Page 10 of Make You Mine

The sound of the piece of shit ex-boyfriend falling into a pool of his own blood brings my attention back to the scene in front of me.

I look around, thankful the service I could offer didn’t involve being the clean-up crew for this mess.

Nico’s voice cuts through the human stench in the air as he addresses Trevor and I.“Thank you both. Keep your phones near you, in case I have any concerns about Arianna tonight.”

We nod in understanding. “And Trent, don’t forget about the black-tie event on Thursday. It’s medical related and the perfect time to set some plans into place. I want you there with Trevor. Leo will debrief you both later this week.”

The most excitement I’ve felt in three years thrums through my body.

“I’ll be there, sir.”

How could I ever forget?

She’llbe there.

Four

If I have to fake another smile and kiss one more cheek, I might be sick. I'm not in a very peopley mood tonight. It’s been a terrible month. The only thing making this evening bearable is the free-flowing champagne.

“It’s been too long. How’s your mom?” I barely contain my scoff as I hear Junior ask the man, Vinny, beside me. He doesn’t give a fuck about this man. I swear I heard him talking to his trusted Capo, Vito, the other day, saying Vinny was becoming a “problem.”

“She’s been great… My brother says hi. He’s sorry he couldn’t attend tonight,” the problem says as he fixes his tie. I can see he’s uncomfortable standing this close to Junior. Junior isn’t necessarily a tall man, but the aura he gives off makes him appear larger than he is.

Ugh, the fakeness surrounding me churns my stomach. No one here actually gives a shit about what this evening is actually for. We’re here to raise money for a mobile medical clinic fleet that travels along the East Coast, offering free health careto anyone in need—a truly valiant effort. However, from what I'm seeing…people are only here to kiss my husband’s ass.

The East Coast Mobile Clinic is the brainchild of one of his many constituents, so I'm sure having Giovanni Santini Jr. at the event draws somewhat of a crowd. And hopefully, for the fundraiser aspect, some deep pockets. I would hate for all this effort to go to waste.

Turning away from Junior and the circle surrounding him, I grab another champagne flute from a passing waiter, downing it in two sips.

I never knew what loneliness was until I became Mrs. Santini, especially at these types of events. All the ladies of Junior’s men seem to congregate together, never asking me to join them. For some unknown reason, I’m left out of most of their affairs. I wonder if it has to do with them all hating my husband in one way or another. They probably all get together and talk about how horrible he is. Little do they know, I would love to be the president of that club.

I have no one. Well, no one who I can truly talk or vent to. Who I can share my innermost feelings with.

Excusing myself, I step away from the men and head to the restroom, swaying ever-so-slightly in my six-inch heels. Champagne and Louboutins—not a great combination. I giggle inwardly as I weave through the crowd, not caring if my bodyguard realizes I left Junior’s side.

Sure enough, when I peek over my shoulder, Luca is trailing behind me, keeping his distance, of course…but keeping me within sight. He makes a motion with his hand that I can’t make out, right before I slam into a hard chest. I practically ricochet off the man in front of me, so much so that he has to react quickly to steady me, both his warm hands gripping my shoulders before one lets go.

“I’m so sorry,” I rush to say as I straighten myself. Glancing behind me quickly, I make sure Junior isn’t watching. I don’t need him getting pissy about me drinking, or about another man touching me in any way.

“No problem. Glad I was here to help.”

My head whips back around, eyes widening and heart stuttering at the sound of his voice. So familiar yet foreign at the same time. Calm but laced with a hint of pain and anguish. No fucking way… How is he…

I stumble back as I take him in, his hand holding on to my upper arm to steady me once more. I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. What is he doing here, or an even better question…what the ever-loving hell was in that champagne?

“You okay…Doll?” he asks, and that endearment has my blood simmering. I can see his eyes shining with emotion, but it’s not the same reflected in mine.

There is no way he’s here right now; I must be dreaming.

How many times I’ve imagined his face…and this is how he chooses to address me after three fucking years of silence.

“How dare you fucking call me that.” My eyes instantly well with tears as I push past him and dart to the bathroom.

Locking myself in one of the stalls, I try to regain my composure.

“Motherfucker!” I yell through my hands covering my face.

How could he…No,how dare he show up like it’s nothing, when all along, the ghost of him has been haunting me every moment of every day.

---