Chapter 16
FABIANA
Five shot glasses with slices of lime resting on the rims lined Cleo’s kitchen island.
“Okay, ladies,” Zo announced, lifting her glass. “Before our bride gets dragged off to a life of wifely duties and respectable sex—”
“Respectable sex?” Nina cut in with a snort.
“What does that even mean?” Mia asked.
“You know. Missionary with the lights off and a nine-thirty bedtime.”
Cleo snorted. “Don’t listen to her. As the only one here who’s actually married, I can attest to still having lots of disrespectful sex.”
“Cleo!” I hissed, heat rushing into my cheeks. “You’re married to my brother!”
“Sorry!”
Zo cleared her throat. “As I was saying, let’s toast to giving our Fabi a proper send-off.” She grinned and tossed back her shot.
The rest of us followed her lead.
My friends had insisted on a bachelorette party, despite me telling them it wasn’t exactly the best time for it given that the Ferraros were still in mourning.
But Mia had said Romolo didn’t see a problem with it, and apparently, he didn’t think Cosimo would either, which had turned out to be true.
Rom had volunteered his club, Black Silk, as the venue for the night, and Rafe had supplied his own security for us.
So here we were, about to leave the house with four bodyguards in tow and a giant pink limousine waiting outside.
“I still can’t believe you’re getting married,” Nina said as we headed toward the foyer. “It feels like yesterday we were in that dorm room at Valais Academy, and Mia was crying because she thought getting her first period meant she was dying.”
“I was twelve,” Mia said indignantly, grabbing her coat. “And there was a lot of blood.”
“There was also a pamphlet in the bathroom explaining exactly what was happening,” Zo reminded her.
“I was panicking,” Mia said. “I didn’t have time to read.”
I laughed and tried to ignore the uneasy twist in my chest as I followed them toward the front door. My friends thought this was my one and only bachelorette before I married my forever husband. None of them knew the truth. That this marriage was only meant to last six months.
Given how rough things were between Cosimo and me in the beginning, they knew all about my concerns. It had been an awkward pivot to suddenly tell them that we were getting along now.
His father’s death had provided a convenient explanation.
Grief changed people. Pressure changed people.
So maybe it wasn’t that difficult for people to believe that Cosimo’s behavior had shifted.
My friends knew me well though, and I could tell some of them didn’t quite buy it when I smiled and said that he and I were doing great.
Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep this secret forever. Maybe once Cosimo and I had annulled the marriage, and I was living something that resembled a normal life, I could tell them the truth.
But for now, I had to pretend.
We filed out of the house, the limo driver holding the door open while the bodyguards hovered nearby wearing wary expressions. Cleo had already made them put on pink sashes that read The Brideguard. I wasn’t sure the men found them as funny as she did.
The second I looked inside the limo, I burst out laughing. It was stuffed with penis-shaped balloons of every possible size.
“I wanted to be inclusive!” Nina hollered as we got inside. “You should see the ads I’m getting on Facebook now.”
“Oh my God,” I said, covering my face. “You people are deranged.”
Once we got inside and the limo began to move, someone passed around champagne glasses.
Zo lifted hers high. “Here’s to the happy bride.”
“To Fabi,” Cleo added.
“To one last night of freedom,” Nina said with a grin.
Mia smiled at me over the rim of her glass. “And to marrying someone who better be worthy of you.”
My chest tightened. I lifted my own glass and touched it to theirs. “Thanks, guys.”
The champagne fizzed bright and cold on my tongue as the limo pulled away from the curb.
For tonight, I’d let myself pretend this really was what it looked like. A bride on her way to celebrate the beginning of forever, instead of a girl living a lie.
Strobe lights. Bottle girls with sparklers. Dancers writhing in suspended cages.
Recently voted the number one club in New York City, Black Silk felt like a piece of Vegas dropped into the Meatpacking District. After a few hours, I was finally starting to get used to the sensory overload and the way the pounding bass rattled against my ribs.
The shots were also tasting better the longer the night went on.
“Are you ready for the next dare?” Mia called out, swaying on the leather sofa to the beat of the music. “This is the last one. If you do it, you win the grand prize!”
My friends had devised a game for me. Each of them had come up with a dare, and if I completed them all, I won a prize.
I reached inside the sparkly pink hat with the word Bride spelled out in black rhinestones on the side.
“Zo!” I moaned as I read the card I’d just pulled out. “This one is yours. I’m not doing it!”
So far, I’d gotten ten strangers to autograph my arm, convinced the bartender to let me make someone a cocktail, and danced in one of the cages for three horrifying minutes.
But this next one? Yeah, even the competitiveness all the tequila had awakened in me wasn’t enough for me to do it.
Zo peeked over my shoulder and laughed. “I know you said you guys are getting along, but physically, you still haven’t broken the ice.
I’m helping you warm up to each other, all right?
” She pointed at the others. “These three just wanted you to embarrass yourself. I’m the only one being thoughtful! ”
The card said, “Send a racy photo to Cosimo.”
Yeah. No. That was not happening. Not after we’d agreed on very clear boundaries regarding the physical side of our fake marriage.
Although…to be fair, we hadn’t specifically discussed photos.
Personally, I wouldn’t mind if Cosimo sent me a shirtless picture of himself. He had an annoyingly excellent body. Broad shoulders. Narrow hips. The kind of build that made you understand why women throughout history sometimes made questionable decisions when it came to men.
When he’d held me during our photoshoot, I’d felt the hard shift of muscle beneath my hands. And I’d been curious about his tattoos ever since he mentioned them.
I pressed my cold glass to my cheek. I was definitely drunk. But even in my current state, I knew doing this dare was a terrible idea.
“If you don’t do it, you’re going to lose the game!” Nina shouted from across the booth. “And the last prize is the best one.”
I eyed all the prizes I’d gotten already. There was a Valais Vixens—the name we’d given our group back in boarding school—hoodie from Mia, a bracelet with a charm that looked like Yeti from Cleo, and a custom box of chocolates from Nina.
I loved all of them.
Zo’s prize had to be good.
Ugh.
“C’mon, it doesn’t even need to be anything too scandalous,” Zo said. “Trust me, you don’t want to be going into your wedding night with zero momentum.”
“C’mon, Fabi. Live a little.” Cleo handed me another shot glass. “Bottoms up!”
I threw the shot back. Tequila blazed a trail down my throat.
Jesus. My head spun a little as I placed the glass down, but just then, an idea struck me like a bolt of lightning.
Send Cosimo a photo. Then delete it.
It was well past two in the morning. He was likely asleep at home. I could send the photo, show evidence to the girls, and then go straight to the bathroom and get rid of it.
He’d have no idea.
I grinned. Yep, it was brilliant. That prize was going to be mine.
“All right. Let’s do this.”
My friends cheered. I laughed. God, I loved these idiots.
Butt perched on the sofa, I held the phone in front of me and leaned forward. The white bodycon dress I wore had a low V-neck that showed off my cleavage. I opened my mouth, pressed an index finger to my bottom lip, and snapped it.
It was a good shot. Flattering. The kind of photo that made me look like someone who possessed a lot more confidence than I actually did.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I popped it into the chat I had going with Cosimo and pressed send.
Delivered.
Heat spread across the back of my neck.
Time for part two of the plan.
I held the phone out to Zo. “Happy?”
“You won the game!” Zo cheered. “Isn’t our bride-to-be so brave?” She got up onto the table in the center of the booth. “Come up here and dance to celebrate your victory!”
“I’ve got to pee! Where’s my prize?”
“It will reveal itself when the time is right,” she said mysteriously and handed me my purse. “Don’t take too long!”
“Not fair,” I said, rolling my eyes and shimmying out of the booth. Time was ticking. I had to get that photo deleted.
I rushed up the steps and turned down the dim hallway leading to the women’s bathrooms. The VIP area wasn’t that busy, so there was no line. I pushed inside and immediately opened my phone to the message app.
A few taps, and the photo was gone.
Mission accomplished.
I checked my reflection in the mirror to see if I needed to reapply my lipstick. Miraculously, it had held. I leaned in, plucking a stubborn piece of glitter from just below my eye.
Ping.
I looked down at my phone.
It was a text from Cosimo.