Chapter Eleven

Frosty.

That was the word that described my interactions with Santino in the following weeks.

I was furious. Santino was even more furious.

Neither of us would back down. As usual.

That’s why we hadn’t shared a word except for public pleasantries when my engagement to Clifford rolled around at the start of October. Luckily, I had been busy with preparations for my engagement party, eighteenth birthday party and my move to Paris. Provoking Santino had been the least of my worries. And if I really felt like riling him up, I still had the option of telling him about the photo I took of him and dear Dolora.

We celebrated the engagement at our home. High tables and buffet tables were still arranged in our living room and the yard from my eighteenth birthday party the day before. Though party was the wrong word for the social gathering my parents had prepared. It was a soiree that required me to smile politely and engage in small talk. Definitely not the excitement I’d hoped for. I promised myself to party once I was in Paris, away from prying eyes. Santino could sulk all he wanted, I’d have the time of my life in Paris.

I’d picked a white cocktail dress for the occasion, trying to play the good mafia princess everyone wanted me to be. Santino didn’t react to my choice of color. Usually he would have commented on it, but he was being overly professional these days.

His vigilant mask didn’t crack in the slightest when Mrs. Clark entered the room at her husband’s side. Heat traveled up my throat. I wasn’t sure if she knew that I’d caught her with Santino. I was pretty sure Clifford was unaware of his mother’s extramarital activities and I had no intention to tell him. It would only cast a bad light on the Outfit. My loyalties didn’t lie with Clifford but with my family, and I doubted that would ever change. He was a means to an end, and so was I for him.

My family greeted the Clarks under the watchful eyes of our guests. We had invited people from the political elite as well as important families from the Outfit. Of course, the press was invited as well. Clark Senior had insisted on it. His entire life played out before cameras.

Clifford gave me a tense smile. In his form-fitting suit, he looked really dapper. He’d even cut his sonny boy hair short.

“You cut your hair,” I murmured.

“My father thought it would look better on camera.”

I nodded, though I didn’t agree. Then my gaze dragged over to Mrs. Clark who kept looking at Santino. If she kept it up, someone would eventually realize something was going on between them. I really hoped Santino would have the decency to keep his hands to himself today. If he dared banging her at my engagement party, I wouldn’t have to tell Dad about Santino’s sexual activities, I’d kill him myself.

Fury sizzled in my belly.

I’d thought I was over my anger, but seeing Mrs. Clark now, I realized my jealousy still burned brightly. It was a very sobering realization.

I tore my gaze away and motioned Clifford to follow me to the fireplace. Dad and Mr. Clark stepped in front of our guests and shook hands, then Dad addressed the crowd, officially announcing my engagement to Clifford.

Sofia caught my eyes across the room. She stood beside her husband Danilo. They seemed to have overcome some of their difficulties from the beginning of their bond. Before my birthday party, I hadn’t seen her in almost two months. I could tell that she was eager for a conversation. Talking over the phone was always risky so I hadn’t been able to share details of my recent interactions with Santino with her yet.

After a few photos of our families, and Clifford and I holding hands and smiling at each other, the guests began to swarm around us to congratulate us. There was curiosity in the eyes of many, especially the political guests, while wariness lingered on the faces of many Made Men and their families. I knew my marriage to Clifford was a very controversial topic in the Outfit, but I trusted in Mom’s and Dad’s judgment regarding the bond.

Eventually the constant hand-shaking and small talk got overwhelming, even for someone as accustomed to it as me.

Clifford gave me a look that suggested he felt the same way. “The photographers must have taken a billion photos of us by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll pick the least favorable. They always make the best stories,” I muttered under my breath. I had a love-hate relationship with the press, especially after they ridiculed one of the outfits that I’d put together a few months ago and worn to a charity event: a flowy oversized blazer almost reaching my knees that was held together by a wide belt and micro-shorts plus a lace bralette beneath it. What had really set them off had been the checkered knee-socks matching the blazer that I’d combined with ridiculously high heels.

I’d felt a great amount of satisfaction when not long after the derogatory article, girls not only from our circle but socialites from Chicago as well had started wearing similar outfits to parties and public events.

Clifford cleared his throat at my badmouthing of the press and a tense pause ensued. Too many people were watching our interaction, analyzing every facial expression, trying to read from our lips. Clifford was a politician’s son. Pissing off the press probably was very high on his list of things to avoid. “A good love story sells too.”

I shrugged. It probably did, but I wasn’t sure we’d convince them our story was one of love. Maybe it was just my overthinking mind but I doubted anyone would see sparks flying between Clifford and me.

My gaze found Santino standing off to the side watching everything with a bored expression. Anyone who thought only girls could have a resting bitch face had never seen Santino. His constant pissed-off look was legendary.

“I’m used to attention but today I feel like a zoo animal,” I whispered.

Clifford nodded and smiled as if I’d said something nice. He knew how to play the game. I smiled in turn, even if I didn’t feel like it.

“How about we go somewhere more private?”

“I’d love to,” I said immediately, needing a breather.

Clifford lightly touched my shoulder as he steered me toward the door. I could see Santino watching us from across the room where he hovered behind Mom and Dad and chatting with one of the Clark’s bodyguards that he hadn’t offended yet.

We stepped into the lobby but even here a few people mingled to chat. We gave them smiles and I nodded toward the back. Clifford and I headed toward the kitchen, which of course was also crowded with staff. But the kitchen had access to a part of the garden that usually only staff used for their breaks. Now at the busiest time of the party, none of them were out there, so Clifford and I had some privacy as the door closed behind us. We settled on the chairs.

“So now we’re engaged,” Clifford said in disbelief.

“We are.”

Clifford pulled two cigarettes from the pocket in his pants and offered one to me, but I quickly shook my head. Even if staff was currently too busy for a break, they might poke their head out to check on us and I didn’t want them to see me smoking. This would undoubtedly reach my parents’ ears in record time and then I’d be in a whole world of trouble.

Clifford gave a knowing smile. “Keeping up appearances, I get it.” He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag.

“Let me take a quick pull,” I said.

He held out his cigarette to me and I took a deep drag before he put it back in his mouth. “Everyone probably thinks we’re exchanging spittle in a different way right now.”

“Would you prefer that?”

Clifford thought about that then shook his head. “Last time was a bit of a turn-off,” he said with a laugh.

“Santino won’t act like that again, especially at our engagement party.”

“I’m seeing someone anyway, so I can’t kiss anyone else.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’re dating someone.” I’d taken sleeping around into consideration but a relationship? That really posed the risk of Clifford going into our marriage in love with someone else. The odds definitely wouldn’t be in our favor then.

“Not dating. We’re friends with benefits, but we agreed to be exclusive for the time being.”

I pursed my lips. My experiences with relationships were limited but this sounded like dating, even if they didn’t call it by that name. A rose by another name is still a rose, right? “So you’re getting along well, have sex, and are faithful to each other… that’s dating where I come from.”

“Does anyone in your world really date?”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Like I said we both don’t want a relationship.”

“Does she know about me? It’ll be all over the news tomorrow.”

“She knows.”

“You didn’t tell her about the deal, right?” That was top secret after all.

“No, I told her we’re in an open relationship because we know we’re too young to commit fully but so madly in love that we know we’re endgame.”

I snorted, couldn’t help it. “I hope this doesn’t backfire and you’ll be heartbroken when you have to marry me and are in love with your friend with benefits.”

“I could say the same to you, right? Only you have a bodyguard with benefits.”

I tensed. “There’s nothing between Santino and I.”

Clifford’s expression made it clear that he didn’t believe me.

“I’m not lying. We don’t sleep with each other and we definitely aren’t in love.”

Technically neither was a lie. I had the tiniest crush that I had every intention of killing very soon.

“Maybe that’s true. But I remember the way he looked at you when he caught us kissing, and today again when we announced our engagement. He wants you.”

I shook my head.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to admit it because you’re off limits, but trust me, he wants you, and I can tell that you wouldn’t say no.”

I shrugged. “So what, you said I could have fun.”

“Definitely. Just make sure it stays that, just fun.”

“Don’t worry.”

When the guests finally left late that night, I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It had been a long day. I wasn’t sure what I’d thought I would feel after I got engaged to Clifford, maybe a stronger sense of peace with my future. But my conversation with Clifford today hadn’t laid my worries to rest. He and I were bound by duty, not by emotions. He had someone he enjoyed spending time with and I had to trust that he wouldn’t get emotionally attached and either cancel our marriage or enter it being in love with someone else.

I didn’t try to dwell on the part of me that hoped Clifford would break our bond at some point. That wouldn’t reflect well on the Outfit. I put on my pajamas but was too restless for sleep so I snuck out of my room, hoping I wouldn’t cross paths with Mom and Dad. Mom would definitely want to talk to me after my engagement. If today hadn’t been as busy as it was, she probably would already have taken me aside for a talk. She wanted to make sure I was okay, and I wasn’t sure I was in a state of mind to lie as convincingly as a conversation with Mom about Clifford required.

I hurried across the hall to Leonas’s room. I knocked, then waited impatiently.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” I hissed, glancing up and down the hallway nervously. I could hear voices downstairs. Mom and Dad were probably still discussing the day’s events.

“Come in!”

I slipped in and closed the door.

Leonas perched on his windowsill, his legs dangling outside, a cigarette in his mouth. He threw a glance over his shoulder. He was still in his dress shirt and elegant pants but had dropped his tie and jacket on the floor.

“If I were Dad, you’d be in major trouble,” I said as I closed the door and walked toward him.

“Dad always knocks. You are the only one who doesn’t knock.” He took another drag.

“I did knock this time,” I muttered. Now that Leonas was getting older, I was protecting myself by knocking. I didn’t want to catch him doing things I’d never be able to erase from my mind.

I climbed onto the sill beside him, even if I wasn’t too fond of the prospect of falling to my death.

“You aren’t supposed to smoke,” I said with a smirk.

Leonas blew smoke into my face, making me cough. “You really wanna play who’s more in trouble with Dad?”

“As of now, I’m not in trouble. I’ve been good as far as Dad knows.” I held out my hand. “Give me a cigarette.”

He fumbled for one in the pack balancing on his thigh then gave it to me with that annoying knowing smile. “Yeah, you’re better at hiding your trouble-seeking ways.”

I shoved it into my mouth. “To be fair, you aren’t even trying to play the good kid most days.”

Leonas shrugged. “Dad’s stricter with me anyway.”

“Comes with being a boy,” I said around the cigarette in my mouth.

“Santino hates when you smoke.”

“I know, but he’s not here now, is he,” I said. “Now shut up and give me fire.”

He lit up my cigarette. “Bitch.”

“Asshole.” I smiled sweetly, took a deep drag then coughed.

Leonas shook his head. “You’re just doing it to piss him off.”

“And you’re doing half the shit you’re up to, to piss Dad off.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Let me have some fun.” I took another, even deeper pull, coughed even harder, and handed the cigarette to Leonas who put it in his mouth as well. He looked ridiculous with the two smokes in his mouth. Only the brainless groupies crushing on him would think his quirks were cool. “You can have all the fun you want for all I care. Mom and Dad probably won’t see it that way though.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

“Works for me, sis.”

I grinned then took another drag. I never really liked smoking. Leonas was right, in the beginning, I did it to piss Santino off. Now it’s become a stupid habit whenever I’m anxious.

“You realize Dad will hunt Santino down if he finds out there’s something going on between you.”

“Shut up. What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between us.”

“Sure. I’ll ask you again in a few months.”

“Stay out of my love life.”

“You don’t have one.”

I glared. “Well, I have every intention of changing that.”

“Good luck with that.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “As my brother, you should tell me to stay away from men. You’re not doing a good job being the overprotective Made Man.”

“I’ll protect you from real dangers, don’t worry, but I sure as fuck won’t protect your hymen, sis.”

I grimaced. “Do me a favor and never say that word again.”

“I’m having fun, so why shouldn’t you? Clifford isn’t waiting for marriage either.”

“You know most people in the Outfit won’t see it that way. If they find out, I lost it to anyone but my husband there’ll be a scandal.”

“I’ll make sure to cause an even bigger scandal to distract them from you.”

I laughed. “I’m sure you’d succeed.”

The following weeks and months passed in a blink, and before I knew it, I’d attended my last two social events in January, Dad’s and Danilo’s birthdays. Wistfulness caught me by surprise when I closed my suitcase one day before I’d leave for Paris. This was it. Tomorrow I’d leave Chicago and my family behind for months, possibly years. If all went to plan, I’d be gone for three years.

My stomach flipped with nerves.

I’d never been separated from my family for that long. A weekend in our lake house had been the extent of it. Suddenly, I was terrified. I was used to having a tight-knit family and always someone to talk to. In the future, I’d have to pick up a phone, and that meant being careful what I said because you never knew who was listening. I swallowed. Of course, there would be Santino… but he and I weren’t really on speaking terms right now. I had every intention to change that in Paris, but I wasn’t sure if our relationship would ever reach a level that would make me feel comfortable sharing problems with him.

A soft knock rang out.

“Come in,” I called but nothing happened. Instead another soft knock sounded. I got up and went over to the door. I found Bea’s little face looking up at me when I opened the door. She held her favorite stuffed animal in her arms, a pink pig called Peppa. I’d watched too many episodes of the series with her to feel the same joy seeing the well-loved toy as Bea did.

“Can I come in?” Bea asked with a sweet smile. I opened the door wide. “Of course.”

Bea tiptoed in almost shyly, regarding my suitcases warily. She bit her lower lip, clutching Peppa Pig even closer.

“Is everything all right?” I asked, getting down on my haunches in front of my little sister.

“I don’t want you to go. I’ll miss you too much.”

Tears sprang into my eyes. I hugged her tightly. When I’d made plans to go to Paris, I hadn’t thought about what that would mean for Bea. She was only five. I’d miss so much of her growing up while I was gone. I pulled back and pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. “I’ll come visit often. And maybe you can visit me in Paris as well. Then we can go to the Eiffel Tower and have hot chocolate in one of the artsy cafés near Montmartre.”

“What’s that?”

“A beautiful part of Paris up on a hill. You’ll love it.”

She nodded gravely, then held out her pig. “This is for you.”

I took it. “For me?”

“So you’ll remember me in Paris.”

“But it’s your favorite.”

She nodded again, looking even more serious. “I want you to have it so you won’t forget me.”

“Bea, I could never forget you. I’ll call often and I’ll send you pretty clothes so we can match even if we’re not in the same city.”

She beamed up at me. “Will you come back for my birthday?”

“I’ll come back even before that. I have a long list of events I’m still supposed to attend, so you’ll see me very often.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding slightly mollified. “Can we watch Peppa Pig together?”

It was almost seven-thirty, Bea’s bedtime, but I agreed anyway. We settled on the bed together, Bea snuggled up against my side. I opened an episode of Peppa Pig on my iPad. We had already watched it a while ago, but I doubted there was a single episode we hadn’t watched at least twice. Mom poked her head in a few minutes later, probably wanting to bring Bea to bed.

My little sister had fallen asleep beside me.

Mom smiled, her eyes glistening.

“Don’t get emotional,” I whispered.

She smiled apologetically as she crept closer to us and perched on the edge of the bed. “I’ll bring her to her room.”

“Let her sleep here.” It had been a while since she’d spent the night in my bed. Mainly because she was a restless sleeper and I couldn’t sleep with her kicking and turning all night. But tonight, I wanted to hold her close.

Mom nodded, then kissed Bea’s and my forehead before she left. I actually had to push back tears. I hadn’t thought I’d feel overly emotional leaving Chicago and my family behind. Not because I didn’t love them or enjoy being with them, but because I was looking forward to experiencing something new.

And it wasn’t as if I’d be alone in Paris. I’d always have Santino by my side. Though, if he kept up his sour mood, that would probably not be the most pleasant experience.