Page 27 of Mafia Men Need Love Too
His eyes narrowed. “No, I didn’t.”
She shrugged. “Bygones.”
As they were making their way out the front door, River heard Nico ask Van what was wrong. Van replied, “She stole my watch. Again.” Nico’s reply was a deep, world-weary sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul.
The unrepentant twinkle in Tenley’s eyes told River she had indeed managed to steal Van’s watch and Nico’s credit card without them having a clue she’d done it.
“I think you’re awesome,” River blurted.
Tenley winked at her. “Yeah. I get that a lot.”
Chapter 15
River had never felt more out of place in her life. And considering she’d recently kidnapped a mafia boss from a strip club, that was saying something.
The boutique Tenley drove her to (which was an adventure all on its own because of the ostentatious luxury SUV she liked to call her baby) looked like it was designed for people who flew private, vacationed in Monaco, and only drank spring water that had been blessed by the Pope. The sales associates were dressed head-to-toe in black, wore headsets like they were in the Secret Service, and eyed River like she’d wandered in off the street to beg for change.
Tenley, in her pencil skirt, silk blouse, and red-soled stilettos, looked like she belonged. Partly because of the clothes, and partly because she was, well, terrifying.
“I don’t know if this is the right place for me,” River whispered, clutching the strap of her thrifted tote bag that had a parrot reading a book on it under the words “Reading and a parrot is all I need.”
Tenley waved her off. “You deserve to be wherever you want to be.”
“Then this definitely isn’t the right place for me.”
“Why? Because you don’t like the clothes, or because the saleswoman is glaring at you like you stole something?”
River glanced over at a blouse so gorgeous it made her want to weep. “The glaring.”
That’s when the sourpuss saleswoman sauntered over. She looked like she survived on caffeine, kale, and sheer bitterness, and the smile she gave River was tighter than her skirt.
“We don’t have a public bathroom,” she said in the haughtiest tone River had ever heard. “You’ll have to go somewhere else.”
River turned to leave, because fuck this place and this horrible woman, but Tenley caught her elbow, forcing her to stand her ground.
“Sweetheart,” Tenley said to Little Miss Attitude, “if I gave a shit, I’d turn this into a teachable moment and let you know that judging a book by its cover is not a good sales practice. Or, if I had more time, I’d do a whole Pretty Woman, ‘big mistake’ bit and take my lovely friend somewhere else to shop. But since I neither give a shit about you nor have a ton of spare time—and since I’m, quite frankly, a giant bitch—I’m going to just cut to the chase. Do you know who Nico Fortunado is, Ashley?”
River wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the woman’s features got even tighter. “My name is Brittany.”
Tenley rolled her eyes. “Same difference. Try to focus, dear. Nico Fortunado?”
She tossed her buttery-blonde hair over her shoulder. “Everyone in this town knows Nico Fortunado.”
The smile Tenley gave her could peel paint. “This is his fiancée. You’re going to get me another salesperson because I’m already tired of you. Then, we’re going to buy my friend a new wardrobe—everything from casual wear to formal wear, including lingerie and shoes. For everything you don’t sell here, someone will pull for her from the other area boutiques, because I’ll be damned if we’re going to schlep from one store to another.”
Brittany started to object, but Tenley shushed her with a noise akin to a gameshow buzzer. “Bore someone else with your excuses. You’ll get us everything we want or I’ll be forced to tell Mr. Fortunado how you treated the woman he loves.” She leaned in closer and hissed, “Then I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the soles of my Louboutins for a month. Are we clear, pumpkin?”
Brittany nodded, swallowed hard, then vanished like smoke.
It was, quite possibly, the coolest thing River had ever witnessed in her life. “I think she might’ve peed a little,” she whispered.
Tenley smirked. “Good.”
For the next few hours, River was subjected to what could only be described as fashion boot camp. With the help of her new salesperson, a delightful ray of sunshine named Reginald, she tried on slinky dresses, blouses made of fine fabrics she couldn’t identify, and pants that somehow made her short legs look supermodel-long. When she stepped out in a deep emerald wrap dress that hugged her curves like no piece of clothing had ever hugged her curves, Reginald whistled.
“There’s my little mafia queen,” he said.
River felt her cheeks flush. “I don’t know if I can pull this off.”
