Chapter 33
thirty-three
I sit quietly in front of the vanity as Mia’s niece, Leanna, primes and prods me to near perfection. She sugars every inch of my body, tweezes my brows, oils me, moisturizes me, and who the hell knows what else she does I don’t know about.
I kind of enjoy it.
The last time I was pampered like this is the day of my sham of a wedding, and even then, it is nowhere near this extensive.
It was also just Libby and me.
My mind is still trying to decipher the handful of journal entries I don’t understand. What secret does she know that Dante doesn’t? It can’t be about Elias not being my father because Dante is well aware of my parentage. What is it that she thinks she knows?
Then there is the mysterious man with the silver cross cane, who looks like me. Is he a relative? I know it isn’t Liam. She describes the man as older.
And Liam doesn’t use a cane.
So, who is it? Is the obsession he is referring to meant to be my mother? If so, taking care of her no doubt means he sent someone to kill her. But why? And why does the Portland police label it as a robbery gone wrong and not a murder?
There are too many unanswered questions. Too many possible scenarios and not enough evidence. Unfortunately, it is something I will have to really dig into until after the gala.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t started, though.
“North Precinct, how can I direct your call?” The woman’s voice is nasally, bored, and I can hear the faint chomping of gum through the telephone. Wonderful, already off to a great start.
“I’m looking for the detective in charge of a certain case,” I ask her. “How do I go about finding him?”
I can practically feel the woman behind the phone rolling her eyes.
“Well,” she sighs impatiently. “Do you have the case number?”
Damn. I didn’t think of that.
“No, but I have the address of the incident and the victim’s name, date of birth, and social,” I inform her. “Can you make do with that?”
“No guarantees, but I can try,” she huffs. “What’s the victim’s name and date of birth?”
“Katherine Moore, born February 17, 1978,” I tell her.
“Okay, give me one second.” The line goes silent, but I can hear the faint sound of nails clicking in the background.
“Says here the case is closed.” She comes back on the line. "And that detective isn’t in a good way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Died a few years ago,” she sneers in disgust. “Suicide after IA found out he was a dirty cop. Paid off by the Italians. Why you so interested anyway, kid? This case if over thirteen years old.”
“She was my mother,” I whisper.
“Ah,” the woman sighs. “Look, here’s what I can do for you.
The case is closed, so everything is open record, but that shit can take months to request. If you can verify some information for me, I’ll get the case documents in the mail to you.
Also, looks like she has some stuff in storage; old evidence and some shit. I’ll send those along too.”
“I’d appreciate that.” "
“Listen, kid,” the woman warns softly. “Detective Jonny Morelli was not only a shitty cop, but a shitty person. Whatever you’re looking for, be careful, because some very powerful people seemed to have had their hands on this case.”
“Thanks.” I paste a smile in my voice. “I will.”
“Good, now,” she clacks her nails, “where am I sending everything?”
I was not allowed to keep anything from my old life when Elias took me in. Not even a stuffed animal. He made me leave everything behind. I’m not sure what the precinct could have, but it is worth having her send it to me.
“You look amazing.” Mia halts my wandering mind as she enters my room with a vivid smile while holding a small tray with a cup of heavenly coffee sitting on it.
“Thank god.” I stand from the small chair Leanna has me sitting in to meet her aunt. The smell of coffee filters through the room. I inhale the robust, aromatic liquid before taking a long, slow sip, letting the bitterness wash over my tongue.
“I figured you might need some.” Mia laughs lightly, setting the empty tray down on the small nightstand next to the bed. “Leanna has been in here for hours with you, and I doubted that she’d think about your abundant need for caffeine.”
Leanna huffs as she begins stowing away the items she brings with her.
“There were more important things to worry about than coffee, Auntie.” Leanna’s English heritage has her pronouncing the word auntie with a long ‘ah’ sound, making the word elegant and posh.
She only has a mild accent, but the use of the English long A sound is something that has been drilled into her brain, no doubt.
“I’m amazed you got Ava to sit still so long without it,” Mia comments warmly. “Now, are you almost done? Everyone will be meeting in the foyer soon.”
“I’m done,” Leanna smirks. “Wouldn’t have taken so long if this one,” she jerks her thumb at me, “wasn’t such a big baby.”
I scowl at the younger girl. “No one warned me about how fucking awful it would hurt to yank the hair out of my legs.”
“You nearly took my head off.” Leanna giggles.
True enough.
The strawberry blond aesthetician gave me no warning when she ripped the hairs from my legs with the sugar mixture she used. It hurt like hell, and I was so stunned that I nearly kick her straight in the face.
Twice.
Getting the Brazilian done is far less painful than my lower legs. That shit burns.
“Come on now.” Mia hurries me to drink my coffee as she waltzes into the closet. “Let’s get you in your dress so you won’t be late.”
Groaning, I set down my now empty cup of coffee, looking at it longingly, wishing it would magically refill on its own.
It doesn’t.
With Mia’s help, I manage to get the long, silken dress on without much trouble. It is soft and golden against my skin.
“There now.” Mia leads me to a full-length mirror inside the bathroom that is tucked in one of the small closets. “Don’t you look a sight.”
The woman in the mirror looks nothing like me.
Well, she does, but I feel barely recognizable.
Leanna has swept my long unruly locks into a side braid, twisting the ends up into the braid itself on the side.
Long, thin pieces of hair frame my nearly naked face.
I tell her I want simple. Nothing extravagant or too bold.
Neutral and simple, those are the two things I like the most, and she has done a spectacular job.
My face is gently dusted with a bit of bronzer and blush to highlight the contours.
She applies a smoky, neutral look to my eyes, blending out the harsh black lines of the eyeliner to give it a softer, gentler effect that complements my nude lipstick.
A pair of emerald crystal leaf earrings dangle from my ears to match the radiant shade of my silken dress.
It is a breathtaking piece of work. The dress.
The V of the top is wide, settling past the edge of my collarbone, and dips to just before the end of my sternum.
The sleeves cuff at my wrists, the fabric of the arms slit in just the right manner that allows the fabric to shift open, exposing the creamy expanse of my skin.
The top is separated by a silk piece of fabric that acts as a belt, tying up in the back, allowing the skirt to pleat at the top. The long skirt has a slit straight up my thigh that allows a glimpse of my silver Louboutin heels.
Now this is what a queen looks like.
Everyone is waiting for me as I stride into the foyer.
My breath catches in my throat at the sight of Matthias in a black tuxedo, his hair slicked back, stormy eyes shining.
Damn, he makes that thing look delicious.
His gaze holds mine. There is hunger there; I see it as his eyes dip from mine to wander over the curves of my body. The ones he says he loves.
Leon waits patiently next to him, his back to me as he whispers to Matthias, who looks like he is not paying any attention to what one of his top brigadiers is saying to him.
Looks, though, are deceiving. Matthias sees everything.
Hears everything. It is what keeps him alive for so long.
He grows up having to decipher everyone’s body movements and expressions to sus out their intentions.
Paranoia is a thing when you have assassins after you all your life.
“You look stunning,” Matthias murmurs to me when I stop in front of him and Leon. The Italian frowns at his Pakhan but nods his head in affirmation.
“Yes, very beautiful, Ava,” Leon comments.
“What’s wrong?” I ask Leon, a frown of my own forming.
“Nothing.” Matthias’s body tenses. “We are just discussing what vehicles we will be taking. It would be more prudent if we traveled separately. That way it will be harder to target all of us at once.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly. “You and I can take the SUV with Vas. Keep things as normal as possible.”
“We aren’t going together, Ava,” Matthias’s face hardens. In my heels, I am nearly as tall as he is. Still a few inches short, my head coming up to his eyes instead of just under his chin, but it gives me an advantage.
“I don’t understand. We have been doing well. I thought that you would want to go with your wife.”
Matthias pinches the bridge of his nose.
“We can’t go together.” He sighs, exasperated. “No one knows you are my wife.”
“Kind of the point in going together,” I push. This is not something I am going to let go of. “There is no reason we can’t make it known now.”
“We just can’t,” he argues. His eyes darken, and he grows aggravated.
His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly.
“I’m not going to argue about this. This isn’t the time to be making our relationship status known.
There are other more important things to take care of now, and telling people we’re married is not at the top of my list.”
Silence descends over the three of us as the doors to the elevator glide open to reveal a tall, leggy raven-haired woman wearing a scandalous red dress. She reminds me of Jessica Rabbit if she had dark hair. Big tits, small stomach, and all legs.
“Sorry I’m late, Matty,” she apologizes, her voice a breathy sigh. “Traffic was terrible.”
Matty? Who the fuck is this chick? She does not look like one of Vivian’s girls.
“No trouble.” Matthias smiles down at her. “We were just talking about transportation.”
“Oh, perfect.” The woman beams up at him, showcasing pearly white teeth, before her attention turns to me. “Oh, hello, you must be Leon’s date. Ava, right? I’m Serena.”
She holds out her hand for me to shake. I take it gently, resisting the urge to strong-arm her.
“Nice to meet you.” I give her a small, closed smile.
“Matthias told me he had a woman staying here, and I just couldn’t believe it,” she says, not unkindly. “How do you two know each other?”
“She’s a liaison from the Kavanaughs,” Matthias grunts. “Temporary house guest.” Serena nods her head, eyeing me before turning her attention back to Matthias.
“Well, shall we?” she asks, motioning toward the elevator. Matthias nods, offering her his arm before strolling away without even a glance back at me.
“Ava…” Leon whispers my name tentatively, like he is afraid I will spook and take off. “You ready?”
Swallowing back the despair welling up inside me, I shake my head.
“I realized I forgot something,” I tell him. “Leanna will kill me if I don’t bring it.”
Leon nods, simply urging me to hurry since we are already late.
I make a beeline down the hall toward Matthias’s room, making a sharp left into his office while Leon has his back turned.
The manila envelope is still sitting on his desk exactly where I leave it. Picking it up, I dump the contents out before grabbing one of his red calligraphy pens and signing my name on the dotted line.
If Matthias refuses to acknowledge me as his wife at the gala, to his date, then he will not have a wife. I thought the papers were a mistake, that he forgot to tell Ben he didn’t need them anymore.
Now I see it for what it really is.
If he doesn’t tell anyone we are married, there is no shame after our divorce. No need to explain.
No more games.
Matthias and I are done.