7. Cassandra
Cassandra
“Yes, Dad. I’m safe.” I roll my eyes, not for the first time since I answered the phone.
I’m in the back seat of Dominic’s sleek, black Escalade, being chauffeured to my shopping date with Sadie.
Sam, Dominic’s driver, is behind the wheel, while my new bodyguard, Adam, takes the passenger seat.
“You know I’m not allowed to go anywhere in this city alone. ”
My father grunts. He’ll never be thrilled that I have to live my life with a constant security detail. Still, after working with Dominic to save my life, he’s willing to acquiesce that my fiancé is the one other man on this planet willing to go to great lengths to protect me.
“All right, Cas. You have fun with Sadie, and tell her I said ‘Hello.’”
“I will.” My tone softens as my father’s fondness for my friend breaks through. He believes Sadie is a good influence on me, despite her getting knocked up by a Mafia associate. “I love you, Dad. Stay safe.”
“Always. Love you, too.”
I drop my phone to my lap and end the call. My father is trying, and that’s all I can ask. I can’t imagine it’s easy to be a high-ranking federal agent with a daughter who’s about to marry one of the country’s most influential organized crime leaders.
“Miss Bain,” Sam says, steering us in front of an upscale shopping plaza halfway to the city’s suburbs. “Text me when you’re ready to go, and I’ll meet you back here.”
“Got it. Thank you, Sam.”
I wait as Adam jumps from the car and swings my door open. He offers me his hand before I gingerly step from the vehicle.
“Where to first?” he asks, sunglasses perched on his Roman nose.
Adam is an associate whom Dominic pulled from one of his father’s casinos.
His tan skin and dark chocolate hair hint at his Sicilian background.
A Romano associate by lineage, he’s one of the most trustworthy men in the organization, exactly who Dominic wanted for my protection detail.
“I’m supposed to meet Sadie by the water fountain,” I say, leading the way.
Adam falls in line at my side. He’s out of place in his navy suit and gray tie.
Women in sundresses and men in casual slacks and polos glance our way.
I can’t say I’m not part of the reason for the attention.
In my yellow Prada dress, Louis Vuitton purse, and Jimmy Choo wedges, I look every bit the Mafia queen I’ve become.
I’m getting used to the curious stares, enough so that I hold my head high and ignore the onlookers as I browse the windows of boutiques.
“Cassie,” Sadie calls to me before I spot her. She’s glowing in a pair of white linen maternity pants and a blue, flowy, sleeveless top with a floral pattern. Her auburn hair is pulled into a smooth ponytail, and her eyes are hidden behind oversized sunglasses.
I rush to my friend, wrapping her in a hug as I mutter my hello. “You look gorgeous,” I say, stepping back and spreading my arms. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen pregnancy suit a woman as well as it suits you.”
She laughs and waves me off. “It’s just because the morning sickness has passed. Everyone keeps telling me I’m in the sweet spot, that in a couple of months I’m going to feel like an uncomfortable whale.”
“I’m glad the people you’re talking to are giving you something to look forward to.” I laugh and hook my arm through hers.
She shakes her head, her ponytail swishing side to side. “The baby is what I have to look forward to.”
“There’s a store I spotted when I was walking over here that I want to stop in.” With Adam trailing behind, I lead Sadie in the direction I came from. “There was a top in the window that I loved.”
We begin our hunt through a mix of luxury and boutique shops, all of which cater to entrepreneurs and their wives and girlfriends who roll through Las Vegas.
Sadie focuses on accessories, while I find a gorgeous gold spaghetti-strap blouse and sandals to match.
I have the perfect skirt to pair with them in my ever-growing wardrobe.
After a few stores, we walk through the main thoroughfare, and Sadie halts, a wide grin forming on her face.
“We have to go in here,” she says, giving me no chance to counter before she rushes inside the shop to our right.
I follow her in, my eyes adjusting as I lift my sunglasses to rest them on top of my head.
When I realize where we are, my heart flutters, and a longing blooms in my chest.
“Cassie, look,” Sadie squeals. “Aren’t these adorable?” She’s holding up a pair of the tiniest loafers I’ve ever seen. “They would go perfectly with this.” She gestures to an outfit on a small mannequin—khakis, a white-collared shirt, and a red plaid vest.
“Your son is going to be the most dapper kid at daycare,” I tease.
“Oh, my God. They have swim trunks with little sharks.” Sadie is sifting through beachwear before I can get past the display of toddler-sized suits.
Sliding my fingers over a jacket, I raise my brows. “Are these kids attending business meetings?”
“Those are for special events,” Sadie says, swim trunks and a sun hat in hand. “They have flip-flops!”
While she continues shopping for her son’s summer wardrobe, I wander through the store, gathering ideas for baby shower gifts. I spot a onesie covered in caterpillars that says, “Mom’s cuddle bug,” and tuck it away in my memory to send one of Dominic’s assistants to pick up for Sadie’s shower.
As I pass from the boys section to the girls, something tugs at my gut. The frills and pastels are too adorable to ignore, and, not for the first time, I wish I had my own little girl to shop for.
“Oh, wow.” Sadie appears beside me as I admire a knit sweater with pink bows. “How sweet is this?”
I turn to my friend, and my breath catches as I take in the dress she holds in the air. It’s short-sleeved with an empire waist secured by a rose-colored ribbon. The petticoat-style skirt flares, but it’s the print on the white fabric that makes my heart melt.
Ballerinas dance en pointe, twirling and leaping, some tossing garlands in the air. Their tutus are the traditional pancake style that I spent so much of my life performing in.
“If I were having a girl, this would be the first thing she wore when I brought her home,” Sadie says. We share a background in classical ballet, though she left her company long before I left mine.
“God, I love this.” I take the garment from her, checking the price tag out of habit. Eighty-four dollars, not a charge Dominic would even notice on the statement for his black AmEx.
For a moment, I indulge in the fantasy of having a little girl of my own—one whom I could teach to dance, explain pliés and tendus to.
I could be one of the moms watching through the glass of the preschool ballet and tap classes while she learned to leap and turn.
She would finish class with the improvisational scarf dance that all young ballerinas love.
I could buy this dress and keep it for the future.
I could hide it in the back of my closet until I’m ready to use it.
That wouldn’t be weird, would it?
Sadie sighs, removing the dress from my hands and replacing it on the rack. “Let’s just hope someone has a daughter soon so we can come back and buy it for a shower gift. That’s a dress that deserves to be worn. Hey, maybe Amanda will come back from her honeymoon pregnant.”
Sadie grins, and my chest tightens with jealousy.
Jesus Christ. I’m being ridiculous.
I rip myself away from the dress and trail behind Sadie toward the checkout counter.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Dominic and I have had this discussion.
It’s not the right time for kids. There’s too much going on, with the Bratva and a drug cartel after us, and Dominic about to open a new hotel.
Babies are a conversation for years down the road—after we’re married—after things settle.
We leave the store, Sadie chattering about her purchases and a trip to San Diego she wants to take once her baby is a few months old. She fell in love with the city when I took her out during my last visit to my father. I don’t remind her that the trip ended with my abduction to Mexico.
“Oh, hey.” Sadie interrupts herself to point across the walkway to a store. “La Perla?” she asks with a coquettish smirk.
I swallow and glance behind us, where Adam watches closely.
So far, he’s followed us into each store we’ve been to.
Besides the fact that I have no desire to browse lingerie with him nearby, I have a feeling that Dominic might slit his throat if this man sees the items that I wear in the privacy of my bedroom.
“Hmm.” Sadie understands, tilting her head in thought. “Do you think he’ll wait outside?” she whispers.
“I can try.” With a deep breath, I spin on my heel until I’m facing the six-foot-tall, intimidating Mafia associate. “Hey, Adam, Sadie, and I want to purchase some, uh, delicate items. Do you think you could wait outside this store?”
Adam glances around, spotting La Perla immediately. He shifts on his feet and clears his throat. “I think that would be acceptable,” he says with a resolute nod.
“Perfect.” I release a relieved breath and tap Sadie’s arm, spurring her forward. “We won’t be too long,” I call over my shoulder.
Adam mutters that we should take our time as he perches on a planter ledge outside the store.
A soft floral scent greets Sadie and me as we enter. Modern lines and backlit displays set the store apart from others of its kind. Delicate silks and tantalizing laces create sultry bras and panties that would have any man weak in the knees.
On a mannequin in the center of the store, a piece catches my eye. It’s a black bodysuit, sheer, with lace covering the most provocative places. I turn to the rack and find my size as a saleswoman approaches.
“Can I start a dressing room for you?” The way the woman clocks my designer outfit and accessories tells me she’s picturing a hefty commission. “We have a bra and panties set in this same collection. I can grab those for you as well?”
I sigh. I’m still not accustomed to the overzealous customer service I tend to receive. “I’m okay. I’m just going to continue to browse,” I say, handing over the bodysuit to placate her.
After a few minutes, Sadie and I are in the dressing rooms, giggling as we give each other verbal reports from our individual stalls.
“Ugh, these don’t even fit under my giant belly,” she groans, dismissing another pair of panties. “And what’s the point in buying a designer bra that probably won’t fit me for months anyway?”
“What about that robe you were looking at?” I ask, adjusting a garter belt around my waist.
Sadie huffs as fabric rustles from her side of the wall. “It’s gorgeous, but I can’t rationalize spending that much on something I just plan to wear in a hospital bed after giving birth.”
“I think you’ll get more use out of it than that.” I twist side to side, admiring the black bodysuit and matching garter. Dominic will be more than happy to fund this purchase. Set on buying the two items, I undress and slip back into my sundress.
Sadie’s curtain swishes as she pulls it to the side. “I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”
I purse my lips as I fix my hair in the mirror. I know that tone. Now that Sadie isn’t working, Lucas is financing her. He’s not Dominic-level wealthy, but he’s making a good income with his new position. Still, it’s hard for Sadie to spend his money on non-necessities.
Lucky for her, it’s becoming a lot easier for me to swipe Dominic’s AmEx whenever I feel the urge.
“Give me the robe.” I step from my dressing stall and hold out my hand.
“Cassie, no.” Sadie stares wide-eyed. “You are not buying it for me.”
“Yes, I am.” When she refuses to move, I reach into her stall and pull out the pink silk robe.
It’s luxurious and beautiful. Exactly what a new mom should be wrapped in while she recovers from childbirth.
“But you’re not getting it until your baby shower.
” I wink, adding the piece to my bodysuit and garter.
“Wow.” Sadie follows me to the register, not so subtly wiping moisture from under her eyes. “Damn hormones.” She chuckles. “Thank you, Cassie. This is really sweet of you.”
“You’re my best friend,” I say as I place my purchases on the counter. “You deserve only the best.”
For a moment, we allow the reality of what I’ve said to sink in. Sadie truly is the best friend I’ve ever had, and after everything we’ve been through, we’ll be bonded for life.
The perky salesgirl appears behind the register, thrilled to ring up my nearly one-thousand-dollar purchase.
With bags in hand, I link arms with Sadie and head out of the shop.
“I’m starving,” she admits as Adam resumes his place, trailing behind us.
“Mexican?” I grin, knowing my friend’s cravings for south-of-the-border cuisine haven’t let up since she found out she was pregnant.
“You read my mind.”
“To Consuela’s?” I ask, tilting my head in the direction of the restaurant.
“To Consuela’s.”