8. Juliette
Juliette
E very time I turned around, someone was getting married.
Wynter’s nightmare of a wedding a few months ago. Now Autumn’s marriage to Alessio Russo. Who in the fuck was next? And why were the DiLustros invited, for fuck’s sake?
The venue was beautiful, Japan even more so.
Mountains surrounded us. The soft rushing sounds of the river traveled through the air, mixing with the rustle of the leaves and the scent of cherry blossoms blooming.
If there was ever a time to visit Japan, it was spring.
It was so colorful and vibrant, it would have made a great reception.
If only Dante DiLustro weren’t here.
I downed my Fireball shot and sat on the low retaining wall, a cherry blossom tree rustling behind me.
The loveliness of the setting was tainted by my foul mood.
I took the reception in, the crowds of people mingling and seemingly having a grand ol’ time, as I let the liquor warm me.
I studied my brother from here, his eyes flickering to Emory every so often.
Apart from her looking gorgeous tonight in a soft pink dress, I sensed tension between the two, and I had no idea why.
Well, aside from her being a DiLustro, maybe.
Emory walked by me, headed toward her family, when I stopped her.
“What’s happening between you and my brother?” A frown creased between her brows as she looked at me.
Then she shrugged. “He’s sensitive to the fact I aimed my gun at him when he came for Wynter in Vegas.”
Ahhh. There it was. A man could never handle it when a woman was better than him. Including my own brother.
When Basilio kidnapped Wynter from the hotel room on the last night of the Olympic games, he brought her to Emory’s place in Vegas.
Of course, Dad and Killian stormed the place, ready to level it to the ground.
Obviously, they’d come to an agreement because Wynter ended up marrying Basilio, but it would seem Emory didn’t hesitate to stand by her brother.
“I guess my comment about him playing with the big boys didn’t help,” she added, grinning unapologetically.
The smug grin on her lips reminded me of Dante and instantly my mood soured. It wasn’t her fault that she had that arrogant DiLustro attitude.
“Well, your brother kind of asked for it,” I remarked wryly. Not that any of that would matter anymore. They were married and they were happy.
Emory shrugged. “I wouldn’t have let it happen if Basilio meant her harm. He didn’t. He looked for her for months.”
Tilting my head, I studied her. She was pretty.
Dark hair. Dark eyes. Petite frame. But her strength shone through her eyes.
Like she had seen some shit and had come out on top.
About our age, maybe a year or two older.
Until now, I never really cared to ask her, but it had me wondering what her story was.
I knew from what little Wynter shared that Emory’s brother, Basilio, trusted her as much as he did anyone else in his circle. She was sharp, smart, and pretty.
“Who taught you how to fight?” I blurted out, her taunting of my brother forgotten.
Her expression softened and she smiled. “My cousins and Basilio, mostly.”
“Even though you’re a girl?” It felt like a stupid question, but it wasn’t. Not in the underworld. Women were usually used for alliances or negotiations, but we were never given the power to be strong.
“Exactly for that reason.” When she saw the question in my eyes, she clarified, “They didn’t want me vulnerable. They trained me so I could stand up to any man and not let him fuck with me.”
Okay, one point for the DiLustros. Our family definitely lacked in that department.
“Did it work?” I asked curiously.
“For the most part.” I wanted to know what that meant, but before I could ask, she excused herself. “See you around.”
She left me pondering this revelation. For some reason, it was hard to imagine the DiLustro men training a girl and making her strong enough to kick anyone’s ass. Even my brother’s. Not that I thought she could kick Killian’s ass. Unless he let her.
Ivy joined me, taking a seat next to me, her red hair catching rays of sunshine and glimmering like flames. She looked as thrilled as I was about this wedding halfway across the world.
“These weddings are starting to get on my nerves,” she muttered under her breath, stealing the words out of my mouth. She seemed agitated. It was uncharacteristic of her. Me, not so much. “I’m half expecting the Yakuza to show up.”
Okay, that was going a bit too far.
“What’s going on?” I asked her gently. She just shrugged and I narrowed my eyes on her. She was hiding something. “Ivy?”
Her hazel eyes flitted over my head and I followed her gaze to where Priest DiLustro stood.
“Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on Priest?” I grumbled. A blush crept up her neck, and I shook my head in disbelief. “He couldn’t have been that good.”
“We didn’t go all the way,” she hissed in a low voice.
“Did you even get halfway?” I questioned.
As much as she swooned over Priest, you’d think he wined and dined her, maybe sent her flowers every day.
Yet, as far as I could tell, the two of them barely exchanged a few words.
They had a moment back in Philly last year.
Ivy might have been reluctant to share with me any more details, but from what little she did share was that Priest gave her the very first orgasm.
Apparently, it left a mark on both of them, because the two were constantly glancing at each other.
She waved her hand. “It doesn’t matter because—”
Her voice trailed off, and I waited for her to finish. She didn’t.
“Because?” I urged.
Her eyes traveled over the wedding party, pausing again on Priest. The moment he glanced over, she looked away with her jaw clenched. Her cheeks warmed, but something was off. Almost as if she was uncomfortable.
She met my gaze and swallowed hard. Then as if she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she leaned closer to me.
“Because that guy is crazy,” she whispered.
I scoffed softly. “They’re all crazy. Nothing new or unusual there.”
She shook her head. “Not like him, Jules. He's totally out there. He’d qualify for a mental institution.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell you,” she murmured.
My eyes widened. Ivy never—fucking ever—held back. It had to be something bad. The memories of the one secret I’d never shared flickered in my mind and dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.
“Ivy, did he hurt you?”
Her eyes flew my way, an undignified look in them. “No! As if I’d ever let him.”
The knot in my stomach loosened and I let out a relieved breath. If he’d hurt her, I’d have to murder him. “You’ll tell me if you need help?” She didn’t turn to look at me, so I shifted slightly to lock eyes with her. “Ivy, repeat after me. Juliette, I will tell you if I need your help .”
“Yes, yes. Of course,” she grumbled exasperatedly.
We sat in thick silence, tense yet comfortable as we watched the guests socializing, laughing, and basically making us feel like we might actually be missing out. Some danced. Like Autumn and Alessio. The two couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
My gaze darted to my brother who stood with his fiancée, Branka Russo. I frowned. I really liked Branka, but I couldn’t seem to picture my brother and her for the rest of their lives. They just seemed too stiff around each other. I wondered what Alessio thought of his sister marrying Killian.
My brother said something and Branka turned toward him. The smile on her face was forced. Almost painful. Maybe I should help Killian.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Ivy and headed in their direction. Branka’s hair was styled in a fancy updo and her makeup was immaculate. She looked breathtaking. Closing the distance with the two of them, I smiled.
“Nice hair,” I said. “Will you wear it that way for your wedding?”
She met my eyes and something in their depths reminded me of that exact feeling I got every time I thought about a man on top of me: chest squeezed tight. Panic swelled. My ears buzzed.
My gaze shot to my brother. Could he see it? He didn’t see it in me and something told me he didn’t see it in Branka.
“Not sure.” Branka murmured her answer. Killian excused himself and left us to our conversation. It was clear he didn’t have much interest in the wedding either.
“What are we not sure about?” Autumn said as she joined our group. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, but it was her face that stole the show. She fucking glowed.
“Wedding hair,” Branka replied, forcing another smile.
“Ah.” Autumn smiled in understanding and reached over to give her best friend’s hand a squeeze. “We have a little time to decide.”
I kept my expression blank. Killian and Branka’s wedding was fast approaching and we were down to weeks, but I didn’t point it out.
Instead, I just said, “Congratulations. It seems as though it’s the season of weddings. Davina, Wynter, Autumn, next is Killian. I don’t know if I can take much more of it.”
Wynter and Ivy joined in.
“You’ll take more of it and like it,” Ivy said wryly. My eyes shot her way. Didn’t she just complain about the weddings herself? Talk about whiplash. “Stop being a wedding grinch.”
My eyebrows jumped up to my hairline.
“I’m not a wedding grinch,” I insisted. “But you have to admit. It’s all a bunch of fuss for nothing.”
Wynter being Wynter had an answer for that. “It’s not for nothing. Two human beings pledge their love and devotion to one another for the rest of their lives.”
I rolled my eyes. “And when life is cut short? For either husband or wife. How do you move on?”
“Well, you continue with the knowledge that he or she would want you to be happy.”
What a bunch of bollocks. She didn’t actually believe her husband would want her to carry on without him. Did she? All you had to do was look at Basilio to know that fucker would come back to life just to chase any man away from Wynter.