Opened Up Read online

  Opened Up

  Eva Moore

  Copyright © 2018 by Eva Moore

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design by Render Compose

  Editing by Jennifer Graybeal, JenGraybeal.com and Julia Ganis, JuliaEdits.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  For K~

  May you always listen to your dreams and stay brave enough to chase them.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Eva Moore

  Chapter 1

  If one more thing hits my desk today, I’m going to snap.

  Sofia Valenti cradled her aching head in her hands and questioned the wisdom of working with family once again. Joining Valenti Brothers Construction had always been her dream. But since Gabe’s death, that dream had become a nightmare.

  She pushed aside the stack of time cards she needed to process for payroll to give the contracts her cousin Seth had dropped off a first read-through. Dropping her cheater glasses down from their perch atop her head, she squinted at the fine print. Seth and his best friend, Nick Gantry, were incorporating their custom woodworking business into the larger family firm, and the details of the deal fell, as usual, onto Sofia’s desk. The thought of woodworking drew her mind to the purchase order for cabinets that had landed on her desk late in the day. Needing to get that done so it could be filled first thing, she pulled it from the stack and laid it on top of the thick folder of legalese. The contract could wait.

  Perfect. The order form was only half filled out. She clicked her computer screen awake and opened the supplier’s website, while she let a soothing stream of curse words flow through her mind. Now she’d waste precious minutes looking up part numbers that damn well should have been filled in. This was not how she envisioned using her double degrees in Business Administration and Interior Design. Her thoughts drifted to the naïve but tempting dream she’d shoved into the back of her mind the day after Gabe died: the pretty, airy design studio, a waitlist of clients eager for her services, her father’s respect. All of these goals had taken a back seat when her mother had lost her eldest son and fallen apart. She carefully tucked the dream away and turned her mind back to the pain-in-the-ass order.

  Someone had needed to step in and keep the place running while her parents had dealt with their grief. Bills and contractors needed to be paid, and she’d needed a temporary job while she got her design business up and running. That had been three years ago. Truth be told, the mind-numbing work had gotten her through the worst of her grief after Gabe died, but now she needed more.

  Basic cabinet package, bulk drawer pulls, the same retractable faucet kit they put in every house. The list never varied much. Valenti Brothers stood for good work at affordable prices, and their orders reflected that ethos. Though it hurt her creative soul, at least the part numbers were easy to find bookmarked on the site. With a few clicks, the order was entered, approved, and in queue for payment. If she was going to be stuck doing the office work, at least she could do it well.

  As her mother and father, Josephine and Domenico Valenti, argued over how to pull back from the company and retire, the bulk of the day-to-day responsibilities fell on Sofia’s shoulders. It had been months since she’d played with a design. No one even knew that she was available for design consults, because Dad never told anyone. Frustration weighed heavily on her mind as she tucked the PO into the appropriate file and pulled the contract back in front of her.

  The legalese began to blur, and her glasses fogged over. She pushed the glasses back into her hair and blinked away the tears. God, she needed a break. A week at the beach would do. Hell, even a weekend over in Monterey would work. The soothing waves and brisk sea air would clear out the cobwebs in her mind. Since that wouldn’t be happening any time soon, she hauled in a deep breath and reached into her emergency drawer. Her stash of snack-sized candy bars was flush, and she chose one with care. Almond Joy. She could certainly use a little joy today. She unwrapped the candy and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

  She wouldn’t mind a little action involving nuts either, but she’d have to get out of the office regularly for that to happen. What had seemed like a temporary drought of male interest was turning into full-on climate change. The Almond Joy disappeared before she had a chance to taste it, so she reached for a mini 100 Grand. This time she focused on the chocolaty, sugary goodness filling her mouth and soothing her scrambling mind.

  A hundred grand would certainly be nice right about now. If she had some reserves, she could finally get out from under her father’s thumb. When she’d started, having everything wrapped up with a neat little bow had seemed ideal. The plan was simple: work for the family business, live in a family property rent-free, pull a small salary to cover expenses but not drain their coffers, with the understanding that someday she’d have equity in the firm and would make commissions from her design work. Now that little bow was pulling tighter around her neck every day, and her father didn’t understand that she was suffocating.

  If she was ever going to make a name for herself, she needed capital to invest and time to design. Right now, her bank account was crying by the end of the month. As long as she was stuck at this desk, trudging through paperwork and indulging in pity parties, her account was going to keep weeping.

  Enough. She slid the drawer closed and double-checked her planner. Two more hours before she could knock off for the family meeting her dad and Zio Tony had called. At least she knew she wouldn’t have to rely on her freezer for dinner. Family meetings always took place around her mother’s table, laden with food. She put her head down to focus on her remaining tasks, despite the images of her mom’s lasagna triggering her salivary glands and tempting her to open the drawer just one more time.

  Giving up on the contract until her brain was fresh, she rearranged her desk for the eighteenth time and began the rote task of entering payroll. In all her years of being the older sister, she had learned that she needed to leave on time. Enzo and Frankie would inhale more than their fair share if she was late. After the day she’d had, that was not happening.

  Adrian Villanueva heard the muttered curses as he pushed open Sofia’s office door. That didn’t bode well for his request, but he didn’t have a choice. The tile that had arrived at the Chu project wasn’t right, and he needed Sofia to call the supplier and sort it out before the warehouse closed for the weekend. He couldn’t fall behind on that job, or it’d set off a chain reaction of delays and angry customers as his other sites suffered. He protected the Valenti Brothers’ reputation as if he’d earned it himse
lf.

  Taking his life in his hands, he strode up to the prickly office manager’s desk with a grin on his face. It wasn’t a hardship to smile at Sofia Valenti. For years, he’d had to remind himself that, no matter how touchable her soft blonde waves looked or how her blue eyes twinkled at his jokes, she was off-limits. When he’d started working for her father as a teenage dropout, she’d been a sixteen-year-old stunner, and she’d only improved with age. Despite the fact that she was now old enough to choose her own partners, she was still the boss’s daughter. He wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Dom Valenti, certainly not while he worked up the courage to ask for the keys to his future. But in this case, his smile was wasted. She hadn’t even looked up. He tried a different tactic in his charm offensive.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, her manic fingers still flying across her number pad. The stack of time cards rapidly moved from one pile to another, her rhythm unbroken.

  “I need your help.”

  “Get in line.” He knew the snark was meant to be sarcastic. That was the usual tone she took with him, but the furrow between her brows looked like it was carved in granite. He wanted to smooth it away with his thumb, but he had a firm no-touching rule. The last thing he needed was to lose his precious restraint around her, and giving in to his impulse would trigger exactly that.

  Focus on the problem. Get in, get out.

  “The tiles on the Chu project are wrong. I need you to straighten it out with the supplier.”

  She closed her eyes and let out an ear-piercing scream. It surprised him into stepping back.

  “What was that for?”

  “Long story.” She finally looked up, her slate-blue eyes brimming with anger and frustration. Damn. Nothing in his arsenal was going to smooth over whatever else was making her scream. His best option now was to muscle through the details and get out of her way.

  “Here’s the original order form and the packing slip. It looks like they switched the final numbers. We need to catch them before they leave, or we lose three days on this project, and I’ll have to pull crews from scheduled work at other houses to finish.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! I need to be out the door in half an hour. I’m not a miracle worker.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Flattery will get you nowhere. Give me that.” She snatched the paperwork from his hand and grimaced.

  “So, got a hot date?”

  Her head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and…offense?

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you had to leave. It’s Friday night…”

  “Screw you. When’s the last time you saw me leave this office before eight p.m.?” She gestured to her small room, walls covered in mismatched sample cabinets and drawer pulls for the clients to see, and desk layered in papers.

  “Just trying to make conversation. So why do you have to leave, then? It’s well before eight, as you say.”

  “Dad called a family meeting. He’s got something he wants to talk to us about.”

  Jealousy clenched briefly, even as he clenched his own fist in response. It was always this way. Family first. He’d started working for Valenti Brothers in high school as a general laborer. After his father had been deported, he’d been forced to become the man of the house far sooner than intended, working any and all hours to keep his mother and sisters safe and sound.

  Over the last twelve years, he’d worked his way up, learning, apprenticing, proving his worth. He now led his own construction team, with Dom and Frankie leading the other two since Tony had officially retired last month. He’d always expected to work alongside the old man until Gabe had finished college and was ready to step in. But Gabe had chosen a different path, one that led him to the army and Iraq. One that hadn’t led him back home.

  He could see the opportunities, his own potential to fill that role. He wanted it so bad he could taste it: the stability, the power over his destiny, the sense of finally belonging. But as long as business was decided over family dinners, he was stuck, always on the outside looking in. He needed to get his ass in gear and ask Dom the question he’d been choking on for months. As casually as he could, taking care to bury his frustrations deep, he asked, “Oh, yeah? Any idea what about?”

  She raced a highlighter across the invoice and reached for her phone, already tackling his problem.

  “None. And if you don’t get out of here, I’ll never finish so I can find out. Shoo! Hello? Yes, can I speak to Javier? Thank you.”

  She continued entering numbers while she calmly reamed Javier a new one and wrangled a guarantee that the tiles would be delivered to the site by Saturday at ten a.m., no extra charge. He had no idea how she juggled it all, but better her than him. He backed out the door, wondering why that prim tone of voice turned him inside out.

  Phone call done, payroll half entered, contracts still waiting, Sofia lowered her swirling head to her desk. What nerve that guy has! Calling her beautiful, asking if she had a date… She knew she wasn’t beautiful, not by a long shot, but she didn’t need to be teased about it at work. Once upon a time she’d dreamed she was a lovely princess in a beautiful castle just waiting for Prince Charming. But little girls’ dreams often fade in the face of cold, hard reality, and hers was no different. Now, she was an overweight, underappreciated servant approaching thirty, trapped in a mismatched dungeon, and no one was coming to save her.

  She hated that in spite of Adrian’s insulting endearments and rude questions, the man still had the power to awaken the yearnings she kept carefully suppressed. There was no use getting turned on if there was no one to enjoy it with, so she tried to avoid it at all costs. But there was something about him…

  His dark, chocolate brown hair, his peanut-butter-colored eyes, the perfect combination of sweet and nutty… She reached back into her drawer and pulled out the big guns, a double pack of Reese’s cups. She slowly chewed the sugary treat and pretended that it filled the aching hole in her chest.

  She’d watched him during her shy teen years, afraid to approach the boy who was already a man. He’d intimidated the hell out of her with his confident, cocky air. When she’d come back to the company after a few years of experience in college, she’d been ready to pursue the strong tug of attraction, but every minor advance crumbled against the firm wall of physical distance and relentless teasing he kept between them. If he’d pushed her away when she’d been young and beautiful, she could only imagine he’d run screaming if she approached him now. She’d packed on weight in the months following the funeral, and her sedentary job and borderline depression were keeping it there. She’d let herself go, and now she could barely find herself in the reflection in the mirror. She didn’t have a chance in hell with a guy like him, so she did her best to keep her inappropriate longings well contained. Humor and sarcasm were her defensive weapons of choice.

  She had to laugh or she’d cry. Adrian was a trusted employee and a minor jerk, no matter how attractive she found him. She could handle him and this pesky response he provoked. He probably had no idea that his words had wounded. Most men didn’t. It likely didn’t occur to him that words like “beautiful” or “gorgeous” could hurt. He would never imagine that his casual conversation rang like a condemnation in her mind. He had no clue, and that was why he could never know that his broad shoulders and strong arms made inner Sofia weak in the knees.

  He would never know because she’d die sitting behind this desk, all alone. She was well and truly stuck. The futility of her situation weighed on her heart. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to go. The anger she tried hard to keep hidden from the rest of the family flared hot in her chest, lashing out at the one person who couldn’t defend himself.

  Damn it, Gabe. Why did you have to go and change everything? I want the life we had planned. I wish you were here.

  But wishing would not make it so.

  She shu
t the chocolate drawer firmly on her feelings and grabbed her purse. Time to see what Dad was up to.

  Chapter 2

  “You’re late.”

  “Bite me.”

  Seth had opened the door to her childhood home, and pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Careful. I hear karma’s a real bitch.”

  “I’m really not in the mood. It’s been a hell of a week.”

  He pressed his glass of red wine into her hand.

  “Well then, I’ll cheer you up. Zia Jo held dinner for you. The antipasti plates have been devoured, but really can you blame us? You’re late.”

  Sofia had to smile at that. It did indeed make her feel better to know that, although her family created ninety percent of her headaches, they were also there to help put her back together. She knew she was loved, even if the heathens had eaten all the marinated mushrooms. But really who could expect restraint around Ma’s antipasti plates?

  Sofia often wished that she had inherited some of her mother’s culinary genius, but aside from a few staple recipes, she made do with prepackaged frozen meals. She was too exhausted to cook by the end of the day, and making her mother’s recipes designed to feed the masses felt like a waste for just her. She relied on nights like this to satisfy her cravings. So yeah, she was bummed about missing out on her favorite mushrooms, but she could still feel the love.

  “Lead the way, and thanks for the wine.” She took a deep sip and swirled her glass in the light. The nearly black wine glinted with ruby highlights, while bright berries and tart cherries burst on her tongue. The Montepulciano cleansed her palate of her lingering sugar binge and called to mind her mother’s red sauce, which included a generous glug of the dark wine. “Did you screw up again?”