Chapter 15 #2
My mouth drops open and Courtney reaches forward to push it closed with one manicured finger. The smile on her face says she’s enjoying every bit of this.
This could be a disaster.
While Abi’s cool, and Mom seems happy . . . there are going to be plenty of people at the Gala who’ll take one look at Nana Russo and give the look, pretending to be charmed while being sanctimonious and looking down their noses at the working-class family.
Knowing what I know of Nana and Aunt Sofia, they might end up snatching a few wigs and causing a scene . . . which is exactly what Violet would want to avoid. She’s nervous enough about her family starting to show up and the craziness the wedding might devolve into.
“Fine, Violet and I will come, but her family can’t exactly drop everything and attend a gala, Mom. I’m not even sure if Papa can get around that well right now.”
“Well, whoever can come, they should.” It should be a welcoming thing to say, but it sounds like a directive.
“I’ll have Karl schedule them for a fun day of relaxation—manicures and hair treatments and dress shopping, our treat, of course.
Goodness knows, they deserve it with everything going on with Maria’s dad. ”
“I’ll see and let you know.” It’s the best I can do for right now. Maybe I can get them out of this later, somehow? I’ll tell Mom that I asked and they couldn’t come because . . . of something. I’ll figure it out.
But fuck, I committed Violet and me to going. There’s no getting out of that.
She’s won either way.
“I gotta go, Mom,” I say wearily. Between Dad and Mom, I’ve got whiplash so hard, my brain’s spinning. Dad wishes Violet would just go away, and Mom is trying to bring her whole family into the fold.
“Oh, of course, dear. Thank you for your help, Courtney!” she calls out as she hangs up. Court grins, knowing full well what she helped Mom do.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask Courtney, almost as mad at her as I am at Mom and Dad.
Her face falls. “Look, Ross. I like Violet, and I don’t know what you two are up to.
Hell, maybe you really are in love. I don’t know, really.
But you need to do this. It’s how our family works, within our walls, within the society pages, and within the upper crust. You get engaged, you show each other off, parading around like show ponies for Mom and Dad.
By not doing that, you’re raising more eyebrows. ”
I hadn’t realized just how sharply perceptive she is. Nor that I hadn’t considered that by hiding away, we would be more suspicious. I was hoping for a bit of ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ Honestly, I was hoping to just rush headlong through any barriers and get to the finish line of the altar.
She gets up and struts to the door but pauses and looks back. “Don’t hurt her, Ross. Violet’s a good person. Just don’t hurt her.”
I can’t stop the bitterness that flies off my tongue. “And what does that make me?”
Her answering smile is sad. “Just unaware, big brother. Maybe a bit immature, still, but that’s okay. It’s one of the reasons we love you.”
I close my eyes and start rubbing at my temples as she leaves.
After meeting the Russos, I know Violet’s going to have a fit over this.
It’s the last thing she’d want, and to be honest, the last thing I’d want too.
Papa and Nana Russo are good people, and I don’t want them to be embarrassed by some stuck-up society rich bitch because he still talks a bit like a paisan.
I’m gonna have to do some pretty major convincing to get her to go along with this latest development.
Everything’s perfect, with the scent from the incense wafting through the air as I double-check that the outdoor table’s been laid out just the way I want.
“You got everything?” I ask the chef, who nods. “Double-check with me. The wine—”
“Lodovico Blend,” the chef confirms for me. “Are you sure, though, sir? There are much finer wines available.”
I nod, knowing that for the chef, fine basically means expensive.
But I noticed three empty bottles of Lodovico on a shelf at the Russos’, and while I’m no sommelier, I know enough about wine to know a working-class family like that doesn’t drink a thousand dollars of wine on a regular basis, so the name means something to them.
“I’m sure. And the garlic bread?”
“Personally prepared by me, sir,” the chef assures me. “And the lamb ravioli will pair perfectly with the wine.”
“Excellent,” I comment, checking my watch. I had to hurry to get everything prepared. Thankfully, building security is used to letting workers in if I call ahead. “Okay, my fiancée should be home in just a few minutes, so let’s make sure we’re on time.”
In fact, Violet’s a minute early, opening the door to the penthouse with a groan. “Oh, God, Ross, I still haven’t found a dress, and you wouldn’t believe how much my ribs hurt from the corsets. What’s all this?”
I smile, my crisp white shirt unbuttoned just enough to let her get a hint of my skin as I offer her my arm. “I thought something other than pizza and ice cream might be in order tonight,” I say lightly.
Violet looks at me suspiciously, her eyes clouded, and I wonder if she’s thinking about all the times I pulled shit on her when we were kids, sweet talking her one minute, only to humiliate her the next. “Where’s the frog?”
“I swear, not a frog in sight . . . although I must admit a certain mischievous side of me did think of putting frog legs on the menu for tonight. But in the end, the non-asshole side of me won out. I’d like to say I’ve grown up since high school, but I think it’s just your positive influence.
” She rolls her eyes at my over-the-top flattery.
I lead Violet outside, where Chef awaits at a fully set table, dishes under cloches to stay warm, twin candles burning in silver candlesticks while a single red rose rests in a vase.
“What . . . you really shouldn’t have,” Violet tells me as I hold her chair for her.
“Of course, I should. You deserve it.” Chef goes to pour the wine, but I wave him off and pour the wine for Violet myself. “If I thought you wouldn’t have laughed at me, I’d have cooked myself, but unfortunately, my repertoire is pretty limited.”
“You make me happy with those smoothies,” Violet says quietly, and it’s my turn to feel the warmth flush my neck.
I make her happy. Somehow, those little words mean a lot to me.
“Give me some time, and I’ll figure out how to make a decent grilled cheese,” I say, unveiling dinner. “Here you go . . . lamb ravioli in a proper tomato sauce, garlic bread, and—”
“Lodovico wine!” Violet nearly squeals, seeing the bottle. “Oh, Ross! How’d you know?”
“Saw it in the kitchen,” I answer her, proud of myself. “What’s the story?”
“Lodovico is very special to Papa,” Violet explains. “It’s too expensive for any but the most special occasions. So the three bottles are for Nana and Papa’s wedding, Mama’s birth, and my birth. I’m almost afraid to ask, but—”
“We’ll put it on the menu at our reception,” I immediately answer her, raising my glass. “For now, to Violet Russo, who hurt her ribs today for love.”
Violet blushes, tapping her glass against mine. “Thanks. I’ll keep looking, but I do think I decided today that I don’t care how gorgeous the dress is. If I can’t breathe in it, it’s not the one.”
“Sounds reasonable,” I tell her.
We dig into our dishes, Violet moaning at the first bite. “Oh, my. Don’t tell Nana, but this is better than hers!”
“Don’t worry,” I reply with a chuckle. “She can’t hear you.”
“That’s good. You should have heard her and Aunt Sofia go at it before you showed up. She’d have my hide if I dared to compliment someone else’s cooking over hers.”
She tells me about her family, how Nana and Sofia go at it like cats and dogs half the time, while Papa catches his fair share of yelling too . . . but it’s all in love.
We move on to discussing our days, and she cheers for me when I tell her about the meeting going well. Her eyes turn to molten fire when I tell her about Dad’s private reaction, though, and the way she has my back warms me.
She shows me a glittery invitation, raving about Abi’s genius, and I have to agree with her. “Something else did happen today, though.”
Her tone is stilted, hesitant to share. I lay my hand over hers. “You can tell me anything, Violet.”
“Colin came by the flower shop. He saw my car outside and came in. He told me he wanted to get back together.”
My heart stops as cold fury lights its way from my gut to my fists, which clench unconsciously. “And?”
She tilts her head, reading me. “You’re mad?”
I spit out, “He comes chasing after my fiancée and I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”
Well, if that didn’t toss kerosene on an already confusing fire. She’s not mine, not really. But fuck if I don’t feel possessive of her, possessed by her.
“Would you lose the pissed off look if I said I kicked him out on his ass and told him to have a good life?” Her smile is one of sass and confidence.
“Actually . . . yes,” I admit, sighing in insane relief. “Was I that obvious?”
“If he’d been here, you’d have thrown him off the balcony without a parachute.”
“Perhaps,” I reply, troubled, relieved, and gladdened by her news. “But simply because Radcliffe’s a douche who doesn’t deserve you.”
“We both didn’t deserve each other. I was never in love with him. I just wanted to have the fairy tale wedding . . . and wanted Papa to have that memory.”
Again, my heart leaps in my chest hearing she was never in love with him. This is getting heady, and it’s not the wine that’s making it happen.
“And he will,” I vow. “We’ll make his dreams come true. Yours and mine too.”
My voice is husky, promising so much more than a fantasy wedding. Hearing her talk about Colin, thinking about how easily she could’ve gone back to him, because at one point, she believed what they had was real. Even if she knows better now, it’s more than what our initial relationship is built on.