your brother like you?”
“No.” He paused to grin. “He’s not as nice.”
At that she laughed. “Wow. Thanksgiving dinner around your table must be pretty fun.”
“Yeah, well, we’re not big on the holiday scene. Neither of us make a big deal out of that stuff because we never really had it growing up.” A moment passed between them before he pulled himself out of his own thoughts to switch his attention back to her. “What do you do for fun when you’re not out there playing into the stereotype?”
“And what stereotype would that be?” she asked drily. “And here I thought we were off to a good start. You just don’t know how to be nice, do you?”
“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I can’t seem to watch my mouth around you. Tell me what you do for fun.”
“I do whatever I want to do.” Damn it, now she was the one being defensive. But what could she say? She did love her life. Might as well own it. “I shop. I party.” That’s what he expected her to say, anyway. As if he would believe her if she told him that she actually wanted to design shoes like her father. Besides, that was private. She wasn’t going to share that with Rian and run the risk of being mocked. “This was a stupid idea, to chitchat. We obviously have nothing in common.”
“Don’t get your panties twisted. We just seem to set each other off for some reason. I’m interested in knowing more about you—the real you. I’m listening if you want to try again.”
She eyed him with suspicion. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”
“I don’t say a thing I don’t mean. Go ahead, tell me something interesting about yourself.”
CoCo took a moment to think, then said, “Well, I speak fluent Italian, decent French and a tiny bit of Russian.”
His brows rose. “That is impressive. Benefit of being shuttled between parents who live on opposite continents?”
“Mostly. But European school systems are different than here in the States. It’s just natural for most kids to speak more than one language. I don’t want to sound superior anything but the European school system is much more rigorous.”
“Makes sense. Although if I was required to learn more than one language I probably would’ve failed high school. English was hard enough.” He chuckled. “But that’s actually kind of cool that you’re fluent in so many other languages.”
She smiled. “It comes in handy when ordering in fancy restaurants. I’m usually the only one who knows what I’m actually ordering.”
He laughed. “Are you the designated orderer when you go to restaurants with your friends?”
She nodded. “Yes. But I don’t mind. I like being helpful when I can.”
That must’ve amazed him. “Tell me something else about yourself that would surprise me.”
“Why?” Were they actually having a decent conversation? She wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. Keeping a professional distance might help with the annoying flits of excitement tickling her stomach each time she caught him smiling. He had nice, kissable lips when he wasn’t being a colossal toad. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that we’re not trying to kill each other right now but I’m not quite sure why you’re suddenly being so nice.”
He sighed, stretching out his legs as he confessed, “Look, I was a jerk when we first met. There’s something about you that gets under my skin. I grew up really poor. I’m talking the kind of poverty that no one likes to think about. It makes it hard to see all these people who have so much act so crappy to their fellow human beings. I’ve always believed that if you have extra you should give a little extra. But that doesn’t seem to be the prevailing attitude around here. Los Angeles is a whole other world and not a very generous one from what I can see.”
“I try to donate when I can. I mean, I don’t do it as much as I should but I have a few charities that I like to donate to.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re an heiress and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, but when I was growing up I went days without food. My old man was a bastard drunk, and a mean one at that. If it weren’t for my older brother—well, let’s just say I probably wouldn’t be here today. Being hungry is something kids should never have to experience. There are basic rights a human being should have and food is one of them.”
CoCo didn’t know how to respond. She’d never gone a day in her life knowing the pangs of hunger. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that. You’re right, every kid deserves food. But that’s really no reason to take it out on me just because I didn’t experience the same kind of childhood. I don’t mean to ruin this nice moment we’re having but you came at me with an attitude from the moment we met. And it wasn’t really fair. You didn’t know me from anyone and you judged me.”
“True,” he admitted. “However, I hate to say this but I wasn’t too far off the mark. I might’ve come off a little brusque but you were worse. What’s that say about you?”
“It says that I don’t like strangers crashing my party,” she answered coolly. “If I was nice to every single person who just randomly walked up to me, who knows who I’d be inviting into my life? I might not know what it’s like to live in extreme poverty but you don’t know what it’s like to live with extreme wealth. People can’t be trusted most times. Your inner circle becomes smaller and smaller and it’s out of necessity, not because you don’t like people. You never know who wants to rip you off.”
He was openly confused. “If that was the case, why did you have a house filled with people that you didn’t even know? You can’t tell me that all those people who came to your party are your personal friends. I guarantee half of those people were only there because they wanted to say they’d attended a CoCo Abelli party. I hate to break it to you, princess, but you have a reputation and it isn’t a pretty one.”
She blinked. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Why do you think the paparazzi follow you? It’s because you’re always getting yourself into trouble. Getting drunk, wardrobe malfunctions, partying too hard...it paints a picture.”
“It’s not my fault that photographers follow me around,” she said bitterly, embarrassed. “What if someone with a camera was always in your face every time that you went out? You can’t tell me that you haven’t made mistakes, maybe drank a little too much or whatever with friends. I make a mistake and it ends up all over the tabloids. That’s not my fault.”
“I’m sorry I don’t buy the ‘poor me’ routine. You put yourself in these positions and they capitalize on them. You say I don’t know what it’s like to have extreme wealth, you’re right. I don’t. But I know for certain I wouldn’t be out getting drunk and giving the paparazzi so much to work with.”
“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s an expectation and understanding that if you run in certain circles you’re going to have to