Page 11 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

Bianca trusts me, as is evident in the way she so easily took my hand. I can’t ever betray it. Anything I do has to resonate like the actions of a platonic friend. She’s promised to another, and her father is a man to be feared. Her brother is my best friend, and even he won’t hesitate to kill me if I make any untoward move concerning her.

I pull her gently in my wake. No one’s paying us much attention. Everyone’s already on the dance floor, and we’ve been almost joined at the hip since we got here, our duties as best man and maid of honor overlapping throughout the hours.

“Where are we going?” Bianca asks when we step outside the dramatic Georgian manor.

I beeline for my car which I left in front when we got back from Brighton Beach during the night. A press of the fob opens the trunk, and I’m pulling a bag from it.

“Careful,” I tell her. “It’s fragile.”

“What is it?”

“A glitter bomb.” I smile at her as we turn back toward the manor. “Stephano tried to explode it onto Mattia last night.”

She laughs. “Good best man. You protected your charge.”

“I always protect my own.”

Our steps stall, and we’re staring at each other, these words hanging in the air between us.

Then Bianca seems to blink out of the spell or whatever it wasand is moving away.

“Where are we stashing this?” she asks over her shoulder.

“His luggage, I suppose?”

I follow her, and we go upstairs to the bridal suite in silence.

Once in, she closes the door, then turns to me.

“I’m not letting you play this trick on Hana. Glitter’s a bitch to get out of hair.”

I smile at her. “Oh, I had no intention of pranking her.”

Bianca smiles, and this time, it’s really like the sun has come out.

“Mattia will hate this.”

“He will.”

She giggles and starts looking for the luggage they packed for their honeymoon.

“Use this.” She hands me his toiletry case.

“He might use this on the plane,” I tell her.

“Exactly,” she says with a devilish grin. “Imagine the tiny bathroom, glitter exploding all over him.”

I laugh, picturing it. “No way he’ll get it all off him before they land.”

“Yes! And under the Caribbean sun, he’ll be sparkling like aTwilightvampire.”

We get to work fitting the glitter bomb into the small bag. Fromtime to time, we look up, and as our eyes meet, we start laughing again. The sparkle is back in her eyes, and with the glitter in her eye makeup, it makes her look like an impish fairy wielding magic dust.

Seeing this makes me smile harder, and the more I smile, the more she seems to loosen up, chattering away. The scent of her wraps around me, sweet and flowery and light, and I let this cloud of scent work its magic over me, soothing, warming, peaceful.

It takes us quite a long time to secure the fragile outer cover of the bomb, snagging it into the zipper so when Mattia pulls the zip open, the glitter will blow all over him.

We collapse into a heap of laughter when we’re done, backs pressed to the foot of the bed.

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