Twelve
Ava
As I step into the hall and take in the absurd luxury of a child’s birthday party, a nervous flutter hits my stomach, and I silently thank Maxim for warning me in advance to wear something appropriate. The luxurious venue is overflowing with balloons in every possible size and color.
At the far end, under a rainbow arch made entirely of balloons, a small table awaits the cake-cutting.
In front of it, nestled between two massive blue bounce houses, more tiny tables and chairs are arranged, giving the room a ridiculous fairytale vibe.
The room is overflowing with flowers and giant models of unicorns and various Disney characters.
Over the loud children’s music, I hear Aurora’s excited voice tugging at my hand. “Mama, look! Elsa!”
Right then, a young woman dressed and made up like Elsa walks over to greet us warmly.
She kneels down and gently asks Aurora’s name.
My girl’s cheeks flush with excitement and a little shyness.
The woman then asks if she may take Aurora to her table.
I force myself not to stare like an idiot, I don’t want anyone to see how stunned I am by the extravagance of it all.
I glance at Maxim, standing beside me in a tailored suit. He fixes the young woman with a firm, commanding look. “You’ll keep a close eye on her. Understood?”
She nods with a polite smile. “Yes, sir.”
Then she takes Aurora’s hand and leads her away. In her poofy, cotton-candy-pink dress and high ponytail, Aurora looks like a little angel. She’s so mesmerized by her beloved Elsa that she doesn’t even hesitate to leave my side, something that’s very unlike her.
Maxim notices too and mutters under his breath, slightly irritated, “I seriously need to train that girl so she doesn’t run after every dickhead in a damn Elsa costume.”
His tone makes me laugh quietly, and honestly, I don’t blame him. I follow Aurora with my eyes as she sits down at a small table next to Gabriel and Luca.
Another young woman in a short red dress walks up and politely offers to take our gift.
I hand it over gratefully, and at that moment, I feel Maxim pulling away.
I turn and see him heading toward the section with tables set up for the parents.
A wave of discomfort sweeps over me. I don’t know anyone here, and clearly, Maxim doesn’t intend to stick by my side.
Scanning the room, I spot Emily standing in a corner, chatting with another woman. She’s wearing a long burgundy-purple dress with an embroidered bodice, her hair pinned up to show off her beautifully sculpted shoulders. I let out a soft breath of relief and walk toward her.
She turns as I approach, and a warm smile spreads across her face. Unlike her husband, who’s about as warm as a marble statue, Emily radiates kindness and a sense of calm that feels almost holy. She sets down her glass of red wine and reaches out her hand. I take it with a soft greeting.
She gives me a once-over and smiles. “You look stunning, Ava.”
I thank her, silently grateful for the expensive black dress hugging my body in all the right places, ridiculously expensive and apparently worth every cent. I return the compliment with a smile, and she turns to the woman beside her.
“This is Ava, Aurora’s mother,” she says. “And this is Bianca, Paolo’s wife. Paolo’s one of Carlo’s business associates.”
Bianca looks like she’s in her early forties, with elegant features sharp enough to turn heads. She’s dressed in a long turquoise gown, her jet-black hair styled into an elegant updo. She greets me warmly, asks about Aurora with genuine warmth, then politely excuses herself to join another table.
Emily takes my hand and leads me to her table.
As we move between groups, I feel the weight of curious eyes on me.
I don’t return anyone’s gaze. We arrive at a round table where Maxim, Carlo, and three other men are deep in conversation.
Carlo acknowledges my greeting with a brief nod and goes back to speaking with Maxim.
Of the others, I only recognize Brando, Carlo’s brother. A handsome blond man who once showed up at the house unannounced, saying he wanted to meet Maxim’s daughter.
Emily signals a server to fill my glass. She lightly clinks her glass against mine and takes a slow sip.
I turn my head and feel the piercing stares of several women fixed on me. Maxim’s warning has put my mind on high alert, and I’m bracing for a potential confrontation at any moment.
Emily sets her glass on the table. “Why do you look so tense?”
“Maxim warned me about some of the women here. I keep expecting one of his lovers to come at me,” I answer honestly.
She gives me a poised smile and lowers her voice. “As long as you’re with me, You don’t need to be scared of anyone. No one here would dare mess with me.”
I let my gratitude color my tone. “Thank you, Emily.”
Glancing discreetly around, I ask, “How many women here do you think Maxim’s been with?”
Her voice takes on a playful, mischievous tone. “Take a guess!”
A mix of disappointment and jealousy surges through my veins. I sigh. “It’s not hard to guess.”
Carlo’s deep in conversation with Maxim, but every few moments, he glances at us, then at his sons.
Another wave of excited squeals erupts from the kids’ area. I turn and see Disney princesses entering one by one, making the kids lose their minds. Parents rush over to snap photos of their kids, and Emily and I join the crowd.
After the cake is cut, signaling the end of the formalities, fathers start dancing with their daughters and mothers with their sons.
Maxim kneels in front of Aurora, extending his hand. “May I have this dance, my beautiful lady?”
Aurora takes his hand, beaming as she says, “Yes, Daddy!”
He scoops her into his arms, and they head to the dance floor. I watch my daughter’s joyful face with a smile when a voice beside me says, “You have a beautiful daughter.”
I turn to see the woman speaking, and she’s stunning. Even animated Elsa would pale in comparison. Beside her stands a younger woman with vivid emerald eyes and glossy black hair.
“Thank you. That’s kind of you.”
She extends her hand and introduces herself. “I’m Viola. This is my cousin, Marta.”
I shake her hand gently. “Nice to meet you. I’m Ava.”
My brain starts doing the math. If they’re cousins, the odds of Maxim having slept with both are lower. Because if he had, they’d probably be at each other’s throats right now. Now I just need to wait and see which one turns out to be the heartbroken ex.
Marta gestures toward my hair. “You’re not pure Italian, are you?”
There’s nothing wrong with her question, but the tone? It makes me suspect she’s one of Maxim’s scorned lovers.
I keep my smile steady. “I was born and raised in Italy.”
It’s the truth, and it follows Maxim’s rule of giving nothing away.
Viola jumps back in with a pleasant smile. “Riccardo keeps talking about Aunt Ava with the beautiful red hair. And Aurora, she’s obsessed with her Elsa doll.”
I raise a questioning brow. She clarifies, “Diego is Marta’s brother.”
Ah. That explains it. Diego is Emily’s bodyguard, and I used to take care of his son, Riccardo.
Viola continues, “So I guess you met Maxim back then.”
“Maxim and I have a... complicated history.”
She tilts her head, her smile never wavering. “That’s odd, because the rumors say otherwise. For girls like you, a cheap bracelet’s usually enough to spread their legs.”
There it is. Confirmation of which one Maxim left high and dry.
My blood simmers, but I keep my face calm.
She’s not done. “The rest isn’t hard to guess. You saw your chance, maybe even got help from a torn condom, and locked down your future with Maxim’s baby.”
Noticing my deepening frown, she flashes a sugary sweet smile I’d love to rip right off her face. “I’m not judging you, darling. No one here is. Plenty of whores have made a living the same way. Not everyone gets to be born into old-money families like ours.”
I give her a fake smile. “You’ve got quite the imagination. I admire the effort you put into crafting a story about me and Maxim. But to make at least one part of your little fantasy true, add this to the end.”
I step closer and lower my voice. “Maxim stood by Ava, a girl from the lower class. But Viola? A girl from your world? He used her, and tossed her in the trash.”
I take a step back and smirk. “Right where she belongs.”
Marta snaps, spitting out a curse as she takes a step forward, but Viola grabs her arm and nods past me.
I turn to find Emily walking over.
She steps beside me and gently strokes my arm, never once glancing at the other two.
“Come on. Let’s take some pictures with the kids. I told Carlo to join Maxim so we can get a real family photo for the album.”
Her voice is calm, but the message is loud and clear.
Viola and Marta greet her politely.
Emily barely turns her head. “Viola, I didn’t recognize you with that hair color. It really washes you out. And Marta…”
She gives her a slow, mocking once-over. “You look the same.”
Her voice drips with disdain, and I fight the urge to laugh out loud.
Like brushing off two annoying flies, she turns away from them and walks me off.
“If they upset you,” she murmurs, “just say the word. I’ll erase them from existence by tomorrow.”
She’s deadly serious, but I shake my head. “I handled it myself.”
“Good girl.”
The kids are taken to a special room in the hotel for a nap, allowing the adults to move on to the dinner and dancing portion of the event.
Dinner’s brought out, and I stick to Emily like a child clinging to her mother’s skirt.
But after dinner, Emily and Carlo head to the dance floor, leaving me alone.
I scan the room for Maxim and spot him under the dim stage lights, dancing—no, practically grinding—with a woman. My breath catches when I realize it’s that wretched Viola, smirking viciously at me as she sways in his arms. A sharp stab of jealousy and humiliation tears through my heart.