Page 46 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
She renews her gaze, and it’s resigned. “What else?”
“No more nights out. Your friends can’t be trusted.”
“But Sandrine?—”
“Can’t tell the difference between a regular punter and a made man. That lack of awareness could cost your friend her life. You owe it to Sandrine to keep her as far from this world as you can.”
She knows I’m right, and her lack of response confirms it.
“Anything else?”
My jaw grinds as I contemplate the other rules I want to impose on her, but not only are they not mine to impose, but they’d also be transparent.
Instead I shake my head. “That’s all.”
She glares at me as if “that’s all” is everything, when she doesn’t know the half of what I want to do.
I watch as she opens the door and slips off her shoes, and I continue to watch as the door slowly closes, eclipsing her from view. I stand and stare at a closed door for several seconds too long, then I make my way to the main house to speak to her father.
Trilby
“Oh, Trilby, if your mama could see you now ...”
I’m standing on a pedestal, facing a large oval mirror. A white bodice peppered with crystals hugs my ribs, and a long satin gown flows to my feet and trails behind me in a small, tasteful train. The halter neckline shows off my shoulders, and a subtle fishtail skirt makes a decadent meal of my curves.
An attendant hands Allegra a box of tissues, and she promptly blows her way through four sheets.
“You look stunning,” Sera whispers beside her. “That dress was made for you.”
I smooth my hands over my hips and marvel at the way the light bounces off the ripples it creates. “It is a beautiful dress,” I agree.
Penelope, one of New York’s most coveted seamstresses, takes a pin from her mouth and tucks it into the skirt. “I’ve been in this business a long time, madam, and the dress is only everas beautiful as the woman who wears it.” She smiles up at me. “I have to agree with your sister.”
I turn to my family. “Do you think Savero will like it?” I ask weakly.
Do I want him to like it?
Is it him I want to impress as I walk down that aisle?
I can’t allow myself to follow that train of thought, so I turn to my aunt. “He said couture, didn’t he?”
Allegra sniffs. “Yes, he did, and that’s what this is. But it’s irrelevant really. No one is going to wonder who the designer is when you look like this. They’ll all be too blown away to care.”
Penelope stands back and assesses her handiwork. “I’ll take the dress back to my studio. Can you come along in a couple of weeks for another fitting?”
I take a last long look at the dress and permit myself a small smile to counteract the sinking of my stomach. If the final dress fitting is in only two weeks, that means the wedding day isn’t too far behind it.
“Yes, of course.”
The seamstress helps me undress and conceals the gown in a bridal bag. It’s a good thing she does, because the moment we open the door, the unmistakable sound of Di Santo drifts up the stairs.
My heartbeat turns erratic. It’s only been a few days since Cristiano pulled me out of the club with a gun in his hand, his finger poised on the trigger. After Rhett, I’ve been determined not to let him shoot another man as a result ofmyactions. I didn’t anticipate his propensity to put bullets into flesh to raise its head again so soon.
“I’ll walk you out,” Sera says, leading Penelope down the hallway.
Allegra turns to me with raised eyebrows.
I sigh. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going out to the garden to finish my painting.”
