Page 44 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

We’re in some kind of parlor room, by the looks of it. It’s quite typical of a British Isles parlor room, with wood detailing on all the walls, wood floors covered by antique Persian rugs, and all kinds of pictures, trinkets, and other shit covering every available surface. There’s a piano, which I find somewhat unusual, and a large portrait of a beautiful woman hanging over the fireplace.

And wedding dresses.

I’m momentarily stunned.

Roisin makes a noise again, pulling my attention to the center of the room, where there’s a large tri-fold mirror set up to catch the light from the large windows. A changing screen, very old-fashioned looking, is connected to it, and there are even more wedding dresses frothing the top of the screen.

Behind it, I see the shape of a woman, and I automatically avert my eyes.

I’m not trying to see Stassi naked.

“Well, I like couldn’t decide on any dress and with the tight timeline there just aren’t that many places to do the tailoring,” Stassi says from behind the screen, “so I just like… bought them all.”

I blink.

Liam, finally coming up behind me from the hall, makes a noise. “Anastasia. We have… visitors.”

I glance into the room, watching Roisin as she walks from dress to dress, her fingers lingering on the fabric. The reverential way that she’s touching each one makes something in my chest hurt.

Does she… want to get married?

Fuck.

Movement catches my eye, and Anastasia pokes her head out from behind the screen. She beams at Liam. “I know! Your sister, Roisin! Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?”

She ducks back behind the screen. “Wait! Liam, you can’t like, come in!”

Liam, to my surprise, seems to look a little embarrassed. “It’s not like any of those things matter?—”

“You want to jinx our marriage! Oh my god, Liam, are you for real?”

Stassi’s California-style accent is actually entertaining. Not for the first time, I wonder what her dissertation defense was like, and whether it went something along the lines of “Like, this is totally my physics dissertation.”

Roisin turns to us, her eyes twinkling with genuine laughter. For a second, the look on her face freezes me in my tracks.

God, she’s fucking pretty when she’s happy.

Then, she flaps her hands, shooing us from the room. “Go. Get my bags and do man things. We’re good here,” she says.

Then, with a very final click, the doors to the parlor snap closed.

Leaving Liam and I befuddled and a little overwhelmed, scratching our heads in the hallway.

8

ROISIN

I have to admit.

Stassi Novikov is… fun.

The second I walked into the ladies’ parlor, she came after me like a tulle-encrusted whirlwind. I was instantly hugged, kissed on both cheeks, and sat down with a glass of champagne before I even knew what was going on.

For the first time in days, weeks, or maybe even months, I felt a glimmer of… fun.

I wasn’t about to let my stupid brother and Marco ruin that for me.

So I took full advantage of Stassi’s squeak about the tradition of not seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding.

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