Page 97 of The Mafia's Bride
It better. I worked hard for a week straight, on very little sleep between a new marriage, realizing I love my husband and dealing with Danica’s bullshit, to make it into such a thing.
My eyes scan the room. Unfortunately, the carpet in the back is a bit dated, but I can’t change that. I’ve already asked.
People mill about, taking in the thin, glass display cases of the priceless items that litter the large dance floor. A band on the stage is playing classical but upbeat music and the bartenders are making the signature drink I decided on a whim, just days ago.
A Blushing Whiskey looks cute in a short glass, the pale pink matching many of the dresses and purses donated. It’s also a call back to my wedding, the pale pink the same color as my flower bouquet and bridesmaid dresses. Nico said this was a way to show an alliance, so I figured what better way than reminding them of the wedding that brought this together? Standing in the center of the room, mypink Versace satin sheath dress is a bright spot against the dull walls and black accents. I feel like a star among the people, oohing and awing over the piece.
My hand touches the new cross at my neck, a small gold one that mirrors the one from my mother. This one holds so much more meaning than hers ever did because it’s from Lex. I know this came from love instead of the childish fantasy that it might hold love for a woman long gone.
I know I should be considering my actions with Danica, but I’m not worried. Last I checked, the men saw her get on the plane, her bags already loaded, to take her back home to England.
Good riddance.
I keep looking out into the crowd, looking for my husband. He still hadn’t shown up yet, but the night is young. He said he had business to deal with—my sister’s business. And although he told me about his meetings with her, he couldn’t give me more information than that.
Not because he didn’t want to. But because Maeve didn’t want me involved.
Just knowing my husband was offended on my behalf, eases the sting that my sister still doesn’t trust me.
Maria and a few of the aunts are in the corner, laughing over glasses of wine; a surly one even raised her glass to me with her wine-stained lips, a gesture of approval that has my chest puffing out. Nico is at the opposite wall, greeting other men in dark suits with firm handshakes and curt nods. All part of the family, the organization or other outfits, I’m sure.
He’s always been charismatic. Lex gets that from him.
Collins rushes over to my side, her cinnamon hair curled down her back, the Dior belted mid-length dress crisp white and conservative. But the bright red lipstick makes the glow in her cheeks bright and her green eyes pop behind her glasses.
I crush her into a hug, impressed even with the small heels she wore. She wore makeup and heels. She’s trying for my big night.
“You look amazing,” I breathe, inhaling her unique, sweet scent. Isaw her a few times this week but this feels different. After cutting ties with Danica, and forcing her out of the city, I missed my sister.
The same sister who tried to pull me from that parasite and I didn’t listen.
God, I was so stupid for fighting her. Collins saw something I couldn’t see. Again.
“Youlook amazing.” She returns, holding me at arm’s length. She scans me over, tapping my nose affectionately. “You look happy, Sloaney.”
Unable to resist, I smile wider. “I am. Probably for the first time ever.”
“And no wine in sight.”
“Later.” I shrug. “I have an auction to run and a husband to find.”
Collins gives me a loving look, understanding me in ways I’ve never allowed, wrapping her arm through mine. Turning together, we inspect the crowd, which is now a mob, fawning over the details I put together.
I did this. All of this. Pride warms my chest, and that smile grows even bigger.
“You did good, kid,” Maeve says from my left.
Collins and I look over, both shocked at her arrival and at her outfit.
The Dolce and Gabbana dress is made from lace and tulle, sinfully black and downright scandalous for my oldest sister. It goes to her collarbone, solid around her top and bottom but everything else? Completely see-through.
And the matching cherry red heels and leather jacket?Damn.
My mouth drops open, but Collins saves us both by agreeing. “She did. Nico was just telling me how all this was her work.”
Maeve raises the glass of champagne, blood red lips staining the edge. “I know. When Nico mentioned the auction, I told him Sloane had a knack for fashion.” Her green kohl-lined eyes glance to me and away. “You didn’t disappoint.”
She noticed?
