1
MARIA
A huge smile fills my face as I hug my best friend. “Get all pampered so I can sell your ass and make a ton of money for the kids!”
“Will do.” Sybil hugs me tight. “I wish you were coming with me.” She puffs her lower lip out into a fake pout and looks at me with dopey eyes. “Please …”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump. The screen lights up with my mother's name, taking my mood from cheerful to tense in less than a second.
The incoming text flattens my smile into a slash of apprehension. In less than five minutes, my bright and cheery day will turn dour and depressing.
“I’ve got lunch with MD.” I take a step back and respond to the text.
“I don’t envy your weekly luncheon with your mother.”
“Wish I could play hooky.”
Muriel Rossi, matriarch of the Rossi family, is a formidable woman. Our weekly luncheon is an event I can’t escape.
I’ve tried.
Luncheon doesn’t quite capture the gist of our weekly interaction. It’s more of a sparring match, where we trade verbal blows.
Trade?
If trade means I’m her verbal punching bag, then I’ve got that bit down. It’s a one-sided battle, where she fires volley after volley, and I soak it all in with little to no retaliation.
I put a lot of effort into winning our war of wills. Each time, I fail.
Is that a dramatic statement? Maybe?
But it’s true.
A real sense of dread twists at my insides. Time to put my emotional armor in place.
Sybil senses my unease and wraps me in a hug. “It’s one hour. You’ll survive.” She releases me, clasps both my hands, and gives a squeeze of support. “I’d come with if I thought it would help.” Sybil’s smile shines bright with the power to turn any frown upside down.
It works wonders on me. Before I know it, my cheeks hurt from the grin she puts there.
“You’re right. I can survive anything, even lunch with Mommy Dearest.”
“There you go.” Sybil playfully punches my arm. “I’ll see you later tonight. You can tell me how horrible she was to you. As for tonight, I never thought you’d be my pimp.”
“Pimp?” I say. “Who’s calling who a pimp? You’re the great matchmaker.”
“Got me there. Although, it never did any good with you.”
All through college, Sybil tried again and again to set me up. Nothing lasted more than a few dates.
“Not my fault. You know my mother …”
“Yes, MD is the very definition of a kill joy.”
MD is the term we use when speaking about my mother, Mommy Dearest. It’s not an endearment.
“For the record…” Sybil holds up a finger. “I never asked anyone to pay for a date with you, so you can’t call me your pimp. You’re literally making these men bid on me.”
“It’s for a good cause. Besides, you’re well compensated.”
After graduation, Sybil came to work as an intern at the Belvedere.
Which is funny.
It’s an entry-level position.
The funny part is that, like me, her family owns an exclusive resort in Hawaii. She’ll be stepping into the same CEO shoes I wear, but her father wants her to work a year someplace else—to see how things are done differently—before heading home to run her family’s business.
“Not complaining, and with the Belvedere picking up the tab, I’m all in. Besides, it’s for the children.” Sybil flicks her luxurious, dark hair over her shoulder.
I envy that hair.
“As for pampering,” Sybil says, “I booked the full spa experience—on you.”
“The hottie who bids on you tonight is going to be one lucky bastard.” I can’t help but tease.
“I wish. With my luck, I’ll get a fat toad who sweats like a pig.”
“I don’t think pigs sweat, and who cares if he’s a fat toad? Not to mention, that’s a horrible thing to say about anyone. You grew up in the hospitality industry, girl, and know better.”
“I’m kidding.” Sybil rolls her eyes, dramatically flicking her lashes, then fluttering them suggestively. “I’ll make his night.”
“I’m sure you will. Consider this a test of everything you’ve learned.”
“Oh, I know.” Sybil props a hand on her hip. “Why aren’t you in the lineup? Bet you’d be the biggest draw of the night. The only Rossi heir? Men will be tripping over themselves to get to you.”
If only that were the case.
“Three reasons.” I hold up my index finger and begin counting. “First, only interns get auctioned off. Two, I’m the CEO, and three …”
Sybil cuts me off. “Mommy Dearest would be aghast if her daughter ever hit an auction block, even if it’s for charity.” She presses her hands to her cheeks with dramatic flair. “The scandal.”
“Exactly.” I shove Sybil playfully. “Now, hurry up or you’re going to be late for your very important date.”
“You quoting the White Rabbit?”
“Goofball.”
“Spoilsport.”
“MD’s going to be here any minute. Unless you want to suffer her disapproving glare, I suggest you skedaddle.” I squint, attempting to match my mother’s signature look of disapproval. It’s a sharp edge that cuts deep.
Always has.
“Oh hell no.” Sybil spins toward the door. “I’m out.”
Sybil and my mother never bonded. Not like I did with Sybil’s mom.
At first, my mother welcomed Sybil into our home. She was wonderful about making sure my friend felt like she was part of our family, but something changed after Sybil and I turned sixteen.
We never figured out what happened, what unforgivable crime Sybil committed, but after our sweet sixteen, mom’s demeanor did a complete 180 when it came to Sybil.
“With the threat of running into MD, I am over and out, boss.” Sybil snaps to attention and rewards me with a goofy salute. Her lilting laughter is as pretty as her hapa roots.
Hapa.
That’s a word I learned when we first met.
We were almost twelve.
My father, God rest his soul, booked a trip for me and my mother to Hawaii for the summer—the entire summer. As a twelve-year-old, I found that mortifying. They wanted me to leave my friends behind and head to a godforsaken island where I knew nobody. Not to mention, I would spend my birthday alone, surrounded only by adults.
To a preteen, it was the kiss of death. I hated my parents for subjecting me to such unwarranted punishment. I begged to stay behind, but my father wanted me to have an experience that didn’t involve spending yet another summer at our house in the Hamptons.
I like our house in the Hamptons.
That trip to Hawaii turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.
Sybil and I hit it off right away. Daughter of the resort owners, Sybil’s mother is native Hawaiian by birth: dark hair, tanned skin, dark eyes. Her father is as Scandinavian as they come: tall, piercing blue eyes, fair skin, and handsome.
Hapa means mixed.
The combination of Hawaiian and Scandinavian genes created an incredible beauty in my friend. Eyes the color of the turquoise waters of her island home—a sea foam green—she’s blessed with the thick hair of her Polynesian heritage. It’s long, wavy, and hangs all the way to her ass. Sybil is a siren, born to break men’s hearts.