Page 120 of Cara
Take the compliment. “Thanks.”
Her eyes catch onto one of my wedding gifts—a necklace my father bought to make up forstrangling me. I close my eyes.Not today. “Look at that freaking necklace!”
I place the necklace in her hands, unable to get attached to jewels that only serve as a dark reminder of what Vito Marin has put me through. Mimi raises the jewels to her neck, gaping in astonishment. “How many carats is this damn thing?”
“Wear it. It matches the pins in your hair.” Without a beat, I say, “Better yet, keep it.”
“No way. I couldn’t.”
“It’s never been worn.” I drape it around her neck myself. “Someone should enjoy it.”
Mimi watches me in the mirror while I clasp the necklace. “How are you doing?”
“Crowds aren’t my thing.”
She laughs. “Well, they’remine. Stick by me, and we’ll be fine.”
Dante calls out for Mimi downstairs, letting her know the limousine is ready and that Zeke and Delli are already inside waiting. She grins, drifting out of this room as if tonight were the social event of her life. I'm just trying to get one foot in front of the other, grabbing a jeweled clutch from the closet that hangs off my wrist before I follow her out.
The presence of soldato’s in the house is stronger today, men who were just briefed on the positions they’ll take within the crowded hotel. The senator has entrusted the Marcello Family with the security of this event. No guns, no dealings of any kind. Even a metal detector will be stationed at the entrance of the ballroom. That’s what happens when you run with criminals.
Huddled in clusters, they joke and jab. Dario inspects each man, pulling aside those who are ununiformed. “Come on, look at your shirt. It’s missing a goddamn button. This stain? Go home, change into a decent suit, and meet us at the hotel.”
He admonishes the next one for the lack of a bow tie.
The sea of black uniforms hides me at the top of the stairs as I struggle to come to terms with where I am and how eerily familiar this feels. A life I escaped. A life I couldn’t endure. And now I'm here, trying to fit into the mold—for one man.
That man strides out of the parlor, all polished authority and lethal grace as he slides into his tuxedo jacket and adjusts the sleek satin lapels. There’s a distinction between wearing a suit and letting it wear you.
As Xavier crosses the room, distracted by a man talking his ear off, he embodies that distinction, exuding a confidence that no man here will ever replicate. They might as well be in costumes, playing checkers while their youthful Don plays chess. His wild hair has been somewhat tamed, but it still looks unrefined. As he buttons his jacket, pausing to listen to Dario and nodding absentmindedly, his eyes catch the setting sun streaming through the expansive windows like gems.
He’s inherently and unmistakablyItalian… breathtakingly beautiful. From the outside, paired with a striking face and a strapping build, his darkness is his allure. He has the face of someone capable of this life. And yet, his essence remains expertly concealed, the man behind the mask. While they may covet that handsome surface, what’s within him is the actual treasure.
And none of them know it.
Dario orders the men to file out and get ready to go. With Xavier here, I feel brave enough to walk through the passing soldiers, ignoring their indiscreet glances at each other as I navigate between them. He is the only beacon I gravitate toward, finding strength in his presence. And when he spots me in the chaos, I'm reassured that he feels the same way.
Because the manvisiblystops breathing.
All the consequences of this life evaporate.
The room clears as I reach him, resisting the urge to wilt under his intense gaze. The house has fallen silent, leaving only the two of us, and he hasn’t looked away. Not once.
My painted nails pick at the sequined clutch in my hands. “Courtney… went all out.”
He shakes his head, unblinking. “All this time, I still can’t believe it.”
A nervous, unusual sound leaves me. “What?”
“That you’re my wife.”
I'm sure my relief is utterly transparent.
My defenses are steadily dwindling as he stops before me, his fingers nudging my chin to draw my gaze into his eyes. Eyes that won’t make light of this moment.
“That you love me enough to do this,” he whispers, taking my face in his hands.
Words catch in my throat. All I can manage is a breathless, pathetic nod. Xavier’s dark brows trough, contrasting how his mouth spreads into a cautious smile. “It’ll be alright.”
