Page 98 of The Mafia's Bride
I thought Lex told Nico about my fashion. I didn’t know it wasMaeve. Shock drops my mouth, but the praise, the understanding that my big sister knew something about me and put my name forward, has my cheeks glowing and mind spinning.
“Thanks,” I reply quietly, basking in her words. When I notice her eyes trained on a man across the way, I tilt my head. “Hot date?”
Maeve starts but quickly recovers, a soft smile drifting across her face. “Something like that.”
“What’s his name?”
“Reese.” She blushes a fine pink.
The man in question stops to look at a Chanel suit, dark navy suit pressed with clean lines. His dark tie sits snug around his neck, his polished black hair and brown skin warm under the string lights. He smiles at an elderly couple, gallantly moving out of their way like a gentleman.
When his eyes fall to my sister, he smiles happily. Oh.Oh. He’s got it bad.
“He seems nice,” I say innocently.
Maeve rolls her eyes. “Heisnice.”
She’s going to eat him alive. Maeve never dates. I always assumed she killed them before they made it past the front door like a female praying mantis.
Maeve drops her glass on to a passing waiter’s empty tray. When she looks back at me, her cool eyes rake over my pink dress, down to my white shoes, taking in my frame as if to look for weaknesses.
Not weaknesses, no. Injury. She’s making sure I’m not hurt. She’s always been checking to see if I’m hurt.
When she looks back to my face, she smiles. Gently, carefully, she brushes our grandmother’s pearls in my ears. “Is he taking care of you?”
“He is,” I confirm, twisting my hands, remembering how she raged at my mugging. How she cared about my safety. “Lex always puts me first.”
Maeve nods once, biting her bottom lip. She opens her mouth but it shuts, like a fish. Finally, she says simply, “I knew he would.”
Collins’ hip checks me tenderly as I stare dumbly at my retreatingsister, watching the man take her hand and pull her to another display.
I rear on Collins, eyes wide. “She complimented me. She acts like she cares. When did that happen?” I say, gesturing to the new couple. “I’m gone for a few weeks and she becomes a completely new person.”
Collins puts up her hands. “Or, maybe, she’s always been this way, and you’ve been too self-centered to appreciate it?”
Glaring, I cross my arms. “Whatever. I’m not here to be psychoanalyzed, Doc. Lighten up, have another drink.”
I shove a passing glass of champagne into her hand and watch as she looks over her shoulder.
Right to where Hayes leans against the dark bar, Killian hunkered into the corner, nursing a glass of something amber.
Haye’s brown locks are pulled into their typical bun, his leather jacket replaced with a black tux that seems sculpted for him. Every muscle, tendon, chiseled bit of flesh is on full display. He’s a woman’s wet dream, wrapped into the perfect package with the biggest blue eyes. Probably a few men too.
And Hayes only has eyes for Collins.
“Something I should know?” I ask carefully, fighting the smile off my face.
Collins glances to me and pushes the rim further up her nose. “No. Nothing to know.”
Grabbing my hand, she squeezes it once. “I’m going to mingle. You should do the same. I think there are a lot of people here who would like to know the event planner.”
With that, my sister takes off to the bar, leaving me in the center of an overflowing floor.
I listen to the buzz of the room, but unlike the other times where I wanted it to drift over me and take me away into a sea of fun numbness, fight back the bleakness, I just listen. The small talk, the gasps over the piece’s beauty, the compliments to the passed appetizers and crafted drinks. It’s freeing and enlightening, and unlike the numbness from a night out, this is a different kind of high.
Happiness wraps me into a cocoon of warmth and ease. I see my sisters in different spots, talking to men who clearly make them smile. It soothes that little bit of pain at being sent away. The pain at being left out. The pain of being overlooked or shoved away like they could hide me in a closet and never see me again.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Maeve for taking away my choice. How could I? But I can’t deny that where I am, right now, is better than where I would have put myself.
