Page 41 of Sinister Devotion

The shimmering pearl and silver chiffon dress with a beaded corset bodice molds to my body like it was designed specifically for me. I give it a twirl to see how loose the skirt is. It flows like a breeze on a summer day. The heels waiting for me with their un-scuffed red bottoms complete the glamorous look that has my blonde curls pinned up with a few tendrils framing my face. My makeup is pristine and even better? There's a hidden pocket in the skirt.

I slip my phone into it before I head downstairs to where Julian's waiting in a black tuxedo that highlights his broad back, trim waist, and overall muscular physique. A grin spreads across my lips as my gaze travels up and down his body.

"I can read your mind, Claire, and no. You may not take advantage of me, devour me, or drag me into a corner. You'll force me to cancel this party that's growing into an event so far removed from a birthday celebration."

I laugh as he holds his hand out to me. Staff for the event move around the house in a flurry of activity. There's a buzz in the air that something exciting is going to happen. The guests arrive and Edward, although in a tux as a guest, can't stop himself from overseeing security personnel. He's obsessed with protecting Julian, and now I'm on that list of people he goes above and beyond to keep safe.

"Is he going to relax?" I ask Julian.

He shrugs. "I doubt it. The large crowds don't exactly calm him down. Come, let's head to the ballroom. We must be there to accept the guests."

I walk arm-in-arm with Julian into the room where strings of crystals hang at varying lengths from the twenty-foot-high ceilings, giving the appearance of stars twinkling above the dance floor. The polished dark cherry walls have lighting that brightens up the room to contrast against the maroon and silver color scheme around the room. It's beautiful, better than I would ever think to put together. There's an arrangement of tables, clad in burgundy and silver linens, strategically spaced around the room where everything is formally informal, if that's even a thing?

Servers walk around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of champagne. One wall holds a line of tables where the caterers have an assortment of food from stuffed mushrooms, cute salad bowls, and bite-sized servings of typical entrees. It's almost as if Julian wanted people to eat, but not to gorge or anchor themselves to the tables. Everything is made to be held in your hand without appearing like a slob who must hunch over a plate to eat. The event is mostly for socializing and networking, and the menu encourages that.

Thirty feet of glass doors open onto the travertine stone patio that showcases the pristinely trimmed back lawn. Julian and I stand a few feet away from the entrance to the ballroom as guests are announced.

There's a host amongst the event staff that handles questions and directs guests to their seats, as well as announcing their arrival.

"Announcing, Carmine Scarpella," the host says to us. Julian's entire body goes rigid as his grip tightens around my hand.

"Who the fuck invited him?" He snarls into my ear.

Confusion wars with anxiety as something's clearly wrong. I have to jerk my hand from his vice-like grasp as I tell him, "I did."

18

JULIAN

"Temper, temper, Julian," Carmine smirks as he bows slightly toward Claire. "Good evening, Claire Anderson of Nuvola Scura. Thank you for the invitation."

"It's withdrawn," I tell him in a low voice, my eyes scanning the room for Edward. Once I find him, I nod and tip my head toward Carmine.

"Julian," Claire whispers. "What's wrong?"

"You have no idea who this man is, Claire," I tell her because if she did, she would have never invited him.

"He works for the Building Department at City Hall," she hisses. "You said I could invite whoever I wanted."

"I also offered Miss Anderson an internship at Pro Point," Carmine volunteers, leering at her as other guests are announced and enter the ballroom. He knows I won't cause a scene in front of all these people and disappears in the influx of people arriving.

Claire and I have to smile and greet everyone while I'm desperate to get Carmine out of here. After everyone's inside and enjoying themselves, more like plowing through every expensive bottle of champagne and alcohol I have to offer, I pull her outside.

The valet drivers at the stand give us room. The four of them head toward the cars they've parked, pretending to check on them so as to not eavesdrop on our conversation. It gives me a chance to see them wreaking havoc on the lawn. It only adds to my building fury.

"Of all the fucking people. How? In what world do you and Carmine Scarpella cross paths?" I ask, my eyes darting between her and the drivers moving cars off the cobblestone circle and onto the left lawn. The way the tires spit up grass and dirt remind me of a monster truck rally, not a formal black-tie event.

"That day Fiona sent me on those errands. I ran into him at the office where I had to drop off those documents you signed off on. It was the day you exploded because your father showed up and forced his way into an invitation to this party. Thank god, he's not here, either."

"We'd never be that lucky. He's coming," I assure her. "My mother isn't here yet either. They're up to something, but you need to understand how dangerous Carmine is. And what the fuck was that about a job?"

"He was spouting something about guns and ammo and me being pretty for the campaign because I was upset, and he wanted to give me a way out of my current job."

I scoff, "Yes, because of course, he wants to sell guns to children. Great, be the face of that campaign in this political climate. He's a mob boss, Claire."

"No, he's a bit weird but there's no way he's a mob guy, right?"

My glare silences her rebuttal. "Why would I lie? And if you knew what I know about him, you'd want him dead."

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