Chapter 15 Aisling #2
Not that I’ll ever tell him that.
“You and Raf probably haven’t even had a chance to talk about it yet, have you?” Evi observes, drawing me from my reverie, and I blush as I realize my silence says a lot more than I want it to say.
Giving a nervous laugh, I turn back to my reflection. “No, we’re still… working out the, um, kinks in our everyday communications.”
I know I’ve been terrible about holding up my end of the deal lately.
Raf would be fully within his rights to call me out on my behavior, but he hasn’t—which makes me suspect he’s far more aware of how deeply he hurt me that night than he’s willing to let on.
That’s fine by me. His family might have noticed how… frigid we’ve been. But it’s temporary, and I can pull myself together well enough to put on a performance tonight.
“Well, if you’re happy with the dress,” Evi says, “I actually scheduled someone to come out to the house so we can have something of a spa day—you know, get our hair, makeup, and nails done, just for fun. A little gift for all the hard work we’ve put in on the house.”
Releasing a breathy sigh, I smile. “That sounds perfect.”
It’s 5:15 by the time Evi and I are finished getting ready—and Miko’s wife Anika even came to join us, which made my usually boring and harried day of getting ready for a fancy event a fun girls’ day I’m hoping we can do again before my time here is done.
I’ve spent little time with the Russian beauty I now call a sister-in-law, but it’s clear that she and Evi have a sisterly bond that makes me miss Siobhan in a way I never knew possible.
Anika is less bubbly and warm than Evi, but she’s still astonishingly kind and probably one of the most elegant women I’ve ever met.
From the tips of her platinum-blond hair to her toes, she’s sheer feminine perfection, and I can see why the oldest Chiaroscuro brother fell in love with her.
Honestly, both women are a testament to our sex—and it baffles me that they could be so effervescently happy with the men they were forced to marry.
Even if Miko and Sandro are gods among men in the looks department.
But I bite my tongue on the subject, choosing instead to appreciate the day of laughter and gossip as we get ready for the charity gala.
I take a moment to stand back and watch the girls descend the stairs in their beautiful dresses that Evi made.
Anika goes first in her long-sleeve sapphire-blue velvet sheath dress that’s meant to showcase her adorably prominent baby bump.
And yet, it’s still flattering to her slender collar bones with its boatneck collar, and the thigh-high slit offers a glimpse of her sparkling pumps that I don’t know how she can walk in.
The color does wonders for her already-stunning blue eyes, and her perfectly coifed hair has been pulled up on one side, the deep part making her waves cascade across her other shoulder in a beautiful white-gold waterfall.
But it’s the look on Miko’s face when he sees her that says it all. It doesn’t matter that he’s a cold-blooded killer.
The love he has for his wife could burn cities to the ground, and suddenly, I can understand why Anika might fall for him—because that kind of passion is rare at best.
Then it’s Evi’s turn in her understated champagne-colored tulle ballgown with its attention-getting off-the-shoulders sweetheart neckline embroidered with delicate pink, gold, and green flowers.
The A-line cut combined with the soft, voluminous layers of her skirt mask her baby bump rather than calling attention to it. And she looks like the perfect blend of Belle and Cinderella on their way to the ball.
Sandro meets her at the bottom of the steps, his hands enclosing her slender waist as he pulls her in for a fiery kiss, not bothering to mask his open adoration of her.
Not for the first time, it feels like a punch to the gut to watch someone who looks so much like Raf be so open, so unguarded with his affections.
My feet falter, my hand going to my stomach as I try to regain my breath in the shadows before I’m supposed to make my grand entrance.
Evi insisted upon it, but after watching her and Anika go before me—and now that I see Raf’s two other brothers, Gio and Leo, with their wives waiting in the foyer—I don’t know that I have the courage to do it.
Not when the man who will be waiting at the bottom of the steps for me is so far from the Prince Charming it would seem the other four Chiaroscuro brothers have become.
And they truly are something to behold.
Each of them looks so smitten with their wives that it brings tears to my eyes.
I’m not naturally a jealous person.
I’m so grateful for so many things I have in my life.
But it feels unusually cruel that the one man I could have seen myself falling in love with is the very man who’s only agreed to pretend to love me until we can get our revenge on the Yakuza.
Pull yourself together, Aisling, I command myself. This isn’t about love or marriage or your happiness. This is about your loyalty to your family. About staying strong for the Murray Clan. They’re the ones who matter. And you get to see them tonight. Think about that. Not him.
The silent pep talk gives me the strength I need, and I take one deep, fortifying breath, then square my shoulders, pulling the black mink shawl tighter around my arms, and start my dramatic descent.
“Wow,” Sandro says beside Evi, his arm tightening around his wife’s waist when he sees me.
Evi squeals with delight. “I know, right? I think it might be my masterpiece.”
My cheeks warm at the open appraisal as all eyes turn to me, and Gio’s wife—Stephanie, I believe, with her black peak-a-boo-highlighted pixie—gasps.
“You’ve outdone yourself, Evi,” Leo’s wife, Sora, says, her eyes gleaming.
I only met Sora and Stephanie briefly at the wedding, but I feel an immediate sense of camaraderie with the women for being married into the Chiaroscuro family, and though I know I’m an imposter, it gives me an oddly reassuring sense of encouragement.
Because they’re all looking at me with an open sense of acceptance—even affection.
Though Sora’s expression carries a hint of… pity?
Especially when her eyes turn to Raf.
It makes my stomach tighten, and I swallow painfully as I turn to find the man whose arm I’ll be on for the rest of the evening.
My heart skips a beat.
He looks devastatingly handsome, dressed in a black tux and crimson tie that matches my dress to perfection.
His hair is perfectly styled, the dark locks combed back from his clean shaven face, showing off his sharp hazel eyes and sculpted lips.
The bruises my brothers gave him two weeks ago have all but faded, the slight discoloration at the corner of one eye acting almost like eyeliner and accentuating his impressively thick, dark lashes.
But it’s his stricken expression that makes my pulse flutter.
My hand suddenly feels clammy against the banister. Because he looks almost convincingly like a man who wants his wife.
“You look lovely tonight,” he murmurs, taking my hand and brushing his lips across my knuckles as I reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Thank you,” I say, hoping my makeup effectively masks the intense heat burning in my cheeks.
I take the arm he offers me as I descend the last step.
“I never should have doubted your acting abilities,” I whisper as we all filter out the front door to our waiting limo.
“Looking at me like that, you could almost have me convinced we’re a happy couple. ”
Raf’s snort is soft, and still, it cuts like a knife.
“Don’t kid yourself, focosa. Not everything has to be an act between us. I would have to be blind not to appreciate you in that dress. But I don’t think anyone is under the misimpression that you and I are happy together.”