53. Allie
Allie
We left the kitchen with the team promising to come in early and clean up. A miracle, really, considering half of them were already six shots deep and talking about getting matching tattoos by the end of the night.
It was a night to celebrate, and I refused to be the gloomy wet blanket that ruined the vibe, even though all I wanted to do was go home, ugly cry into a pillow, and let my good friends Ben and Jerry emotionally support me through the five stages of grief.
Instead, I let the team drag me out to a dive bar that no doubt violated multiple health codes, sat in a questionably sticky chair, and nursed a single glass of wine while my fingers compulsively tugged at the chain around my neck.
My rings were still on it. Not because of some dramatic, screw you statement to Rico.
I just… didn’t have the energy. The energy to be mad.
To yank the rings off the chain. To scream. Nothing.
I was tired. Tired from the day, from the stress, from the defeat.
And I was so over feeling this way. Getting my hopes up only for them to crash and burn spectacularly.
This was my night. My achievement. My success. Rico hadn’t shown up—so what? The contract never said he had to support me, just that we had to be a couple in public.
Still, I’d wasted too much emotional energy stewing, and now I was running on fumes.
“You should go home. You look like shit.” Kai grinned at me over the rim of his drink.
“Wow. Thank you. Really. That was the boost of confidence I needed.”
“I just felt someone should point it out.” He glanced down at his phone and frowned. “Besides, it’s late, and we all have work tomorrow. Unless you want to give us the day off?” His brows waggled.
“Not a chance.”
I stood, groaning and feeling three times my age.
It wasn’t even that the day was longer than usual, but I felt as though I’d physically been put through an Olympic-level endurance test. Vinnie stood near the entrance, his hulking form practically blocking out the bar’s dim lighting.
Cassie had picked the place, which meant it was a true dive—rickety chairs, mismatched tables, and a collection of rusted metal decor.
The only benefit was that booze at dive bars was more affordable.
The fancier the decor, the higher the price tag on the same damn drink.
Vinnie’s eyes met mine, and I gave him a small nod. He returned it without a word. We’d been together long enough that words were optional. The man could practically read my mind, which was good, because mine was…complicated right now.
“See you tomorrow, boss!” Someone yelled, and the rest of the drunken crew echoed their goodbyes, one of them sloshing their beer over the table in an overzealous salute.
“You all better show up. Hungover or not.” I waved as Kai followed me out, Vinnie a few steps behind us.
“You gonna say anything to him when you get home?” Kai asked, hands in his pockets.
“Why bother?”
“Because he’s your husband.”
I stopped walking and turned to stare at him, deadpan.
Kai knew it was an arranged marriage. There was no point pretending otherwise.
We don't have an NDA about it. I could stand on the rooftop and announce to all of Manhattan that I was contractually obligated to be the mute Bennetti brother’s wife, and no one would care.
Hell, half the world didn’t even know he existed because he refused to show up to public events.
Like this one.
Nope. Not going down that road again.
“You and I both know that him being my husband is a legal term and nothing more.”
Kai stopped me, hands firm on my shoulders as he turned me to face him. Thank God I’d only had one glass of wine. If I was as hammered as my kitchen staff, I’d be hurling all over his stupidly polished boots right now.
“It means something to you. Don’t be a pushover. Besides, you’re basically a mafia princess. Why not go kick his ass?”
I jabbed a thumb toward Vinnie. “That’s his job.”
“Okay, then go yell at him. Be the nagging wife.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I think I already do that well enough.”
Kai pulled me in for a quick hug, pushing a kiss to my forehead like an overprotective big brother. “Okay, you do you. I’ll see you tomorrow. But remember, don’t come in until noon. I’ll cover for you.”
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him. His usually neat blonde hair was a tousled mess, and I hated that even at his most exhausted, he still looked completely handsome.
Pulling away, I gave him a small wave as he turned back toward the bar, only to find Vinnie standing by the car, eyebrow raised like he was about to start some real shit.
“Yes?” I sighed, already climbing into the backseat.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“Do I look like I wanna talk about it?”
He shrugged, shutting the door behind me. “Do you want me to kick his ass?”
I considered it for a long moment. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Well, think quickly. We’re only ten minutes from home.”
I snorted. Home. Right. More like the world’s fanciest prison.