Page 6 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
“I guess you’re hungover too?” I slide into my chair, grateful for the shade from the umbrella.
Olivia groans like I’ve personally wounded her. “I can’t even look at alcohol right now. The thought of champagne makes me want to die.”
“You both went a little nuts last night,” Jill says with a knowing smile, taking a delicate sip of her mimosa. Because of course she’s the type who can drink responsibly on her own wedding day.
“It was a party,” I defend, though the words scrape against my throat like sandpaper.
“I know. I’m just glad Chris kept me from getting too crazy. We didn’t want to start the honeymoon feeling like garbage.” She touches her wedding ring with a soft smile that hits me right in the feelings.
The waiter appears, and I order coffee—black, because I need the caffeine hit more than I need it to taste good. As he walks away, I catch Olivia studying me over her sunglasses.
“You look different,” she says, her voice still hoarse from last night’s festivities.
“Different how?”
“I don’t know. Something about your face.” She squints at me like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to solve. “Did you hook up with someone last night?”
The question hits me like a slap, and I nearly choke on air. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because you have that look. You know, the ‘I did something I probably shouldn’t have but I’m not entirely sorry about it’ look.”
Jill leans forward with interest. “Oh my God, you totally did! Was it that hot older guy you were dancing with?”
My stomach drops. “You saw me with him?”
“Saw you? Honey, you two were practically attached at the hip for the last half of the night.” Olivia’s grin is wicked despite her hangover. “Lorenzo something. Italian name, definitely rich based on that suit.”
“Lorenzo Andretti,” Jill supplies helpfully. “He’s some kind of businessman my dad knows. When Dad called last week demanding I add one more guest to the list, I figured it was important.”
Businessman.Right. If only they knew what kind of business their mysterious wedding guest really conducts.
“So?” Olivia prompts. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Not exactly,” I hedge, which is technically true. We definitely didn’t sleep together.
We just got married instead.
The coffee arrives, bitter and strong enough to wake the dead. I take a long sip, using the time to figure out how to explain this clusterfuck to my best friends.
“Okay, so here’s the thing,” I start, then immediately lose my nerve. How do you casually mention that you drunkenly married a mafia don? “Something happened last night.”
“We established that,” Olivia says dryly.
“I mean something big. Like, life-changing big.”
Jill’s expression shifts from curious to concerned. “Mia, what happened?”
I take a deep breath and let the words tumble out in a rush. “I got married.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
A family at the next table is arguing about which casino to visit next, but at our table, you could hear a pin drop.
Finally, Olivia speaks. “That’s not funny.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Her face goes pale beneath her sunglasses. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”
