Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol) Read online

  Blame it on the Champagne

  Blame it on the Alcohol: Book One

  Fiona Cole

  Copyright © 2020 by Fiona Cole

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Designer: Najla Qamber, Qamber Designs

  Interior Design: Indie Girl Promotions

  Editing: Kelly Allenby, Readers Together

  Proofreading: Janice Owen, JO’s Book Addiction Proofreading

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

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  To everyone who helped me through this year.

  Especially the wonderful women at the author retreat. You reminded me of everything I’d forgotten.

  And to my husband. I couldn’t do this without you.

  Playlist

  Kings and Queens - Ava Max

  My Oh My (Remix) Camila Cabello (feat DaBaby & Gunna)

  Light Me Up - Ingrid Michaelson

  Kiss Me - Ed Sheeran

  Everyone’s Waiting - Missy Higgins

  Secret - Missy Higgins

  Over You - Ingrid Michaelson (feat. A Great Big World)

  Glitter In the Air - P!nk

  Contents

  Playlist

  1. Vera

  2. Vera

  3. Nico

  4. Vera

  5. Nico

  6. Vera

  7. Vera

  8. Nico

  9. Vera

  10. Nico

  11. Vera

  12. Vera

  13. Nico

  14. Vera

  15. Nico

  16. Vera

  17. Nico

  18. Vera

  19. Nico

  20. Vera

  21. Vera

  22. Vera

  23. Vera

  24. Nico

  25. Vera

  26. Nico

  27. Vera

  28. Nico

  29. Vera

  30. Vera

  31. Nico

  32. Vera

  33. Nico

  34. Vera

  35. Nico

  36. Vera

  37. Nico

  38. Vera

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Fiona Cole

  One

  Vera

  “Hey, Mom,” I whispered to the picture on the wall.

  Every time I came home, her memories wrapped around me like the warm hugs she gave me every chance she got.

  “Can I take your purse?” Irene, my father’s maid, asked.

  “Of course, thank you.”

  I passed off the small bag but held on to the leather folder I’d brought with me, looking around the black and white tiled foyer that had been my only home outside of college. Despite my mother having passed away ten years ago, the bright sunset of peonies she always loved decorated the round table in the foyer.

  “They always were your mother’s favorite,” my father’s deep voice greeted me from the stairs.

  “Papa.” I watched the man who acted as my own personal playground descend the stairs. As always, he wore a dark suit, but since it was Saturday, no tie. A man has to relax a little.

  “She always claimed this room needed a burst of color to liven it up a bit.”

  “Even though she picked out the color scheme in the first place,” I said, laughing.

  He laughed with me, closing the distance to pull me into a hug. “It’s good to have you home, Verana. I wished you’d stay.”

  I bit back my initial retort and forced a smile. “I like being on my own.”

  “So independent, just like your mother.”

  At that, a real smile stretched my lips. “Thank you.”

  “Although, I’m not sure what she would say about your attire,” he grumbled.

  And just like that, the smile faded. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing.”

  He scrunched his nose in distaste, taking in my cream cardigan, striped blouse, and pearls—and cut off jean shorts.

  “College away has made you forget your appearances. Everyone is always watching, Verana.”

  It’d been nice to be away in Pennsylvania. To just be me and not worried about being on my best behavior in New York.

  “Businesses are always waiting for the Marianos to slip up, and a family’s reputation is just as important as the company’s in the shipping industry. We must lead by example.”

  “Yes, sir,” I responded dutifully. They were the same words that had been drilled into my head since I was little. As one of the top shipping companies from an overly traditional Italian family, I was always reminded of my place—of my role in this world.

  “Now, come. Let’s eat. I had Antonio make your favorite.”

  “Mama’s stuffed meatballs?” I asked like a little kid.

  His smile was the only confirmation I needed, and I almost ran to the dining room. We sat at our long wooden table, and Irene poured his glass of wine before looking to him for approval to fill mine.

  Sometimes the traditions and etiquette hung around my neck like a noose, but it had been my life for so long, I’d grown used to it.

  “I missed you at graduation,” I said after he’d taken his first sip.

  He winced, focusing his attention on the food being brought out rather than me. “I explained that. Work has been hectic, and I had an opportunity for a meeting I couldn’t pass up.”

  Not having him there had been hard but expected.

  He allowed me to go to college as a way to check a box—to keep me busy and brag to his colleagues about his daughter. Not because he ever intended on me working at Mariano Shipping. As his daughter, my role would be a figurehead—a socialite who sat on charity boards and planned events. My role as a woman would be to marry a man who would benefit our company—one chosen by my parents.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  I loved our company. I loved the shipping industry. Add in that it was one of my last ties to my mother, and it was no wonder I went to school for business marketing.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, Verana.” The response never changed, and I never pushed the boundaries—until now.

  With a deep breath, I opened the black file, extracting a thick, cream paper. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  I slid the paper across the slick wood and held his questioning stare, my chin high. He looked down, and his curiosity shifted to a scowl.

  “What is this?”

  “My resume. I wanted to give it to you personally, although I submitted one to HR also.”

  “You turned in a resume to Dane?” he asked.

  “Yes.” His scowl weighed down my confidence, but I pulled my shoulders back and pushed on. “As you can see, I graduated with Magna Cum Laude. I partook in multiple business societies, even starting a new one that has been very succ—”

  “Verana,” he interrupted, waving his hand like he would shoo a fly. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I want to work at our company. I’m smart—an asset.”

  “You’re an asset because you will marry a man who will carry this company into the future.”

  “So
meday, you will have a husband to woo—someone to take care of. It’s important to have proper table manners to impress your husband.”

  “But, Mama, shouldn’t he woo me before we’re married?”

  She softly laughed. No woman would ever dare to open her mouth and let out a loud laugh. “Maybe. But you must prepare yourself that you won’t have time for romance. If a marriage must happen, then it will, and it is your job to be a good wife and represent this family.”

  “What if I don’t like him?”

  “I didn’t care for your father either. But we learned to love each other. Aren’t we happy?”

  I thought about the way they danced in the kitchen, and Papa always shared his food with her.

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “You will be happy too. Even if the way you get there isn’t how you planned it.”

  I wondered if Mama was alive if she’d have shown up to my graduation. I wondered if she’d have stroked my father’s tie and told him to give me a chance. She’d always reminded me of what my future held, but she also pushed me to achieve more.

  “I can still do that, but maybe I can do more too,” I argued gently. “I have time, and I can help with the business until the time comes for me to marry.”

  My father dug his hands into his eyes, a clear sign his stress was increasing as his patience decreased. Not that he ever lost his temper with Mama and me, but I knew it happened, and after Mama passed, he rubbed at his eyes more than he didn’t.

  “Verana,” he half sighed-half warned. “I’ve hired a new CFO.”

  The seemingly random announcement had alarms whispering in the back of my head. But my father rarely spoke business, so I grasped on, absorbing every word. “Already? Roman passed away less than a month ago. What about the board?”

  “The board approved.”

  “Who?”

  “Camden Conti.”

  “Mr. Conti’s son?”

  “Yes, you’ve met him before. You were young though.”

  Mr. Conti had been my father’s closest friend for years. I vaguely remembered his son with white-blonde hair and hunter green eyes. I remembered him not smiling much, and when he did, it never met his eyes, but he seemed polite. We all did in this world.

  “Where did he work before? Does he have much experience?” I bombarded him with questions, trying to squeeze my way through the crack he opened.

  “Of course, he does,” he scoffed.

  “Sorry, I’d just never heard your interest in him before. Where did he work before here?”

  He sighed, a hint to his patience slipping even more. “Somewhere abroad. He left, and we took the opportunity to snatch him up.”

  “Why did he leave?”

  “Not the right fit for them. But he’s right for Mariano Shipping.” His eyes narrowed for a moment before lowering to the wine he swirled in his glass. “He will be a good fit for you.”

  The alarms grew louder, and the opening he’d given to talk about the company grew—only it didn’t reveal an in-depth conversation where I proved my value as an employee. No, something else waited for me.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, we went golfing last month and discussed everything.”

  “Everything being…”

  “Your marriage together,” he said, but it lacked his usual confidence.

  The dark wood paneling closed in on me. “My what?”

  “You’ve known you’d marry whoever suited this family since you were little. That is the job you have. Attending college was never meant to change that.”

  I knew that. I just thought I had more time. More life to experience before it was given away to someone I didn’t want to have it.

  “Papa…”

  “It’s done.” His hand slashed through the air, and I jerked back. My father rode the line of patience with me, but he never crossed it, and the sharp movement shocked me. When he watched me swallow and pull back, he softened, regret pulling his shoulders down. He looked away, the lines around his pinched mouth hinting at more frowns than smiles. Before Mama passed, it had been all smiles. Now he shook his head, the silver in his dark hair standing out more than ever before under the lights.

  I’d obviously visited home over my four years away, but I’d never taken note of how much he’d aged. When did the man who hung my moon and stars get so tired? When did the man who snuck me an extra cookie lose control of his emotions?

  He swiped his hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the short-tempered man who snapped, but all that was left was exhaustion. “We’re training him now, and once he settles in, we’ll focus more on your wedding.”

  “He’s almost forty,” I said softly. I held tight to the emotions threatening to snap free, too nervous when he obviously sat so close to the edge.

  “I was older than your mother,” he said without any of the concern rioting through me.

  “By five years.” Panic slipped past my resolve to remain calm, and my voice rose. Camden was almost twice my age, and my father didn’t seem to care at all. “This is completely different. You and Mama had—”

  “An arranged marriage just like you will. She did what was best for her family, and she’d be ashamed to see you shirking your duties now.” His words hit me like a slap to the face. “Now, stop arguing, Verana. It’s pointless.”

  The finality in the sharp tone I’d never heard used with me urged me to plead harder than I’d ever done with him.

  I was supposed to have more time to convince him I was more than a socialite. If I could just make him hear me. If I could just buy some time. I scooted to the edge of my seat, my hands out. “Papa, I’m smart. I can be useful to Mariano Shipping,” I said, going back to how the night all started.

  “It’s not your job to be smart, Verana. You knew this,” he almost pleaded. Like he knew he was close to the edge, and he was begging me not to push him.

  But I was too far entrenched in panic over marrying Camden.

  “But I am. If you’d just let me work a little b—”

  “No,” he interrupted with finality.

  His harsh rebuttal snapped me back against my seat, my spine straight and tall. My desperation pleading for my father to hear me didn’t break through, so I shut down, leaving the professional socialite to mix with the iota of defiance I’d gained in my freedom at college.

  “Fine. I’ll apply elsewhere.”

  He barked a laugh. “I don’t think so, Verana.”

  I clenched my sweaty palms into frustrated fists, desperate to hold onto my composure—to not crumble under the discomfort of going against him. Usually, I sat back, but this was my life, and a tiny voice inside urged me to fight.

  “If you won’t hire me, then you can’t stop me from applying to a company that will,” I stated as I stood.

  The man I only heard about from his coworkers made an appearance for the first time in my life.

  His eyes narrowed to dark slits. “I’ll shut you down at every turn. I know every shipping company in New York. You’re a Mariano, act like it.” He stood too, mirroring my position. “Since God didn’t bless me with any male heirs, your job is to marry a man who will take care of our company. You’ll make a good wife, period. Like your mother taught you.”

  Like a splinter in glass, I fractured—my father’s cruel words dumping water on my fiery anger and I sat down, hard. Tears burned up the back of my throat and pooled on my lids, and I barely managed to keep them from falling.

  But he saw the hurt, and it—like his anger—doused his fight too. His lids slid closed, and he shook his head, sagging back in his seat.

  “It’s getting late,” I whispered.

  He nodded, his eyes sliding open, not bothering to hide his regret. I swallowed the last bit of my tears down and stood. He stood with me and walked me out.

  “You know I love you, Verana,” he said at the door.

  “I love you too.”

  He squeezed my hand. “And I love this company. It’s what we have left of
your mama. We must do what we have to, to keep it alive.”

  Unable to think of anything to respond with that would be productive to the night, I squeezed his hand back, and with a forced smile, left.

  I made it to the end of the driveway before I pulled out my phone to message my friends.

  Bitches: Arranged marriage is on…Kill me.

  Two

  Vera

  Raelynn: I thought you were joking…

  Me: Nope. Welcome home to me. *eyeroll*

  Raelynn: How about a girls’ night?

  Nova: Boo to arranged marriages.

  Nova: And I can’t do a girls’ night. I’m out of town.

  Raelynn: Clubbing it is.

  Me: How about just a dinner instead.

  Raelynn: At a strip club?

  Nova: Ew.

  Me: Hard pass on the strip club.

  Raelynn: Such a good girl. Live a little.

  Me: …

  Raelynn: Fine. Dinner.

  Raelynn: Party pooper.

  Nova: Have a drink for me and be safe.

  Just knowing I’d be able to relax and talk the last twenty-four hours out with Raelynn tonight helped ease some of the stress that weighed on me since I left my father’s last night.

  I hated that Nova couldn’t be there. She completed our love triangle, as Raelynn called it. She was the calm devil’s advocate, always challenging us to think of the other person’s point of view, while Raelynn plotted the murder of whatever hurt her or her friends.