Page 3 of Mafia Heiress
“Don’t you look like a knockout. Spin class is paying off.”
“You know it. That fucking mom pouch was killing me. I’ve been eating air and drinking water for two weeks, but it was totally worth it to fit into this dress. Luigi is going to flip his shit.”
I laugh as I pull the plastic off both dresses. The red is simple, but the cut makes the dress. Strapless with a very deep neckline, almost to my belly button. Its form skimming, every inch hugs me tight, until it drops into a flare at my thighs. The trumpet style makes my butt look awesome and accentuates my hips.
“This is definitely it. The gold is beautiful, but the red, it’s gonna make them stupid.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
* * *
The ballroomat the Plaza is something out of a dream. Sleek floors and grand arches. Nothing is too good for the daughter of a mafia boss.
A dais is set up on the far side of the room, where I’m to make a speech about the competition and what it entails. I’m excited to see the men squirm, even if I’ll be just as nervous. My rough exterior hides most of it, but looking around the room my stomach is having second thoughts.
“Bellissima! You are a vision.” My father compliments me. He walks over from his table as I make my way into the room.
“Thank you, Daddy. Everything looks beautiful.”
There are over two hundred people here to witness the beginning of the next chapter of my life. They’re also here because they love gossip and drama. Plus, this is their own personal Bachelorette, mafia-style. We might not be handing out roses, but it’s a show all the same.
“It came together nicely. The guys are here already. Even though I chose them, I wanted to punch every one of them.”
“Don’t get crazy. We’re doing this for a reason. You get a lackey and I get a husband to make all this look legit.”
“The things I do for you.” He shakes his head, but gives me a kiss on the cheek before he walks off. I love my father. He’s been my idol for as long as I can remember. The way he commands a room, and how people bow down to him. His power is intoxicating, and I am fully prepared to have that for myself one day.
I make my way to the dais and have a seat at the table. A waitress comes over with a glass of champagne. Thanking her, I down most of the glass. Twisting the stem in my hand I glance around the room smiling at people, waving hello. All of them have amused expressions on their faces, some of them look disgusted. Doubt flashes through my mind as I take another sip. I didn’t think my nerves would be running this high.
“Aren’t you gorgeous?” a smooth voice asks from my left. I glance in the direction to see Ciro leaning against the table, his arm crossed over his chest.
“Aren’t you hilarious?” I counter. Grazing my eyes up and down his body. He’s hotter in person than his picture, and the picture almost gave me an orgasm.
Ciro is an Italian God. He's about 6’2”. Black curls sit on top of his head, and blue eyes the color of the Mediterranean stare into mine. His suit is tailor-fit to him, streamlined to make every muscle stand out.
A neatly combed beard sits on his face, and I can’t help but think what it would feel like to have the friction burn against certain parts of me. I fight off the image and square my shoulders.
“I’ll be anything for you, bella.” The word beautiful rolls off his tongue making me shift in my seat. I knew this guy was trouble.
My glass goes to my lips before I can counter. I’m going to need all the alcohol I can get. The other four men join us and I’m immediately excited for the prospect of them giving all the attention to me.
Their pictures don’t do them justice. Marcello and Dante standing out as much as Ciro. Vito smirks like he knows something I don’t, and I roll my eyes at him. He has no idea I’ve made the decision already.
“I see you’re making your play,” Marcello smiles, gesturing to Ciro. This is as much of a game to them as it is to me. Good, at least feelings won’t be involved.
“Marcello, so good to see you. I was wondering when you’d grace us with your presence, Mr. FBI. Won’t you get in trouble being here, with all us criminals?” Ciro snarks. It seems Ciro and Marcello have a previous relationship. It makes me think of the two of them with me — naked.
“Don’t worry. This is family time. The government understands I can’t choose who gave birth to me, nor what company they keep.” He sounds like he’s not so sure that’s the case. Is he taking a risk being here?
“If you gentlemen are done with your banter, I’d like to announce the competition. Please have a seat.” I give each of them a smile but try not to linger. The need to get this over with has become overwhelming.
I make eye contact with my father. He nods and stands up from his chair. He clicks his knife on his glass to get the attention of the room. “Are we ready for this show?” His smile spreads across his face, and the crowd erupts into shouts and laughter. I’m sure I’ve been the talk of the family since we sent out the invitations.
Walking up to the microphone, I switch it on and tap it a few times with my hand. “Good evening, everyone! I hope you all have been enjoying the party so far. As you know, I’m here to find a husband.” I laugh a bit, and the room joins me.
“It’s not traditional, and may be a little unorthodox, but life sometimes doesn’t just give you that soulmate, and a Gambino wouldn’t be caught dead on Tinder.” This gets them clapping, my resolve strengthens, and I feed off the energy in the room.
“These five gentlemen will be competing for my hand. Each of them will have an opportunity to show me why they are the best candidate. At the end of a two-month period, I will pick the winner and you will all be back here for the wedding. So, raise your glasses and let’s wish them luck. May the best man win.”
