Page 72 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

“Life is short, time is money. Whatever people say,” she says, snapping her fingers at me and gesturing to the bedroom. “Nadia,” she says, beckoning me like a dog.

“Likehell,” I start, but Elijah interrupts me, a hand around my elbow to stop a WWE match from happening in Ren’s foyer.

“Just get it over with,” he mutters.

I snatch up the dress, trying not to feel a pinprick of sadness as I scoop up the gorgeous, perfect gown into my arms and carefully haul it—ironically bridal style—into Harper’s bedroom without the train dragging on the ground. Olivia follows me.

“I know how to dress myself, Olivia, you can stay outside,” I mutter.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. I’m just here to verify your honesty. We can’t have you putting off the big day over a tight zipper, now can we?” she asks. She stands with her hands pressed to her hips, watching me as I undress.

“I thought you were telling me not to get settled in, that I wasn’t going to last long around here,” I remind her, turning away from her and vengefully stripping out of my clothes. I feel her eyes on me the whole time, but I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m too pissed off to be annoyed, shimmying down to my underwear infront of her. I hope she sees the fading marks Ren has left on me. The places where he branded me with his mouth and his touch. I hope she pictures what they’d look like on her.

“Marriage isn’t forever,” Olivia says, calmly, as if she’s enjoying this somehow. “And yours—it’s just good business. The sooner you have his last name, the sooner we can put the mess you’ve caused behind us all.”

I try to tune her out, focusing on pulling on my dress.

Not wife material.

I stand straight, avoiding the mirror and waiting for Olivia to zip me up. She steps up behind me, French tips grasping the zipper and dragging it up until the bodice hugs my rib cage. A perfect fit.

“Like a glove” she says, turning me around to face her and giving me a once-over. Her contempt for me is still unmasked. “Good. Go wait in the foyer, and don’t get it dirty—”

“Wait for what?” I demand.

She looks at me like I’m stupid.

“For your groom, obviously.”

20

Nadia

My head spins like someone has set wedding bells off in it. My groom? My groom…in this exact moment? Am I getting marriedright now?My hands curl into the silky fabric billowing from my hips, taking fistfuls of the dress and squeezing tight. This can’t be happening. Not right now, not this second. Talk about a marriage of inconvenience.

I double-check the time, then the mirror. This was supposed to be something planned, wasn’t it? A big, proper ceremony. Ren’s victory lap, where he could parade me around like the wild horse that he finally caught and broke or whatever. It wasn’t supposed to be last minute, no notice.Fuck.

I hear Harper arriving home, talking animatedly to Elijah in the front of the house. She’s made it home, and she’ll be safe and sound for the afternoon.

I look out the window, then down at my ridiculous outfit. A half-cocked plan starts to form. If I was still a reckless teenager, I’d probably just tear off across the city in a wedding dress, but as a grown woman, I’m realistic enough to know there’s no way I’m getting anywhere like this, which only leaves one question.

Do I trust Elijah to collect Sincere for me?

I’m not sure I have another choice. If he’s gone so far as to get the apartment, I have to hope he’ll see the rest of my plan through.

I message Luna at the last second, letting her know Elijah might show up in my stead. I send the message—and my apologies—as Harper crosses the threshold and gives a big, breathless gasp as she sees me in the wedding dress.

“Wow,” she yells, jumping up and down in excitement. “Mommy, what are you doing?” she cries, amazed. “You’re like the Barbie doll in the store! Are you getting married?” she gushes, touching the edge of my dress in fascination.

“Maybe!” I say, forcing a smile. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah!” she says and rubs the fabric against her cheek. “Are you getting married to Ren?”

It shouldn’t hurt that she can guess that. Of course she would guess that. I just wish it wasn’t so obvious.

“Yes, baby. To Ren.”

She makes one of those adult-like expressions that look hilarious on a girl her age, eyes blown wide as if I have dropped the juiciest gossip of the century.

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