Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

ELENA

“ H ow do I look?” I ask Dario, unable to hide the smile on my face.

When the hair and makeup crew—yep, crew —were doing their work on me, I tried to stay detached and above the whole thing. I tried telling myself I felt like a pig dressed for the market. Yet the more they worked, the more I could see myself as beautiful. That’s rare for me.

Now, I stand in front of Dario in a stylish, form-fitting dress. They’ve made my cheeks even more flushed than they usually are. My hair is up in an intricate style with pins.

Dario stands on the other side of my bedroom in a tuxedo, his freshly shaven jaw tight as he stares at me. “Good,” he says.

I try not to show any disappointment. He’s gone from fiery hot to icy cold all over again. I’m not sure what I expected, but good feels majorly underwhelming. I nod, keeping it all business. “Good enough for the party?”

“You’ll fit in,” he says, offering his arm. “Shall we? The car’s waiting.”

When I take his arm, I’m sure I can sense something in him. It’s strange and difficult to identify. It’s almost like he doesn’t want me to touch him. It’s as if it makes him uncomfortable and so different from when we were all over each other.

I remind myself this isn’t about genuine affection. I’ve got no right to be disappointed. This is about obligation, nothing more.

“Where are your parents?” I ask when we climb into the back of the limo.

“They’re meeting us there,” he says, talking to me but looking out the window. We sit on opposite sides of the limo. He made a point of that when we climbed in. “There’s something you need to know. From now on, if you need to leave the townhouse, you’ll always have security, not just a driver.”

“Security?” A knot tightens in my stomach. “Should I be worried?”

He slowly turns to me. It’s like he’s holding back an army of words. I wonder if I’m reading too much into everything he does. “No, because all of this will be over soon for you. This is part of the Mafia life, Elena: never going anywhere alone, always having to look over your shoulder.”

“Does this have something to do with the charity that was attacked?”

He fiddles with his silver cufflinks. He looks incredibly dashing with his dark hair combed back, his intense eyes seeming somehow annoyed and captivating simultaneously. “You shouldn’t be asking questions like that.”

“You were the one who told me about it to begin with.”

“That was a mistake.”

“Was everything about this morning a mistake?” I challenge.

His lip twitches, but he forces his expression back to his usual unreadable state. “You’re addicted to sassing me. I’m beginning to see that.”

“I find it hard not to sass you when you’re so random with your moods.”

“There’s nothing random in this life,” he snarls.

“Is that supposed to be poetic?”

I fold my arms, looking out the window and watching the city roll by. I’m sure I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye. I’m sure his gaze moved to my breasts when I folded my arms. I don’t have an enormous amount of cleavage on show, but it’s enough to get his attention. I fold my arms tightly, my skin tingling as he stares at me. I pretend not to notice.

As we pull up outside the fancy hotel, he says, “Remember, you can’t sass me in here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be a quiet and obedient employee.”

“Why are you acting like you’d be anything else?” he grunts.

I hide my hurt. I hope so, at least. It shouldn’t exist. Even if he’s being a jackass, he’s got a point. I knew what I was signing up for, but that was before the kiss. That was before he gave me hope for … for what? That his family would accept me? That Aunt Rosa would welcome him? That his life isn’t too dangerous for me? That this all isn’t just an act?

In my head, I hear Giulia. Make it your mantra .

“You’re right. This is just business.”

He flinches as if he has any right to, as if he’s being anything other than jerkish. “Exactly.”

The driver opens the limo door. Dario steps out and then offers me his hand. It might be petty, but I don’t take it. I hold my hand near his and instead climb out myself. His eyes gleam as though he might smile, but he doesn’t.

Leading me into the party, I’m stunned by how extravagant it is. A band plays from a big stage at the front. Servers circulate everywhere. The function room has several large, glittering chandeliers. If I was in a better mood, I might savor it, even relish it. These are the kinds of places I never imagined I would be.

“We should circulate,” Dario says bitterly as we stand at the edge of the room. “Make nice.”

I’ve got my hand on his arm, all for show, doing my best to keep any sass to a minimum. “You don’t sound excited by the prospect.”

“Everything here is fake.”

“Fake is our specialty.”

I’m not looking at him, but I can feel the tension in his body at my words. Apparently, he doesn’t enjoy being reminded of the obvious.

Before we can proceed, a woman around Dario’s age approaches us. She’s glamorous and has a model-like physique, her legs almost entirely displayed. She’s dressed like a nineteen-twenties flapper, complete with a headband.

“Dario, darling,” she says in a British accent. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Victoria,” Dario says. “Elena, this is Victoria Langley, the managing director of?—”

“The reason we’re all here, you mean!” she bursts out with a laugh. “And you must be the fiancée we’ve all heard so little about.”

“Allow me to introduce Elena Ro …” Dario hesitates. He almost used my real name. “Esposito.”

She offers her hand. “Charmed.” When I take it, she pulls me in closer. She seems borderline manic. I wonder if she’s on something. “Has Dario told you that, once upon a time, I was going to be his wife?” she says secretively, even though we can both hear her clearly.

“You’re overstating things,” Dario mutters.

“Oh, pooh,” she giggles, still holding my hand but looking at Dario. “There was talk for a time when I made my debut stateside. We were going to make quite the match, weren’t we, Dario darling?”

“If you say so.”

“Am I being terribly rude?” she says, finally turning to me.

I pull my hand away, offering her what I hope is a polished, civilized smile. “You’re not being terrible or rude, Victoria. I wouldn’t resent anyone for lamenting the fact they let a catch like Dario go. Unfortunately for you, it’s too late.”

Victoria’s lip curls, but she quickly plasters on a fake smile. I’m learning that these people rarely, if ever, show how they legitimately feel. She moves as if she’s going to place her hand on Dario’s chest.

Immediately, Dario puts his arm around me. “Excuse us, Victoria. I’m going to get my fiancée and myself a drink.”

I notice people watching us as he leads me through the party, his arm wrapped tightly across my shoulders. Heads turn, not-so-subtly staring. Dario takes us to the bar without looking back.

“What would you like?” he asks, his arm still wrapped around me.

“A soda’s fine,” I reply.

“Nothing stronger?”

“I’m not much of a drinker, and anyway…” I lean up, whispering in his ear, “I need to be on my A game.”

He turns so that his lips almost graze mine. He’s seriously messing with my head. The crazy part is I kind of like it. “People are watching,” he whispers. “It might be time for that show we talked about.”

I impulsively kiss him. He makes that groaning noise I recognize from earlier, but we break it off far quicker this time. I never knew a one-second-long kiss could be flooded with so much passion, but wow, a second longer, and I might have lost it.

After ordering two club sodas, we walk through the party.

I lean in and ask, “Do I seem like I belong?”

“You’ve got nothing to prove to these people.”

“Talk about mixed signals, Dario. I’m here to do a job, remember?”

“You’re doing well,” he says, seeming annoyed at what I’ve just said.

What right does he have?

We join Mr. and Mrs. Moretti at a table in the corner of the room. Salvatore is on his cell phone, typing with both thumbs and staring down at it. He doesn’t even greet us. Maria makes a show of standing up and giving us both big hugs and kisses.

“Did I see you speaking with Victoria Langley?” Maria asks.

When Dario doesn’t answer—he grits his teeth, staring wordlessly—I have to end the awkwardness. “Yes. She was regaling us with the tale of the lost romance between herself and Dario.”

Dario glances at me. His eyes gleam again. He looks proud this time. I guess I’m doing better than the first dinner.

“She was exaggerating,” Dario says.

“Alas, my son is telling the truth,” Maria replies. “Before you, dear Elena, Dario was woefully disinterested in the opposite sex. You must truly have a special quality.”

“She does, Mother,” Dario says in such a believable, certain way I almost buy it. “Doesn’t she look beautiful this evening?”

Maria appraises me. This time, when she speaks, she seems sincere. “She does. You do, Elena. You look angelic. Understated and sublime. Yes, quite beautiful.”

Salvatore looks up from his phone, glancing at his wife as though he thinks she’s had too much to drink. Maria offers me another smile. Maybe her sudden compliment is because she’s had too many glasses of champagne, but it still makes me glow warmly. Aunt Rosa has been the best guardian I ever could’ve asked for, but this is something else. For a brief moment, I imagine what it would be like to have a mother.

Then, I immediately kill the thought. Execute it. Maybe that’s dramatic, but I’m an actor. If I can’t be dramatic, who can?