Page 18 of Dating the Don

The woman straightens instantly. There isn’t a single person in this area who doesn’t know the Dominio family is the true governing force. They own most of the damned town.

“And her fiancée, by the way…” Ada continues, tilting her head in my direction.

At last, the woman turns to look at me. She finds my humbleoutfitand worn-out shoes immediately lacking. I’m perfectly en vogue, so it’s offensive. Granted, my interpretation of the trend uses a slightly stronger color scheme than most. At least the woman working behind the counter is smart enough to keep her facestraight even ifshe finds fault with my appearance. Although I consider myselfconfident, I realize for the first time that Cristiano may have been rightin his statement that a mafioso's wife must have a specific appearance and behavior.

“O-of course Ms. Dominio,” the woman slides from behind the counter and heads to lock the door. Ada gives me a knowing smirk as if this sort of special treatment is just expected for people like her, or us now, I guess.

We head to the back dressroom and Itry on dress after dress. Ada comfortably relaxes on a white leather couch while enjoyingchampagne witha strawberry in theflute next to a platter full of sample cakes from local bakeries. Ada won’t touch them; she doesn’t usually do sugar, but I can’t stop throwing glances their way.

I wonder if Cristiano would like to try them?

The thought jars me. Why do I care what he wants? It’s not like we’re going to actually get married. This is all just for show. Yet, my mind is instantly zipping to the image of he and I naked, in bed, eating these cake samples.

Desire curls warmly in my gut, and starts to curl lower.

Ada snaps to break my daze. “Hello? Earth to Maeve?”

“Hm?”

“I don’t even want to know what you were just thinking about,” Ada grins wolfishly. “I still think the second dress was the best one.”

I let my hands run softly over the beaded bodice of the gown I’m wearing now. The second one was more of an a-line and I don’t love those. I don’t want to hide my hips. I want to look perfect. “I know you do, but none of them are….”

“Yours,” Ada finishes for me.

I nod. "I simply can't stop imagining how I would alter them or where I would decide to incorporate color.Like this one? I find the beading distracting. It is not what I would wear to that kind of event." I can feel the seams straining as I try to move, twirl, or even try to dance in it. I shake my head. “They don’t work.”

I sigh and sit next to her, careful not to spill any champagne on the dress. “My mom would have made me the perfect dress for it.”

Ada nods and pulls me into her arms for a hug. I let myself be cradled there, sipping champagne.

“I still can’t believe that somehow she’s caught up in all of this mess. I never would have guessed,” Ada sighs. “All of the memories of your mother that I have are just too gentle or sweet or… I dunno.”

“Yeah. I can’t see her having anything of interest to the Irish Mafia,” I agree, then look over my shoulder to make sure that nobody can hear us.

“Oh don’t worry about the staff, they are loyal to your fiancé. They would never breathe a word.”

Somewhat comforted, I turn back to the conversation at hand. “How can a random man know her name? Just by the initials? It feels like there’s something more there. And my mother never even sped or j-walked.”

Actually, putting it into that context, it does feel more suspicious. Why did she go throughso muchtrouble to be aperfectlylaw-abiding citizen? Never sticking a single toe out of line? Never attracting attention to herself? Was she hiding in plain sight in the Dominio household?

“I always thought that it was weird that the whole time I’ve known you, nobody has ever come to visit you. I mean, sure, being the black sheep of a family is a real thing but… nobody? Not one single person? A distant cousin?”

“I’ve always known that I’m of Irish descent, as if the red hair and ruddy skin wasn’t enough of a telling feature, but I’ve been trying to remember if anybody Irish ever came by the house over the years. I don’t think so….” I finish the champagne and slowly savor the strawberry as we dwell on it.

“You should have had at leastonegrandparent somewhere that gave enough of a shit to come visit or something. It’s just weird. I say that with love.”

I push up off the couch and start unzipping the current dress. It hurts that she’s right. My mother was always so loving and generous that I never stopped to think that maybe it wasn’t normal that it was just the two of us. I never really wanted for anything despite always being aware that my life didn’t look anything like Ada’s. Even when I used to ask my mom about our family, she would always say the same thing. We are all the family that we will ever need.

What if that was just her way of protecting me from something much, much bigger than us?

Even still… maybe she was wrong. A supportive family would be a dream. I’ve always felt more comfortable in a unit.

Mom must have known something I don’t.

Something important.

My mind wanders as I try the second dress back on. I don’t like the cut but there’s potential, I guess. I can see the changes that I would make in order to turn it into something spectacular. Ada won’t let us leave until I have chosen a dress. There’s not even a damned tag on it so I know that however much it costs, I’m going to be sick about it. It’s going to clear out almost all of my savings. I’m positive about it.

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