19. Zira
ZIRA
“Hold still.” Ivy gently places her fingers under my chin and peels off the last part of the lip stain, then she stands back to admire her work. “Perfect! Do you want to see?”
My heart flutters nervously in my chest as I nod and take her offered hand as I stand. With a warm smile, she leads me out of her closet and into the bedroom she shares with Ruslan, then positions me before the mirror.
“Well? What do you think?”
I can’t speak.
Ivy kindly lent me a gorgeous blue party dress that hugs all of my curves in ways I didn’t know existed.
The curves of the fabric around my bust shift into a plunging neckline where sheer sparkly material connects the connecting sides of the blue fabric.
It closes together just above my navel where the dress flows into a loose skirt that swishes and caresses my legs each time I turn and admire myself.
Smoothly running my hands down the bodice, I study the silver necklace glittering against my breastbone, then up to the deep, dark red lipstick and shimmering silver makeup glittering around my eyes.
Ivy curled my hair into loose waves that drape over one shoulder, held in place by a glittering hairclip at the back that’s tucked in so neatly that not a single hair pulls.
“I didn’t know my tits could look so good,” I blurt out, and both my hands fly to my cheeks. “I didn’t know I could look this good.”
“Oh, honey!” Ivy gently nudges my arm. “You’re beautiful! Have you never dressed up before?”
I shake my head, unable to stop caressing the butter-soft fabric of the dress. “I’ve never had the time. Or the reason.” Or the money, but I don’t say that part out loud.
“It wasn’t something I excelled at, but Valentina taught me so much ever since I met her. That woman knows glamor.”
I blink, and tears warm in my eyes, making me sniffle, and I duck my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Zira!” Suddenly, Ivy’s hugging me and the urge to cry comes on in a stronger wave. “You’ll ruin my makeup if you cry!”
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“I do.” She hugs me tighter. “Your life has been hell these past few weeks and now you have a moment to embrace being human again. It’s a crazy feeling.
Trust me, I know.” As she leans back, she lightly adjusts my hair and caresses my cheek.
“It’s natural to feel that way, but please, my artistry on your face is delicate. ”
My tears ease as I laugh with her, delicately dabbing at my eyes to keep my mascara and liner in place. “I used to stare at magazines when I was a kid and wish I were the pretty woman on the cover.”
“Now you are the pretty woman.” Ivy grins. “You always were. You were just hidden under T-shirts and jeans.”
I gaze past her and back to the mirror, scarcely able to believe it’s me I’m staring at, and I hold that admiration until Ivy’s phone buzzes to life and she beams excitedly.
“Time to go!”
I can’t remember the last time I was at a birthday party, never mind one as extravagant as this.
Hosted at a bar deep within the city, the entire place is closed to the public and yet it’s still heaving with people.
Party streamers and banners hang from the ceiling, birthday balloons drift in clusters attached to every booth, a chocolate fountain bubbles next to a champagne one, and music glides through the air as if the notes are just as luxurious as everything else here.
Even the bartenders are dressed to the nines in sparkling suits that glitter like disco balls in the lights. Ruslan gets a good, hearty laugh at the sight of her and all but devours Ivy in a kiss.
It’s heartwarming to see and this place is beautiful, but what stands out to me is Bradley.
Bradley, whom I need to shake off this evening so I can sneak away and call my brother.
Revealing that I’ve been in contact with him feels like a risky move since I can’t decide if he means it that his protection will extend to my brother, and if there’s a chance the two of us can just sneak away now that Harris is dead, then I want to take that chance.
But it’s proving harder than I thought because when Bradley walked into the party twenty minutes after Ivy and I arrived, he took my breath away.
The man’s usually dressed in crisp white shirts and black pants as if his entire life is important meeting after important meeting, but tonight he turns up wearing a light pink T-shirt that threatens to burst at the seams every time he takes a deep breath and dark blue jeans that hug his muscular legs and amazing ass with the closeness of a lover.
I can barely stop gawking at how sexy he looks, and the feeling’s apparently mutual given the wide-eyed look he gave me the moment we met at the bar.
Ever since, he hasn’t left my side, and I bask in the heat of his gaze constantly locked onto me as we share two cocktails that taste far too fruity to contain any alcohol.
I almost want to pretend that we’re two different people, two strangers who have bumped into one another at the bar and have hit it off immediately. It’s a shallow fantasy since Bradley seems like a deeper man than that, but it’s nice to catch him staring.
Ignoring the anxious bubbles that rise in me when I consider how attractive he is, or the background thoughts of feeling shallow for being insanely attracted to him just because he changed his clothes, I focus on how good he smells and how, when our eyes meet, his smile is genuine.
“Something on my face?” Bradley asks, and despite how deep and soft his voice is, I still hear him perfectly over the sound of the music.
“No. Sorry. I was just mulling over the dangers of cocktails that taste this good. I could drink three and never know there’s alcohol until I stand.”
“Ah, three is your limit, then?” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’ll keep an eye on that, then.”
“Going to count my drinks?”
“No, but if you need to be carried out of here, then I’m happy to oblige.”
“How gentlemanly.”
“I try.”
A soft cheer rises up from the other side of the bar and Bradley glances over his shoulder. “I have to make some rounds. Come with me.”
“Is that a request or an order?”
“Well.” He leans up from the bar with a deep breath. “My promise to protect you doesn’t end just because we’re with friends. But it is still a request. One with gentle insistence.”
“Because without your supervision, I’ll drink more than three of these?” I tip my empty glass toward him, which sends the cherry stem swirling in the glass.
“Precisely.” Bradley holds out his arm to me. “Shall we?”
My heart skips a beat at how gentlemanly he’s being and I lean into it, ducking my head slightly and curling my hand around his elbow. “We shall.”
We find Cassian first who stands near the DJ booth in a loose-fitting, flowing white shirt and cargo pants.
He’s tall with a beautiful smile and tawny skin that appears amber under the low lights.
Running his hand through his close-cropped hair, he bites his lower lip as he studies the vinyl in his hand.
“Cassian?” Bradley prompts as we walk closer. “Didn’t we agree you wouldn’t be in charge of the music?”
“Harsh,” Cassian replies, placing one hand on his chest. “You wound me.”
“Like you’d wound our ears?”
“Bad music taste?” I ask, swallowing my nerves at the prospect of a real conversation with a tall, muscular man also embroiled in this strange Mafia world.
“Taste is subjective,” Cassian replies.
“Which means yes,” says Bradley. “There’s a time and a place for wind instruments.”
“You’re so uncultured,” Cassian mutters. “This is why you have infinitely more wrinkles than I. Stress ages you like overly ripe fruit.”
“Ouch!” Bradley snorts softly. “I’m still not letting you near the music.”
“Save yourself, Zira,” Cassian says and he points at me with the vinyl. “He’ll go after your passions next and before you know it, you’ll be a couple of overripe prunes. Save yourself!”
Bradley guides me away with a laugh, and I wave goodbye to Cassian. Our next stop is the birthday boy, Ruslan, who’s decorated in a banner declaring him as such and a paper crown sitting lopsided on his head.
“Bradley!” Ruslan throws his arms around us both, pulling me into the hug as well, almost as if we’re all friends. “Are you having a good time?”
The soft mellow of his cologne mingles with the sharper scent of alcohol which, given the beer bottle clutched in his hand, proves he’s definitely enjoying himself.
“Happy birthday,” I greet as he steps back and Ruslan’s eyes widen.
“Holy shit, you look beautiful! Ivy told me she was proud, but wow. Wow. Don’t you think, Bradley?”
I glance at Bradley, and when our eyes meet, for a second, the world stops spinning and the only thing I hear is his agreement.
“Beautiful, indeed.”
My heart lurches and warmth surges to my face, but luckily, Ruslan distracts us both.
“Have you had drinks? Food? The caterer is in the back if you need anything. Apparently, there’s a chef too, so everything is taken care of.”
“We’re cared for,” Bradley replies. “Enjoy yourself, Ruslan. You deserve it.”
“You definitely have been drinking,” Ruslan laughs, and he slaps Bradley on the back. “I love you, man.”
The warmth between them, between all of them, is unmistakable. It might just be the allure of the party, but there’s something about this group that makes me feel at ease for the first time in my life.
Maybe that cocktail was stronger than I thought.
We find Frank playing cards with Raven who remains in jeans paired with a sparkly green top, and Valentina who wears a silver dress that hugs her body so perfectly, it makes her look like she was dipped in silver and placed nearby as decoration.
“Your dress is beautiful,” I say as my heart hammers wildly in my chest.
Valentina is somewhat terrifying given her sharp, gorgeous features and the slightly dangerous air about her. She looks at everything and everyone with a slight shadow of disdain in her eyes, and I fight not to take it personally as she glances me up and down.
“As do you. Ivy’s dress?”
I nod quickly.