Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
VIVIANA
I stare at my reflection in the mirror and smile. An elegant young woman in a red evening dress smiles back at me.
Mrs. Ajello is a miracle worker. There’s no other way to explain it.
The cowl neck feeds into a pomegranate satin that clings to my body when I move certain ways, creating the illusion of curves where I’ve long since given up hope of developing them. The back opens elegantly down to the base of my spine, held together by two sets of criss-cross straps. Paired with black heels and a shining clutch, it’s a dress fit for a Bond girl.
Hot curlers left my hair with effortless, retro curls, and Mrs. Ajello promised that a cherry lip gloss would pop against the red of my dress. She was right. I feel beautiful.
I feel like the woman in the mirror fits the future don of the Cosa Nostra.
There’s a knock from my bedroom door, and my heart jumps to my throat in anticipation. I’ve been waiting for Luc to return from the city all day, and the party at his parent’s home starts in a matter of minutes.
Smoothing my hands over the satin covering my thighs, I spin to the door. “Come in.”
To my disappointment, Lex pokes his head in. “Miss Viviana, we should head out…”
He trails off. The whites of his eyes expand like saucers as his gaze sweeps over my body once, then again. In our time together, I’ve learned that Lex is a man of few words, but I’ve never seen him truly speechless.
“That bad, huh?” I tease, and I have to fight against pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Mrs. Ajello would kill me if I ruined her masterpiece of lip-liner and gloss.
Lex chuckles. Though I still think he’d like to wring my neck sometimes, the personal bodyguard has certainly warmed up to me in the past week. “Quite beautiful. You’re only missing a crown.”
I pray the blush that clouds my cheeks doesn’t clash with my dress.
“Careful,” I warn, stepping away from the mirror. “If you keep on complimenting me, I might think you actually like me, Lexington.”
Lex’s smile falls, transforming into a scowl. He hates when anyone uses his full first name, chosen by his very un-Italian mother. Apparently, his father didn’t have the balls to tell her no and demand a more traditional name after she spent twenty hours pushing a ten-pound bowling ball out of her vagina.
“You certainly have the attitude of a queen,” he grumbles, crossing his monstrous arms against his chest. “Come on, then. We’re meeting Luciano at his parent’s home. He needed to meet with his father before the engagement party begin.”
My face falls, more disappointment setting in. Inwardly, I’d hoped for some time alone with Luc before we went to the celebration honoring the impending nuptials of one of his cousins. According to Mrs. Ajello, it’s a formal party thrown by the don to demonstrate that he gives his blessing for the marriage.
Although Luc and I texted occasionally over the last week, I can’t deny that I’m eager to see him again. Perhaps that makes me foolish. After all, his responsibilities to the family must come first. A proper don’s wife would know and accept that.
“Of course.”
Lex leads me from the bedroom, offering me his hand as we descend the stairs to the foyer. As we pass by the seven-foot, potted Fiddle Leaf Fig I installed in front of the Jackson Pollock painting, my spirits lift. The lush foliage obscures the bottom half of the abstract painting, and I’m hopeful it’ll grow even taller.
There’s a car already waiting outside—a small mercy considering my feet already ache from these heels—and Lex helps me climb inside. It’s not until we’re pulling away from the English manor styled home that the nerves set in.
I haven’t been to a formal Cosa Nostra party in six years. My parents didn’t even allow me to attend Luc and Elenora’s own engagement party.
The knowledge that I’ll have Luc by my side should be a consolation, but it only mounts more pressure. After my conversation with Allegra last week, doubt slips into my mind. What if Luc is embarrassed by me? What if I accidentally do something that brings him shame?
My bowels twist.
Three impossibly short minutes later, the town car arrives at my in-law’s home. Even once Lex stops the car and opens the door, I remain in the back seat, hands clasped tight on my clutch.
“Viviana?” He pokes his head into the car and frowns.
I look up at him, still seated. “Are you coming in, too?”
He nods slowly. “Yes, but you won’t even know I’m there.”
That’s not what I was concerned about when I asked, but I smile and pivot my legs to rise from the car. “If it’s not going well, you’ll be able to take me back home, right?”
Lex’s eyes soften. “I’ll be your getaway driver, if it comes to that.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching his forearm as he closes the car door, hands the keys to one of the valets, and leads me to the front entrance. “Do you know where Luc is?”
“He must be inside. Maybe he’s still meeting with Don Girardo.”
Great. Just great.
When we reach the door, I force myself to let go of his beefy arm . One of the attendants opens the door, gesturing for me to walk through. I pause in the threshold and glance at Lex one last time. “ Wish me luck.”
“You won’t need it, Viviana.”
His kind words stay with me as I step into the extravagantly decorated foyer.
At least a dozen individuals crowd the space, sipping on flutes of champagne. Large white floral arrangements line the walls, and a strange combination of expensive perfume, freshly cooked hors d’oeuvres, and candle smoke wafts through the air. Every woman is dressed to the nines, and the men wear finely tailored suits or tuxedos.
No one looks at me when I enter, and my eyes roam in wonderment as I slip into the adjoining room. A servant approaches and offers me a glass of champagne, which I readily accept, taking two long gulps to calm my nerves.
More members of the Cosa Nostra elite fill the living space that has been converted into a ballroom for the occasion. Mrs. Ajello informed me that the main house prepared for at least fifty individuals to be in attendance this evening, but now I think she might’ve grossly underestimated the number of guests.
I catch the attention of a small group of older men and women, husbands and wives if I had to guess. One of the women smiles, while the other narrows her eyes in my direction, and both of the men pay closer attention to my body than my face.
Pigs. Tucking my clutch beneath my arm and taking another hasty sip of champagne, I duck in the opposite direction. I haven’t made it far before I feel the weight of more gazes on my exposed back, and I suddenly wish that I’d worn a more inconspicuous color. It dawns on me that, without Luc by my side, no one knows I’m his wife. I can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.
Seeking refuge in the corner behind one of the grand flower arrangements, I drink my champagne and observe the entirety of the party. As much as I dislike my mother-in-law as a person, Allegra knows how to host one hell of an engagement celebration.
My gaze sweeps the room in search of the couple-of-the-hour. It doesn’t take long to find them. The bride-to-be wears a shimmering white satin gown, and I’m grateful Luc warned me not to wear the color. Her hair, long and the deepest shade of chestnut, rivals Elenora’s, and a dazzling smile adorns her lips. She looks happy, tucked close to the side of a tall man in a tuxedo whose back faces me.
They’re a stunning couple. I wonder if their marriage was arranged or came naturally, with initial attraction and a proper courtship—a rarity in our world.
“Don’t you know it’s impolite to outshine the future bride at her own engagement party?” A vaguely familiar male voice drawls from beside me. Gio Venturi leaning against a pillar beside me, a lupine smirk gracing his mouth.
Relieved to have found a friendly face, I exhale and shake my head. “You do realize you don’t have to try to flatter me? I’m already forced to like you because you’re my brother-in-law.”
He clutches a hand over his heart and pouts. “You wound me, Viviana. You should know by now that Venturi men do not hand out compliments unless we mean them.”
I think back on the times that Luc has praised me—most notably when he said he was proud after the car chase. I’d seen nothing but sincerity in his eyes. Though he doesn’t offer compliments often, when he does , it’s real.
With a snort, I lean back against the wall and return my gaze to the bride. My dress clings to my body with the movement, accentuating the curve of my hips. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Gabriella Morrone. Her family has been close friends with our own for decades. It was inevitable she’d end up married to a Venturi man.”
My brows lift. “Her fiancé is a Venturi?”
Gio nods. “Our cousin.”
I cock a brow and shoot him a smirk. “What? She didn’t like you?”
He chuckles and swipes a new flute of champagne from a passing server. When he returns to my side, he shakes his head. “No. She always preferred my brother. It’s her loss, of course.”
My heart thunders to a halt in its cage.
He’s teasing, completely unaware of the effect that his words have. That gorgeous woman once held a flame for Luciano? Perhaps she still does.
I down the rest of my champagne in two quick gulps. “Of course,” I choke out with a small laugh. “Have you seen Luc? He said he’d meet me here, but I haven’t found him, yet.”
“Ah,” Gio hums. “That explains why you’re alone.”
A frown forms on my forehead. “What do you mean by that?”
His dangerously flirtatious smirk grows. “Just that my brother isn’t likely to let you leave his side once he sees you in that devastating getup.” Gio flicks his gaze up and down my body once before wrapping his arm around my lower back and guiding me away from my corner. “Come, let’s find him. I saw him not too long ago.”
I allow Gio to lead me through the masses, slipping around the edge of the dance floor as the live quartet strikes up a melody for the next dance. Couples join one another at the center of the room, including the bride and groom-to-be.
I take the opportunity to study Gabriella Morrone further. She’s tall—at least five inches taller than me—and her mermaid-style gown does little to hide the generous swell of her backside. As we draw closer, I notice that the bodice of her gown is sheer, displaying her tan, toned skin from hip to breast. It’s hardly traditional attire for a bride in the Cosa Nostra, begging to be admired and feasted upon by all who behold her within it.
My cheeks grow warm. I can’t fault her for looking like a model, but I also can’t help the jealousy that flares in my chest, nor my thoughts from immediately assuming that she must’ve worn such a dress to capture a certain ex-flame’s attention… Get a hold of yourself, I warn.
Gio brings us to a stop in the entryway between the ballroom and the foyer, raising his glass in the direction of the entrance. “There he is.”
Lo and behold, Luc stands a few paces from the large double doors. He’s wrapped in a discussion with another man and woman, but, every few seconds, he looks toward the mansion’s front entry, as if expecting someone to walk in at any moment.
“Thank you, Gio.” I squeeze his forearm as he unravels it from my back, then start toward my husband.
God, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. With a navy blazer over a tight-fitting dress shirt and navy chinos, he’s dressed more casually than many other men at the party, but that only adds to the air of power radiating off of him. Why would the king dress to impress the nobles, after all?
I hasten to reach his side, my steps surprisingly confident despite my obscene heels.
Luc glances to the front door as it opens again, and his eyes darken when an older man passes through. The veins in his hand are prominent as he brings a glass of whiskey to his lips, as if he’s clutching the tumbler too tight. His mouth moves as he responds to something that his companion said, then his gaze sweeps over the room once more.
I’m halfway across the foyer when he sees me, and his features transform. Palpable relief pools behind icy gray, and he gives the smallest hint of a smile that takes my breath away.
He excuses himself from his conversation, clapping the man on the shoulder once in farewell, though he never breaks eye contact with me. Not until we’re face-to-face, and he opens his arms for me.
It’s not the greeting I expected from him, especially not when we’re surrounded by so many members of the famiglia, but I am helpless to refuse. I rush into his arms, suddenly desperate to touch him again.
“ Cattivella,” he purrs in my ear, drawing me into his chest. He exhales, and I feel him relax the moment I’m secured in his embrace. One arm wraps around my back, and the other hand buries into my hair, cradling the nape of my neck. “Have you been here long?”
I pull back before I accidentally smear makeup across his blazer and shake my head. “Just fifteen minutes or so. Gio kept me company.”
“I’m sure he did,” Luc grumbles, half under his breath. His hand moves to cup my cheek, tenderly stroking the highest point of my cheekbone. Finally, he tears his eyes away from my face and properly takes in my ensemble.
The softness in his gaze hardens immediately, and I feel his eyes like a lover’s caress down my front. They slip from my neck to the dainty diamond jewelry nestled between my breasts, lingering there for a moment before sweeping down the corseted bustier. Hunger darkens his features, and my pulse quickens at the thrill of being the object of his desire.
“You weren’t very clear in your instructions,” I quip, smoothing a hand down the front of the red satin and smirking. “I hope this dress meets your expectations?”
He shrugs, and a smile lights his eyes. “It’ll suffice, I suppose.”
Though his words seem cold and disinterested, the truth of his sentiments toward the gown is evident in the way he wraps a long, strong arm behind me and slides his palm up my back. His calloused fingers send shivers skittering down my spine as they slip beneath the criss-cross straps.
I’m pressed to his front once more, one of my hands landing on his chest. His skin feels hot beneath his white dress-shirt, and I swear his breaths come faster as he leans down to whisper in my ear. “You’re breathtaking, Viviana.”
A furious blush swarms my cheeks, though my face is hidden by his broad chest. Around us, conversations have ceased as men and women stop to feast in the sight of their don and his new wife. “Thank you.”
“You’re not to leave my side tonight. I’ve had a hellish week, and I want you all to myself.” His hand drifts low on my back, nearly slipping beneath the fabric just above my ass.
Heat stirs in my belly, even as I release a small, unaffected laugh.
“What’s so funny?” He asks.
“Gio guessed you’d say that,” I tease, picking an invisible fleck of dust from his jacket. It’s easy to focus on Luc and pretend that the rest of the party does not exist. “Unfortunately, you’re quite predictable.”
Luc chuckles, a deep baritone that I feel between my legs. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“ Actually, I quite like it. You’re like a well-trained dog.”
He pinches a bit of muscle at the top of my ass, and I jerk away, barely containing a yelp.
“I’m kidding!” I plead, before continuing. “I’m sorry you had a bad week.” Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I dare to ask the question that has been weighing on my mind since returning to Bedford. “Were you looking for the men who followed us after breakfast?”
He tenses again, as if just the reminder dampens his good mood. I run my fingers down his chest, tracing the top ridges of his abdomen in an effort to ease his mind.
He grinds his teeth together, his nostrils flaring. “They’ve proven to be difficult to find. There were… other matters to take care of, as well.”
He doesn’t expand on the subject, and I have to force myself not to push. If something pertinent happens, I trust him to tell me. Until then, I’m strangely excited to try to offer a distraction while he’s in Bedford.
Risking a smile, I dare to cup his cheek. He trimmed the scruff on his jaw for this party, leaving a faint dusting of stubble. “Since I’m being forced to stay by your side all night, do you think I could get a da—”
I don’t get the chance to finish my request.
A long, beautifully manicured finger taps on Luc’s shoulder. He turns around, and I have to sidestep away from his big frame to view the newest arrival. My heart gutters at the shimmering white silk standing before us.
“Luciano—” Gabriella Morrone looks at my husband like he hung the moon and stars. “I’d like to thank you again for gifting us your blessing for our marriage. Could I interest you in a dance?”