“I, for one, think Rowan could pull off just about anything. You should see her wardrobe. It’s so refined,” Vivi asserts.
One of the older women lifts a drawn-on eyebrow at my leggings but doesn’t say anything, out of deference, I’m certain, to Vivi and her position as Angel Valachi’s sister. He wants the Scarpetta-Marzano wedding to be a grand display of the unity between the Five Families, a harbinger of a golden age of accord between us all.
Carina turns to go back to the dressing room and emerges a short while later in a sleeker, more tailored gown. The tension is broken, and we chat and drink and try on the bridesmaid’s gowns chosen for us—red velvet columns that are beautiful on the Italian women but which make my and Evie’s Irish skin even paler than normal.
“She did that on purpose,” Evie mutters, wriggling out of the dress.
“I’m sure she didn’t.” I zip my own dress, carefully marked for alterations, back into the dressmaker’s bag. “And you look beautiful, anyway, so don’t worry about it.”
“Did what on purpose?” Vivi asks.
I don’t need to look to feel the warning in Evie’s glance. We don’t need to draw the Valachis into any residual pettiness between Carina and Evie. “Nothing. Do you want to pet Clem? I think he can be officially off-duty now.”
“Really? Yes!”
I draw Vivi away, and we settle in a corner of the room to play with Clem. He indulges us, head-butting and purring loudly before curling up at Vivi’s feet. “I need to get one of these Maine coons,” she murmurs. “He is the coolest cat.”
“He’s the best,” I agree. “I want him to be the ringbearer in my wedding when I get married one day.” This day has me sentimental and thinking about weddings.
Vivi grins. “He could wear a little bow tie! With the ring on it! That would be amazing.” Her eyes turn dreamy. “I want the big, elaborate princess wedding. An orchestra, miles of flowers, everyone in poofy pastel dresses…”
“Yeah. Romance,” I add. “It has to scream romance. I want to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage. Or a limo. A limo would be okay.”
“And leave in a convertible with the big “Just Married” sign.”
We turn silent, each of us lost in our daydreams.
“Rowan.” Evie’s call jerks me to attention. “It’s time to go.”
I hug Vivi. “I’ll see you later.”
The drive home is tense. Evie sits beside me in the back of the SUV, stiff and irritated.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “I thought, all things considered, that went fairly well. I made some new friends—”
Evie’s bitter laugh stops me. “Don’t be stupid, Rowan. There wasn’t a single friend in that room.”
Chapter 13
Enzo
I fix the bandage onto my shoulder. I hope it scars; it will be Rowan’s way of branding me, and some twisted part of me likes that idea. I pull my shirt on and push each button into place before tucking the ends into my pants.
A knock on the door sounds as I pick up my tie. “Come in,” I call before turning to the mirror and fastening the tie around my neck and fixing the collar. My gaze flicks to Tom in the mirror. “You are the worst retiree on the planet. What brings you here?”
Tom smirks, but his levity fades quickly, replaced by a grim expression. “I know today is a big day for the family. I wouldn’t bother you, but it’s important.”
I turn to him. “What is it?”
“Frank's body was found.”
My stomach clenches along with my fists.
Fuck.
Frank was the sole remaining organizer of the Pits. The others were ash, courtesy of the fire that burned the atrocity to rubble. He was my revenge to take, but it appears that someone got to him first. “Do you know who took him out?”
I walk away from Tom, reaching for control. I’d had my men working on hunting him down, but I clearly should have done the work myself. I had been so busy since returning to the States, struggling to keep the Roje in line and making sure they didn’t shit on my doorstep.