Chapter 27
Sophie
A crimson gown drapes over the oriental wardrobe.
Makeup clutters the vanity, laid out in disarray as if I knew how to apply any of it.
This feels familiar.
Four years seem like a past life, a time when I knew how to walk in stilettos and could admire myself in a mirror without pinpointing my flaws.
All I see now is how different this woman is from her. The heiress bride who believed she’d faced the worst moments of her life at twenty-four.
Time has a cruel humor.
But I'm here. Xavier’s aftershave is still wafting from the bathroom.
He’s downstairs, and Vito Marin isn’t here to drag me to his will.
Slipping on my engagement ring until it nestles against my wedding band, I grab a brush, sweeping foundation over my face.
Nightmares haven’t found me in his arms. My complexion currently thanks me for it.
A sprinkle of blush and my cheek is rouged beyond repair. “Damn.”
“Thought I’d surprise you on an important day. ”
As I twist on the vanity bench, my smile broadens upon seeing Courtney in the mirror as she walks into the bedroom. She carries a hair kit tucked under her arm and grimaces at the sight of me.
“You look like a harlot, darling.”
Dio , it’s good to see her. “I'm beyond hope.”
“Well, I'm here to save the day then. Couldn’t miss your big return to society now, could I?”
A hopeless laugh leaves me. “I’ll take any help you’re willing to give me at this point.”
“First, we need to clean up your face. Start over.”
Courtney starts with cream, smoothing my skin.
With a frown, she dabs a sponge of concealer over my scars.
Scars that weren’t there the last time she did this.
She updates me on what I’ve missed while tilting my face up to hers, swiping, primping, and powdering.
Her brother’s passing. The move she made to be closer to Dante—something he insisted on to keep an eye on her.
Very much something Dante would do, but it fills me with an insane amount of happiness to know that while I was away, they took her in, made her family.
Eventually, she has to sit, unable to stand as long as she used to. When I push her to rest, she swats my hands away, taking as much pleasure in going through the motions with me as before. Her eyes start to water as she paints my lips a deep red.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to be with you, darling. To have you back. I always feared your father and Arturo would take it too far to keep Xavier leashed.” She shakes her head, expelling the tears. “I don’t think I slept a sound night in four years until I got the call that you’d come back.”
She sets down the lipstick on the vanity. “Are you scared?”
“Terrified.”
She smiles, stunned by my honesty. “Well, you’re not your mamma.
Never will be. Damn all of them. Be yourself because who you are is worth more than a hundred Camillas.
You will turn heads as you always have. Men will flock, and women will envy.
Be kind but restrained. Warm but cautious.
Trust none of them, and you’ll be just fine. ”
“How I’ve missed your pep talks.”
Courtney huffs as she grabs the curling iron, adjusting the Hollywood waves that frame my face. “You used to roll your eyes every time I tried.”
“I was young.”
“Four years ago?” She laughs at my eye roll. “You’re something, girl. Stand up so I can see you.”
After a few touch-ups, she’s satisfied enough to help me into my gown.
She adjusts the cowl neck dipping between my breasts, mending the off-shoulder sleeves, smoothing out the satin slit revealing skin to my thigh.
The freshly bloomed red rose she’s pinned by my ear adds her unique touch, and I'm just rolling with it.
Slipping into heels evokes a transporting memory.
“I forgot how much I hated heels.”
“You’ve never been more beautiful.”
Scoffing, I give the dress a pat, avoiding my reflection at all costs. “You have to say that.”
She grabs my waist, pulling me to the floor-length mirror. “ Look at yourself , Sophie.”
I never hesitated to look before. After spending a year in a place where training and beatings took precedence over any kind of grooming, with no mirror in sight, I stopped caring what I looked like. I wouldn’t see myself the way I used to—that much would always remain true.
Courtney has to stretch onto her tiptoes to grab my chin, forcing me to gaze at the woman looking back at me.
There are no words. Emotion takes over as my eyes observe.
My hair isn’t greasy, slicked back into a braid to prevent it from being torn out.
My hair cascades over my shoulders like rolling waves of inked water.
The dark bruises have faded since I’ve been here, erasing the evidence of Reykjavík.
There are no malnourished rings around my eyes, just a fan of eyeshadow and mascara to accentuate the blue tint of my irises.
The soft satin clings to my breasts, my waist, and my hips, and for once, I don’t wish to hide myself from the world.
It’s been years of hiding—nothing else.
“Do you see what I’m seeing?”
“I'm starting to.” My esophagus tightens as I pull her into an embrace. “Thank you.”
“This is all you, my dear,” she says. “But I'm going to take a little credit, too. I haven’t lost my touch.”
Courtney pecks my pink cheek, mumbling about a game of dominoes, and then she’s off. Disappearing into the bathroom while I spray perfume on my wrists and rub the sweetness into my neck, I keep catching glimpses of myself in the mirror, fighting back laughter.
This is so damn bizarre.
Mimi bounces into the room, immediately spotting me in the bathroom. Elegantly dressed in cream chiffon that puffs at her waist, drifting like pillowed clouds to the floor, my smile widens, gaping at her. “That dress is insane.”
She places her hands on her hips. “Well, you’re goddamn Aphrodite. Holy hell.”
Take the compliment . “Thanks.”
Her eyes catch onto one of my wedding gifts—a necklace my father bought to make up for strangling me. I close my eyes. Not today . “Look at that freaking necklace!”
I place the necklace in her hands, unable to get attached to jewels that only serve as a dark reminder of what Vito Marin has put me through. Mimi raises the jewels to her neck, gaping in astonishment. “How many carats is this damn thing?”
“Wear it. It matches the pins in your hair.” Without a beat, I say, “Better yet, keep it. ”
“No way. I couldn’t.”
“It’s never been worn.” I drape it around her neck myself. “Someone should enjoy it.”
Mimi watches me in the mirror while I clasp the necklace. “How are you doing?”
“Crowds aren’t my thing.”
She laughs. “Well, they’re mine . Stick by me, and we’ll be fine.”
Dante calls out for Mimi downstairs, letting her know the limousine is ready and that Zeke and Delli are already inside waiting.
She grins, drifting out of this room as if tonight were the social event of her life.
I'm just trying to get one foot in front of the other, grabbing a jeweled clutch from the closet that hangs off my wrist before I follow her out.
The presence of soldato’s in the house is stronger today, men who were just briefed on the positions they’ll take within the crowded hotel.
The senator has entrusted the Marcello Family with the security of this event.
No guns, no dealings of any kind. Even a metal detector will be stationed at the entrance of the ballroom.
That’s what happens when you run with criminals.
Huddled in clusters, they joke and jab. Dario inspects each man, pulling aside those who are ununiformed. “Come on, look at your shirt. It’s missing a goddamn button. This stain? Go home, change into a decent suit, and meet us at the hotel.”
He admonishes the next one for the lack of a bow tie.
The sea of black uniforms hides me at the top of the stairs as I struggle to come to terms with where I am and how eerily familiar this feels. A life I escaped. A life I couldn’t endure. And now I'm here, trying to fit into the mold—for one man.
That man strides out of the parlor, all polished authority and lethal grace as he slides into his tuxedo jacket and adjusts the sleek satin lapels. There’s a distinction between wearing a suit and letting it wear you .
As Xavier crosses the room, distracted by a man talking his ear off, he embodies that distinction, exuding a confidence that no man here will ever replicate.
They might as well be in costumes, playing checkers while their youthful Don plays chess.
His wild hair has been somewhat tamed, but it still looks unrefined.
As he buttons his jacket, pausing to listen to Dario and nodding absentmindedly, his eyes catch the setting sun streaming through the expansive windows like gems.
He’s inherently and unmistakably Italian …
breathtakingly beautiful. From the outside, paired with a striking face and a strapping build, his darkness is his allure.
He has the face of someone capable of this life.
And yet, his essence remains expertly concealed, the man behind the mask.
While they may covet that handsome surface, what’s within him is the actual treasure.
And none of them know it.
Dario orders the men to file out and get ready to go.
With Xavier here, I feel brave enough to walk through the passing soldiers, ignoring their indiscreet glances at each other as I navigate between them.
He is the only beacon I gravitate toward, finding strength in his presence.
And when he spots me in the chaos, I'm reassured that he feels the same way.
Because the man visibly stops breathing.
All the consequences of this life evaporate.
The room clears as I reach him, resisting the urge to wilt under his intense gaze. The house has fallen silent, leaving only the two of us, and he hasn’t looked away. Not once.
My painted nails pick at the sequined clutch in my hands. “Courtney… went all out.”