Chapter 29
“This is the one.”
“You sure?” Bee signed.
I slipped my hands down the smooth material of the dress, turning left then right before the mirror.
The off-shoulder design and fitted bodice said sophisticated, while the thin strap and bottom slit on the above-knee cocktail dress practically begged for some good primal fun.
If anything was going to make an impression on Renzo for our reunion, this vermillion satin dress, molded to my curves, was it.
Along with the loose, wavy style of my hair, it was bound to garner his attention.
“Let the record note I think this is a bad idea,” she signed in the mirror.
“Noted.”
No matter how many times she argued against my going to Renzo’s homecoming celebration, I wasn’t going to change my mind.
This was Renzo we were talking about, the man who’d consumed me for years.
First with anger, then with confusion, appreciation, trust, caring, and recently more.
So much more. Every time I thought about him, I burned up inside.
The man was strong, powerful, incredibly smart, caring yet uncompromising, dedicated yet blasé.
I was in love with him. I had been for years.
It might have seemed weird to an outsider looking in, like Bee, but he understood me like no one else.
Seven years of letter exchanges did that.
Tonight, when his guard was lowered, I wanted to make sure that the man I had come to know wasn’t a facade.
I needed to know if the man I knew through words alone was the same in flesh.
I needed to make sure that I could accept the man who murdered my brother as the one who had stolen my heart and that he really was the type to storm in to save three children who were practically strangers.
I made the last touches on my smoky eye makeup.
Had I made him grander in my head? Maybe.
How much had he changed? Would he recognize me?
I’d only ever sent him photos that focused on my body, not my face.
It was calculated, but I wanted him to see me as a desirable woman, not the teenager he once knew.
I wanted him to think of me when he masturbated, and when he came, I wanted to be the woman at the forefront of his mind.
“How do I look?” I asked, twirling.
“Like you are trying too hard.”
I swatted her arm. “Oh, shush. Like you don’t put in some effort whenever you think you’ll see Tore when you come visit.”
Her eyes widened so fast, and her face turned so red that I couldn’t help my eruption of laughter.
“Oh, come on, you didn’t really think you could hide it, did you? Someday you’re going to need to tell me the details.” I gathered a few essentials into my wristlet clutch, my back to her.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” No matter how many times I heard Bee’s deep, scratchy voice, I never got used to it. It didn’t match the delicate features of her upside-down teardrop face.
I adjusted the straps on my heels. “You know Tore. He’s a player. He likes openness and directness. If you really want that kind of attention from him, you’ll have to put yourself out there.”
“I don’t.”
“You sure about that? Because even I can feel all the sexual tension between you two. This hate-like back and forth obviously isn’t enough to move things forward. Show him what you want.”
“Like you?”
I grinned. “Exactly. I want something. I’m going for it. And if I get disappointed in the process, well, at least I’ll know. If I wait for something to happen, it never will. We make our own fate. The worst he can do is say no. Just like Tore.”
She snapped a folded piece of paper open in front of me.
We’ll see if you’re still saying that after Renzo rejects you. I nudged her hands and the note down.
“He’s only got the ability to break my heart if I let him. You sure you don’t want to come?”
“Nope. Tonight is all yours,” she signed. “Don’t want to rain on your parade.”
I hip-butted her with a laugh. “Sure, that’s what it is. Are you staying for dinner? Isa’s making ribollita for the kids. Eat with them. Play some board games. Hang out. Maybe you’ll even stay late enough to catch Tore coming home.”
“To get another death glare and see him with another one of his playthings? No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
I gave myself a last once-over. This dress really did fit like a glove.
The heels gave me legs to die for, despite my short size.
Hopefully, they didn’t kill my feet. I heaved a shaky breath.
Tonight, I was going to be a tempting vixen.
Tomorrow, I’d go back to being my ball-busting self in baggy pants.
“Wish me luck.”
“You want better than luck.”
Two hours after opening, the club was already bursting.
The crowd sang, jumped, and swayed. The latest hyperpop and genre fusion hits thumped and pulsed as I peered around people in search of any sign of Renzo, Tore, or the Iannelli guards around the bar or dance floor.
The booths were occupied, and the office upstairs looked empty from the dark contours of blackout windows.
Tore didn’t know it, but there was a small scratch on the right side of his office’s glass wall where the tiniest sliver of light came through.
It wasn’t visible unless someone knew exactly where to look.
Right now, there was no flicker, so they weren’t in the office.
Probably in the VIP area, then, or they hadn’t arrived.
The question was: Where should I wait so Tore didn’t see me?
I tucked into the curving of the bar corner where it met the wall, lit by ambient bar lighting, rather than PAR and strobe lights.
Though the area smelled of spilled liquor, the wooden bartop didn’t stick.
The crush of bodies avoided this tiny space, affording me a view of the main entrance and the private rear exit I’d entered from.
I ordered a cranberry vodka. Then another.
Thirty minutes went by. Then an hour…and another. Bee texted me incessantly for updates, apparently with Lou cheering me on at her side.
“You sure I can’t get you something else, Ms. D’Amico?” the bartender asked.
I twisted the slice of lime on the rim of my latest drink.
“It’s Burch, Frank. You know that.” My eyes held firm on the entrance and exit.
He pulled another four beers from the tap, glasses clanking. “You got a hot date?”
“Waiting for someone.”
“Ah.”
“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing. Just, you know. Looks like you got stood up. Sorry, Ms. Burch. It sucks, but we all go through it. Even rich, hot chicks like you, I guess.”
I zoned him out. I preferred clubs that weren’t owned by the famiglia or other mafiosos in town, since the moment I turned twenty-one, Tore spread my picture to all his employees.
“Just don’t tell your boss I’m here.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m not looking to get fired.”
I held up my black bank card. “You hold off until an hour after he gets here, and you can write yourself whatever tip you want.”
He chuckled. “You got yourself a deal.”
And you’re an idiot, I thought. He accepted that way too quickly, and if Tore ever found out, the guy would lose not only his job but probably a couple of fingers too.
My big adoptive brother was the type of guy with a heart of gold fifty percent of the time, but with a couple of screws loose the other fifty, especially when lied to.
I perused the club again. Maybe they weren’t coming. Maybe Tore’s plans that I overheard for Renzo’s welcome-home party had changed. I fiddled with the toothpick full of cranberries from my latest cocktail. Two and a half hours and counting. I let out a heavy sigh. It was time to call it quits.
Just as I stuck a tip beneath my unfinished drink, someone shoved me against the bar. The glass spilled, the liquor draining down the front of my dress.
“For fuck’s sake.” I pinched and squeezed the tight fabric, already sticky between my breasts and down my belly. “Perfect.” What a fantastic end to a wonderful freaking night. The one time I dressed up, this happened.
“You alright?” asked the random assailant at my back. His heavy hand landed on my shoulder, trying to turn me around, strength as curbed as his slurred speech. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“I think not. Frank, cut this guy off.”
“Oh, come on, babe.” The idiot refused to take the hint. “Don’t be like that.”
With a simple grapple and a twist of the hand that had been on me, the guy groaned and tumbled against the bar.
“When a woman says no, she means no. Take the hint, asshole.”
After shoving him off, I forced my way through the throng of bodies to the bathroom. Damn it, there was a long line, and even though I was cleared for VIP access, I preferred not letting Tore know I was here. Desperation for a guy wasn’t a color I wore, ever.
I glanced up at the office. Still no light shining from the damaged sliver. If Tore and Renzo really weren’t coming, then I was going to put my adopted brother’s private bathroom and shower to good use.