Page 20 of The Boss
“That’s a dog?”
I pull him out of the doggy purse. “Yes, I had Vix dig into the dog thing, the man I’m marrying loves huge dogs. Great Danes, Rottweilers, Mastiffs. This guy here was the runt of his already tiny litter.”
“Aw, he’s…”
I look down at his shaking body, scraggly white hair, one somewhat lazy eye and his outrageous underbite. “So ugly he’s kind of cute, right? His name is Marlon Brando.” I mimic thedog’s underbite and my best Godfather impression. “I’m gonna give him a wifey he’ll have to refuse.”
“Ho. ly. Crap. Luna. You are really going all the way with this plan.”
“I am! So where the hell is the groom-to-be? Even his dad is here, he and Papa just sitting there growing more and more pissed that someone dare keep them waiting. And I wanted to make a dramatic entrance, hence I snuck out here so I could walk back in with Marlon, and I’ve been in here for twenty minutes!”
“Maybe he heard about your insane luau and already bailed.” She murmurs, grimacing. “I mean I have actual sand in my shoes.”
I huff a sad laugh, “If only. One of his lackeys said he was cleaning up a mess and then would be on his way.” We give each other a knowing look. A mess—as in he’s killing someone, or overseeing that the someone he just killed is properly disposed of.
Lovely.
“Miss Mancini?” My nervous little event coordinator pops her head in. “We really should start on the food or all the shrimp and sushi is going to have to be thrown out. I warned you about the ice storage when you chose the—”
“It’s fine, Polly. Go ahead.”
“So I can send the servers out? Are you…”
I nod and confirm, “On my way in.”
She leaves, shaking like a leaf. She wouldn’t say anything out loud but the money in the room, the name Mancini, the dark hair and tailored suits…she knows exactly who her crazy new client is.
“Lu, you don’t need to make an entrance. You’ve crafted the perfect Anti-Quinn event and persona, everyone is uncomfortable already, and I’m sure you have more up yoursleeve for the night. Trust your plan and let’s do this. Hiding in the bathroom is just going to get you all tied up in knots.”
“You’re right,” I say, then tuck Marlon back in his purse.
“It’s weird, seeing you rattled at all.”
“I know,” I pull at the hem of my dress, another thing I never do. “But it’s just becoming real. A quarter of the chairs out there are filled withthem,the Irish. Men, and a few women, not that many, which is weird, but anyway, they’re outsiders. People we don’t know. And they don’t know us either. The looks they’re throwing our way…”
Ellie nods, “I saw. Doesn’t seem like anyone is more thrilled about this than you are.”
“Fuck! I don’t want to marry the Irish!” I whine, and not in a fake voice.
“Luna. You’re not going to marry him. You’re going to double down on this batshit idea and scare him off,” she turns to the door and grabs my elbow. “Now bring your strange rodent-cat-dog, flip your unbelievable lion’s mane over your shoulder and let’s go.”
“Yes, Mom,” I grumble, but we both smile. I’m thankful. I may not have a bunch of supportive women around me but I really just need a couple. Mia has texted me no less than twenty times per hour today.
I walk out, trying to channel my inner entitled princess. I head into the ballroom with a sad pout on my lips—because my beloved is running late—but I keep my head held high. I’m still Luna Mancini after all.
I hear Ellie snort behind me at my crazy hair and Marlon. His little furry head bobs in his purse as I walk. All eyes look at me and then away, then at the dog, then back again, to confirm I do, in fact, have a dog with me at this banquet.
The Italians, my dear relatives, just roll their eyes or sneer, aside from the youngest girls on the outskirts of the family whocrane their heads for a better look. They vie for my attention and hope to gain influence by getting close to me. I ignore them.
The Irish are shocked and disgusted. A few faces even look scared. It’s perfect. I just hope I see the same reaction on my enigma of a fiancé’s face.
I take my time walking to the head table just so everyone can get their fill. I sit back down across from Papa and Mr. Quinn and place Marlon prominently on the table in front of me. The men ignore me completely, engrossed in their own hushed conversation. Bosco eyes me with confusion for a beat before focusing right back on his life’s goal: working his way up my father’s large intestine.
Loser.
As instructed, the servers start bringing out platter upon platter of food. I get the feeling the Irish are happy to have somewhere else to look rather than to gawk at me. Ellie sits down to my right and I watch her hold in a smirk as Mark whispers in her ear. He tugs her hair closer to his and I fight the urge to squint at him. He’s sweet to her now but I remember how it was before. Something shifted and I don’t know w—
The doors open and everything changes instantly.
