Chapter 12
TIFFANY
Ireally needed that drink. What a day. After an interminable hour spent getting ready with Mrs. Harrington fussing around me, along with the personal shopper, my nerves are at breaking point because of tonight.
What if something goes wrong? Joseph said himself I have a target on my back, and then there’s the fact I’m wanted for murder.
He has conveniently forgotten about that, but I haven’t.
Is Interpol still operating these days? Will they be waiting for me with a pair of handcuffs and a key to my prison cell?
I wouldn’t put it past Morgan to have eyes in every house in the world, and I will not rest until that woman is deep in the ground and away from me forever.
I don’t care that it’s a sin to wish another dead and to orchestrate their demise.
I haven’t made my solemn vow yet, so I’m taking my opportunity before I do.
Will I ever return to the convent? Either willingly or because I am dead.
It’s a sobering thought, and only the burn of the whiskey is standing between me and a full-blown panic attack right now.
I’m surprised when Mrs. Harrington is waiting at the door with a black fur wrap and offers it to me with a smile. “It’s a little chilly outside, ma’am. You may need this.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She helps me on with it and as I join Joseph at the door, he reaches for my hand.
“Shall we?”
I don’t miss hope flare in Mrs. Harrison’s eyes, and I pity her. She is obviously hoping for some kind of love match between us, but she’s deluded if she thinks that will ever happen.
As we step into the night, I am glad of the fur wrap because she was right. It’s freezing out here.
I don’t miss the usual shadows guarding every step we take, and it’s not an uncommon sight. My father had the same protection, and I wonder how wealthy the Raveras must be if they require the same.
Wealth breeds enemies, which is why I prefer the simple life, although when I dressed to impress, I loved every second of it.
I didn’t miss the admiration in Joseph’s eyes when he caught sight of me, and I felt the same.
He is one impressive man, and his clothes are obviously expensive ones because they hang off his body like a second skin.
He has an aura of power that I never realized I crave and the heat that sizzled between us wasn’t lost on me, making me wonder what will happen tomorrow, not really fearing it anymore.
We head past similar mansions. Smart white townhouses surrounded by iron railings, gleaming plaques on the walls revealing the number of the street.
Beautiful potted trees, many with fairy lights, twinkle as we walk and it’s as if the air is filled with wealth and the pavements sparkle under our feet.
Joseph says nothing, and I am not about to engage him in conversation either.
We reach a house similar to his, and as we approach, the door opens and a uniformed butler nods with respect.
“Mr. Ravera, Miss Zaferelli, you are most welcome.”
I’m awestruck when he bows as we pass, before saying, “May I take your coat, Miss Zaferelli?”
“Of course, um, thank you.”
All around me are glittering chandeliers, marble, and warm lighting. Expensive art, golden objects, and the faint sound of classical music wafting from what appears to be a large room.
Joseph takes my hand in silence and leads me through the door, where I catch my breath. It opens up into a large room with tall ceilings, expensive furnishings littering the space, gleaming marble floors, and waiters walking around offering champagne on silver platters.
The guests are impressive, and the ambience is rich and engaging, and as we enter, I note a man who causes me to stop breathing.
I have never experienced so much power radiating from one individual.
The Middle Eastern features of a tall man are accompanied by an extremely dark gaze.
Beside him is a woman who firmly deserves her place by his side.
Glittering in a silver dress, her hair long and intertwined with diamonds.
Her smile is a genuine one, but his eyes strip me bare inside and read my secrets like an open book.
“Malik.”
Joseph offers the man his hand before turning to his wife. “Eliza.”
He kisses her hand like a gentleman, and I almost pass out when Malik turns to me, his gaze searing my soul.
“Miss Zaferelli.”
Malik takes my hand in much the same way and kisses the back of it, his gaze sharp, his interest obvious, and Joseph stiffens beside me.
I turn to Eliza and am relieved when she gives me a sympathetic smile and nods toward the door leading onto a veranda outside.
“You look as if you could use some air.”
“Thank you.”
I smile my gratitude because she’s not wrong about that.
The cool air reinvigorates my senses, and I breathe deeply as she chuckles beside me.
“It’s a lot to adjust to.”
“What is?”
“Life outside the convent, I’m guessing.”
“How did you know?”
I’m a little uneasy and she shrugs. “My husband has the ability to discover even the smallest of titbits and keeps me informed. I kind of love that skill of his, among others, of course.”
Her infectious giggle warms my heart and breaks down any defenses I had in place.
“I kind of understand how you must be feeling. You see, I was hidden away myself for a while, working as a nanny for what turned out to be a psychopath. It’s a lot to deal with when you enter the real world and I guess we have a lot in common.”
“Why?”
I’m not being rude, just curious, and she leans closer and whispers, “My family were like Joseph’s, not so much Malik’s, so thank God for small mercies.”
She rolls her eyes, making me wonder what the hell her husband lived like if it was worse than a mafia life.
“I was protected all my life until I ran away.”
“Why did you run?”
“Evil stepmother.”
“Wow.”
I’m stunned because how is this happening?
She grins. “So, if you need any advice on how to survive in this world, you know where I am. We are in town for three more days while Malik conducts his business. Perhaps we could take lunch before I leave.”
“I would love that.”
I falter because I’m not sure I’ll be allowed because tomorrow is my wedding day, supposedly.
“We’ll find the time. I’ll insist on it, and if Joseph refuses, I’ll ask Malik to change his mind.”
“Why do I really hope he refuses?”
We giggle as our friendship forms almost instantaneously and Eliza groans. “I should head back. Malik gets twitchy if I’m out of his sight for more than a few minutes.”
Her soft expression reveals she’s not unhappy about that, and the love she has for her husband is evident in her smile.
“I wish you luck, Tiffany, but one word of advice, if I may be so bold.”
“Of course.”
She points to my finger. “If your engagement story is going to hold up, you really should be wearing an engagement ring. Just saying.”
My heart sinks because she’s right, of course. I’m surprised that Joseph never thought that one through. Then again, neither did I and I’m guessing that Eliza Karim is every bit as capable of discovering secrets as her husband is.