Chapter Eleven
Starling
“Starling, for goodness' sake,” my mom says, after charging into my room on her kitten heel shoes, setting down a mug of coffee, and heading straight for the curtains.
“It’s five o’clock in the afternoon,” she grumbles as a flood of light shoots me in the eye. Ugh.
Five o’clock. Well, I’m sorry for oversleeping, but who wouldn’t after a night like mine? I snuck back home sometime in the morning, after waking up to an empty bed in a penthouse owned by three of the most gorgeous men to walk this planet.
“It’s your engagement party today, and it’s Christmas. What kind of energy is this?” My mom continues to scold me as she walks into my closet, pulls out my engagement dress, and lays it on a chair.
“Seriously, you missed breakfast and lunch and tea, and now it’s dinner time and your party. You have one hour to make yourself presentable.” My mom stands at my bed, brushes my hair out of my face, and instantly her expression softens.
“You’re going to be happy,” she says, and I’m sure she’s reassuring herself more than me. She gives me a tight hug and showers me with Mom kisses. “Now get ready.”
I drag myself out of bed with a heaviness I’m not accustomed to as soon as my mom leaves. Yes, my body aches with brutal deliciousness. I can still feel all three of their cocks moving inside me and giving me the darkest of pleasures, but there’s still an unexplained gloom in my heart.
I can’t identify the feeling, and I can’t explain it either, so I decide to brush it aside and get ready for my engagement party, which directly translates to fulfilling my family obligations. It’s what I was born to do. And of course, it’s Christmas—well, what’s left of it anyway.
I glance briefly at the dress my mom laid over a chair. I liked it before; the champagne-colored fabric was pretty and the style whimsical, but now it’s just a dress and nothing more.
As I strip off my nightshirt, I take a sip of coffee and head straight to the shower. Fifty-eight minutes later, I’m as dressed as I can be.
Right, I tell my reflection, then slap my cheeks a couple of times. Showtime.
My sisters are waiting for me at the landing, all smiles and happiness. Yep, this is it. I rearrange my face and stretch my lips into a smile.
Except… they’re not smiling. I just assumed they were. They’re quite agitated and a little alarmed, and no, they were not waiting for me. They’re charging up the stairs now in their ballgowns. What is going on?
They tackle me back inside my room, literally carrying me back, and shut the door behind me.
“What did you do?” they each cry. I’m too stunned to speak. I didn’t do anything wrong. I had sex last night. I wasn’t engaged yet. In fact, Jake and I decided at our awkward lunch that if we wanted to sow our oats one last time, now was the time. I didn’t do anything wrong.
“What are you talking about?”
“What are we talking about?” Mia asks, bewildered.
“Do you know that the Italian mafia is downstairs right now?” Emerald whispers so loudly I’m sure the whole neighborhood heard her.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say calmly because I don’t. Did my sisters smoke something today, or what?
“Starling,” Heather says, shaking me by the arms. “The Italian mafia, the Sovrani family, is downstairs in our grand hall right now. They asked Dad for your hand in marriage, and since they’re the mafia, Dad can’t exactly say no, can he?
Worst of all, they’ve totally won over Gran, and we all know that never happens.
So what the hell have you done to bring the Italian mafia, the new heirs to our house, to marry you? ”
I’m having a really hard time processing this right now. Actually, I’m processing nothing worthwhile.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say lamely.
“Do you know them?” Emerald shrieks. “Do you know Enzo De Luca, Dario Ricci, and Marco Mancini?”
“What?” I ask, shocked. “Are you saying they’re here? In this house?”
“Yes,” my sisters shout.
“And they’re going to marry you. The Italian mafia,” Heather adds.
“They’re here?” Oh my god. My body at once sizzles with need. Now it’s almost as if I can smell their cologne. I rush toward the door, but my sisters bring me back.
“Did you hear the part where we said they were the mafia?”
“No, they’re not.”
“Their mentor is literally the Don right now until they take over.”
“No. Their mentor’s name is Don…”
“Starling,” Emerald laughs. “What have you done?”
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.
They’re the mafia. Everything about them says mafia. Their family, their Gran, their Don. And they want to marry me?
“I… I… kind of did a thing last night,” I start and tell my sisters everything. And how quickly they went from ‘The freaking mafia is in our house’ to ‘Oh my god, it’s like a romance novel,’ and they’re instantly in love with me.
I take a deep breath and head downstairs, and there they are. So worldly, so sophisticated, so handsome; everything around them pales in comparison.
I skid to a halt as my heart turns over at the sight of them.
“But you don’t even know me,” I whisper, except everyone can hear me.
“That’s why we’re marrying you,” Enzo says.
I can’t help but laugh, especially when my sisters decide to hang some mistletoe over my head.
My breath falters as they come toward me. My lips hunger for them. And then they’re taking turns to kiss me, right there in front of my family.
“All this is ours,” they each murmur against my lips in Italian.