Quiver: Philia Players Book One, page 1
Copyright ⓒ 2023 by Giuliana Victoria. All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without explicit written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, is unintentional and merely coincidental.
Editing by Steph White (Kat's Literary Services)
Proofreading by Louise Murphy (Kat's Literary Services)
Cover art and internal images by Sonia Gx (ArtBySoniaGx on Instagram)
Typography by DisturbedValkyrieDesigns
Contents
Content Warning
Table of Cocktents
Playlist
De Laurentiis Family Tree
Signature Fragrance
Dedication
1. Katarina
2. Katarina
3. Katarina
4. Katarina
5. Alessandro
6. Katarina
7. Katarina
8. Alessandro
9. Katarina
10. Alessandro
11. Katarina
12. Alessandro
13. Katarina
14. Alessandro
15. Katarina
16. Katarina
17. Alessandro
18. Katarina
19. Katarina
20. Katarina
21. Alessandro
22. Katarina
23. Katarina
24. Katarina
25. Katarina
26. Alessandro
27. Katarina
28. Katarina
29. Alessandro
30. Katarina
31. Katarina
32. Katarina
33. Alessandro
34. Katarina
35. Alessandro
36. Katarina
37. Katarina
38. Alessandro
39. Katarina
40. Katarina
41. Alessandro
42. Katarina
43. Katarina
44. Alessandro
45. Katarina
46. Katarina
47. Katarina
48. Katarina
49. Alessandro
50. Katarina
51. Alessandro
52. Katarina
53. Alessandro
54. Katarina
55. Aiyana
56. Katarina
57. Alessandro
58. Katarina
Epilogue: Part One- Alessandro
Epilogue: Part Two- Katarina
Epilogue: Part Two- Alessandro
Epilogue: Part Three- Katarina
Afterword
Acknowledgements
About the author
Also by
Content Warning
There are mentions of attempted sexual assault (attempted drink tampering and groping NOT by the MMC), family trauma, domestic violence (very brief mention), attempted homicide, gun violence (very brief mention), suicide (non-graphic), on-page seizure, and explicit language.
Chronic illness and mental health representation are a few main themes in Quiver and will be in each of my books in this series.
This is an open-door romance with lots of consensual spice. If you aren’t a fan, this book may not be for you, or you’re welcome to refer to the “Table of Cocktents” on the following page so you know which chapters to avoid.
For a detailed list of events, please feel free to contact the author via Instagram DMs or email at Giuliana.Victoria.Author@gmail.com with any specific questions you may have about the contents of this book. While Quiver is filled with lots of light and laughter, some themes may be triggering for people. Your mental health is always a priority. Never be afraid to ask for specific chapters to avoid or to just avoid reading the book entirely. Please take care of your mental health <3
Table of Cocktents
For anyone who wants to jump straight to the spice, know how far ahead the “good stuff” is, or wants to skip it entirely.
Chapter 9: Solo Dolo
Chapter 25: Cunning Linguist
Chapter 27: I'm Simply Smutten With You
Chapter 30: Finger Bang Gang
Chapter 31: Mutual Interests
Chapter 34: Stick In My Ice
Chapter 36: Beer Pong & Ale’s Dong
Chapter 45: Quivering Mess
Chapter 58: The Grand Fin-Ale
Playlist
Stress Me Out – PLVTINUM
CPR – Summer Walker
La Noche De Anoche – Bad Bunny and Rosalía
Replay – Iyaz
Mona Lisa – Lil Wayne (ft. Kendrick Lamar)
Idea 686 – Jayla Darden
Come Thru – Summer Walker (ft. Usher)
Honey – Kehlani
Wine – Zae
Nervous – John Legend
in my head – thuy
Leave – CIL
Over Some Wine – RINI (ft. Maeta)
Comfortable – H.E.R.
Lost – Frank Ocean
Oops!… I Did It Again – Britney Spears
WAP – Cardi B (ft. Megan Thee Stallion)
Frozen – Sabrina Claudio
Lovin On Me – Jack Harlow
changes – XXXTENTACION
violet skies – Colette Lush
Shallow – Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper
Lose Control – Teddy Swims
Curiosity – Bryce Savage
Beautiful Things – Benson Boone
Conversations in the Dark – John Legend
Additional songs mentioned:
Carmen Suite No. 2: Habanera. Allegretto quasi Andantino (Act I) – Georges Bizet
Hallelujah – Pentatonix
Baby, It's Cold Outside – John Legend (ft. Kelly Clarkson)1
1. Quiver Playlist
De Laurentiis Family Tree
Gloria: Mother
Angelo: Father
Alessandro (Ale): Oldest Brother
Luca: Second Oldest
Dante: Oldest Adopted Brother
Arielle: Dante's Wife
Sammy, Benny & Lily: Dante & Arielle's Children
Gianni (Gi): Youngest Adopted Brother
Charlene (Charlie): Youngest & Only Adopted Sister
Rose: Charlie's Wife
Arlo & Sofia: Charlie & Rose's Daughters
Signature Fragrance
Katarina Narvaez:
Kayali Yum Pistachio Gelato
&
Sí Passione by Giorgio Armani
Alessandro De Laurentiis:
Gucci Guilty Pour Homme
To those who have so much love to give but weren’t born into a big family or surrounded by tons of friends despite seeing these dynamics displayed on TV and in movies, always wanting what you thought you couldn’t have. Create the family you want. Our friends are just family that we get to choose. So choose quality over quantity, and always remember, the love you choose to give is precious. Don’t squander it. Reserve some of that love for yourself, and be gentle and kind to yourself too. For the gentle souls with a wild side, this one’s for you.
&
For anyone who’s ever felt like they need to tone down their personality for people to like you. The right people will know your worth, and you’ll never have to dull your shine for them. <3
Chapter one
Katarina
Friday, November 3, 2023
It feels like there must be one of those “Nor’easters” coming our way that I always heard my parents talk about as a kid if the windchill threatening to freeze my body like a popsicle is any indication. I had checked the weather before deciding on what outfit to wear, but it seems the fleece-lined leggings and chunky knit sweater aren’t enough to keep me warm on a day like this.
It’s thirty-four degrees in Philly, and I’m quickly realizing that I need to buy some more substantial winter apparel if I want to make it through my first winter back.
The plane ride from San Diego was what you’d expect from a six-hour flight purchased off of a website called “CheapoFlightsRUs.” The experience was complete with the quintessential screaming children sitting behind me, kicking my seat and blowing out my eardrums. Honestly, I didn’t mind that nearly as much as others seemed to. They’re just kids, and I imagine I was no delight on my first flight either. Plus, the pressure differential popping their little ears would be annoying for anyone, especially when you don’t know what’s happening.
The worst part was definitely the annoyed passengers who kept judging the parents and making unnecessary comments under their breath, and of course, the flight was delayed by about four hours. I’d still consider that a win when the delay could have been so much worse, and again, the tickets were extremely inexpensive.
Thankfully, I thought ahead for once, so my brother, Kas, dropped by my new apartment and picked up the keys from management so he could mail them to me ahead of time. At least now I can take all of my luggage back and get a good night’s rest before I have to settle into my apartment and start my new job on Monday.
As I approach the thirty-eight-story high-rise that I’ll be calling home for the foreseeable future, it becomes glaringly obvious that I wouldn’t have been able to afford the rent on this place on my own. When I first started discussing the move to be closer to Kas, he vetoed every one of the hundreds of listings I sent him in the area. Granted, many of them were pretty sketchy.
I appreciate that he wants me to be safe, comfortable, and close to him, but buying one of the two penthouses in this massive building and charging me the average cost of rent in Philly for a studio apartment was excessive, even for him.
He swears that it’s just a drop in the bucket for him now that he’s playing for the Philly Scarlets, and that when I decide to move someday, he’ll make a killing off of the sale of the apartment, so he’s calling it an investment property. I think what he’s really doing is investing in his twin sister.
Kas lives about two blocks away in a similarly designed building but said they didn’t have any availability that was “to his liking.” Which probably means they were reasonably sized apartments and actually affordable for me, so he wouldn’t be able to spoil me how he wants to. He chose this building on the recommendation of a couple of his teammates.
I’m sure I’ll be able to quickly decipher which of the hundreds of people living in my building are hockey players as they all seem to be six foot four and three hundred pounds of solid muscle and are usually missing half their teeth. Essentially, they’re built like brick shithouses, and it’s hard to miss someone who looks like that.
As I look up at the sprawling building in front of me, my stomach fills with butterflies from the anticipation of being back here. I have so many memories of growing up here, both good and some very, very bad. Still, I’d always intended to come back for Kas, even as it simultaneously broke my heart to leave him and thrilled me that I’d be moving toward a major step in my career.
The building is covered in panels of mirrored glass, which, I’ll admit, does add a nice opulence and some much-needed privacy. I love the look of floor-to-ceiling windows, but it’s always made me a little uncomfortable that people could see directly into my apartment. For someone with so much anxiety, I listen to a lot of true crime podcasts that do nothing but fuel my reeling mind.
I walk toward the sliding doors under the covered red awning, literally taking my first steps toward my new life, and notice that the building has a concierge as well as building security, which is a far cry from the dingy studio apartment Aiyana and I shared. If I’m being honest, it was less an apartment and more an attic above an older woman’s garage, but it was cheap and safe, which were our two highest priorities when we chose the place.
After taking in the brightly lit lobby with its upscale decor, I turn my attention back to the concierge; he’s an older gentleman, probably in his mid-sixties, with white hair and kind brown eyes. I find myself mindlessly toying with the gold pendant of my necklace, a nervous habit I’ve used as a coping mechanism for my anxiety for as long as I can remember.
He smiles at my arrival, and he must be good at his job as it’s obvious that he knows who I am when he says, “Good evening, Miss Narvaez. I’m glad to see that you’ve arrived safely, though a bit late in the evening, it seems.” He gives me a slight frown as he looks down at the watch on his weathered wrist, brow crinkling as he realizes the time. “Unfortunately, the manager is out for the evening, but if you have any troubles, please don’t hesitate to call the office.” He gives me a small smile, and his brow smooths.
I smile at the man, whose name tag reads “Ralph,” and thank him before I start heading toward the huge glass elevator doors placed in the center of the sprawling lobby with high ceilings resembling those of the promenade deck on a cruise ship. Unfortunately for me, there’s an “out of order” sign on the one that reads, “penthouse.”
I groan internally. I’m definitely not asking Ralph, or anyone else for that matter, if there’s an alternative, so I head to the door to the right labeled “stairs” and begin my ascent to the thirty-eighth floor with my rolling suitcase in tow. At least I’m a pretty light packer, and I work out, so it isn’t until around the twentieth floor that I start to really slow down from exhaustion.
By the time I get to the thirty-eighth floor, I’m panting, keeled over with my hands on my knees, and my suitcase tossed to the side. It’s clear that I need to start using the stair climber at the gym to build my stamina, or I might just die up here if there’s a fire. Here’s to hoping this fancy schmancy building has some super high-tech safety measures and I’ll never have to worry about that. Now that the thought’s in my head though, it feels like something I’ll be thinking about in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep. Hell, I’ll probably end up researching a collapsible window ladder to buy with all the money I don’t have because spending money at strange hours of the night gives me a solid dopamine rush and sets my mind at ease, just long enough for me to fall asleep.
Once I catch my breath, I walk over to the door on the right that has a giant cardboard cutout of my face taped to it. Clearly, Kas wanted to ensure I wouldn’t have trouble deciphering which door was mine.
Or he wanted to embarrass me and make sure that whoever lives across the hall has zero desire to seek me out, based on the horrific photo he chose. It’s a picture of me on our twenty-sixth birthday wearing a huge grin with a giant corncob in my mouth and cotija cheese and mayo covering my cheeks.
He can be such a clown sometimes, but hopefully, whoever lives across the hall hasn’t seen it yet.
I pull out the key Kas sent me, which, of course, he sent on a keychain that says, “If sisters were boogers, I’d pick you first.”
I slide it into the keyhole, and it doesn’t seem to fit right. Turning it over and trying again, that's definitely not right. I give it one last go, and the key finally slides in, but I can’t get it to turn. Resting my forehead against the door, I allow the annoyance I'm feeling to seep in after the long day of travel I’ve had.
Blowing out a breath and straightening my spine, I inspect the door, trying to distinguish if there’s anything I could possibly be doing wrong. The door also has a keypad on it, but management said I would have to wait until I checked in with them to select a secure door code, so the key was all Kas could get at the time. And it appears that isn’t working.
Deciding to try out some random combinations of door codes just in case I can somehow pick one that’ll let me into my not-so-humble abode, I start with the classic, “one-two-three-four.” That doesn’t work, not that I had really thought it would, so I move on to the building number, my date of birth, and the door number. When none of those options work either, I Google the name of this apartment complex and try to find out the year that it opened. While I thought that was a genius idea, it still doesn’t work.
Anxiety and frustration are seeping in, but I try to ground myself. I'm doing my best to remember that this is just a small blip in my plans; I’m alive, safe, and healthy, and so many worse things could be happening to me right now.1
Releasing another long breath, I consider my options, hands on my hips in determination and the tip of my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth. This is my “deep concentration” stance—I swear it helps. I can trek back down the stairs and not be able to get myself back up here; I can try to find the number for the concierge and hope they can do something for me even though I know the manager isn’t here. Another option would be to try to make it to my brother's apartment and hope he isn’t asleep on the plane coming back from his game in Memphis so he can tell me what his door code is.
None of those options sound all that great, so I weigh the pros and cons one by one. Going downstairs doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll get any answers, so that’s out of the question. It doesn’t hurt to call the concierge and see if there's another option I hadn't thought of, so I’ll probably do that regardless. And there’s no guarantee Kas will answer me about his apartment, plus I’d have to get myself there. Settling to call Ralph, I find the number, and to my surprise, he answers on the first ring.
“Hello, Miss Narvaez, this is Ralph. How can I be of service to you?” His voice is chipper and smooth, and I imagine he’s a level-headed person most of the time.
