Page 7 of Dangerous Deception

“Well, he'd better be some kind of dreamboat. That’s the only reason I can think of that you would keep him away from me,” Marie says between sips. “I can’t believe it. In one month you’ve lost one fiancé, gained another, and then you’re getting married next week?”

“Mmhmm. A May wedding.”

“How beautiful.”

“Which is actually why I asked you here for lunch,” I say, lowering my fork once more. “It goes without saying, but would you be my maid of honor?”

Marie’s screech is so loud that several other people in the restaurant turn to stare as she launches out of her seat and throws her arms around me. “Yes! Oh, my God, yes!”

“Why is this a surprise?” I laugh, hugging her back. “You were going to be my maid of honor at my other wedding.”

“That doesn’t make it any less special,” she says, kissing my cheek and then retaking her seat. “It’s not every day you get to be a maid of honor, never mindtwice. And for my best friend!” She throws one hand up, then picks up her napkin and dabs at her eyes.

“You’re my best friend for sure, and I want you there,” I say. “I can’t do this without you.”

Would she still say yes if she knew who I was and what kind of criminal world I lived in? Would she look at me the same? I can’t tell. I’d like to tell myself that yes, she would. But growing up in this life has taught me that no one is that reliable.

“Stop,” Marie says bashfully, weeping gently. “This is my moment.”

“You won’t have to do much, either, because it’s all being taken care of.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the wedding is next week,” I say. “The planning is basically over.”

“Wait, really? Okay, you need to tell me everything. Color scheme, flowers, meal plans,everything.”

“I will, just excuse me for a sec first, okay?” With a laugh, I rise and step away from the table.

As I hurry to the bathroom, I glance back to see Marie texting eagerly on her phone. I can only imagine who she is texting. I manage to keep the smile on my face as I enter the bathroom andam greeted by chilled air and the sharp scent of floral antiseptic. The bathroom is thankfully empty, and after checking the other stalls, I quickly throw myself inside one and lock the door.

The mask slips.

I’m getting married to a murderer. Amonster. The head of a family that’s been tearing through all the power in this city like we were just placed in his way to be devoured. How am I supposed to keep Raffaele happy when each time I’m near him, I will only be able to think of Carlos?

Raffaele has a dangerous reputation, and the closer we get to the wedding date, the more uncertain I become. Can I really do this? Can I really walk down that aisle and bind myself to a man like that?

The tears come suddenly, flooding my eyes. Scratchiness sweeps up the back of my throat, and I huddle on the toilet seat, pressing my hands over my mouth to muffle the sobs bubbling in my chest.

I miss Carlos. Things were easier when it was just him.

I miss him.

I miss my mom.

Maybe there’s another way, another solution that I can’t see yet that involves my art or something else. My mind races as fast as the tears pour down my cheeks, destroying my carefully applied makeup. I weep until my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out expecting a text from Marie asking what’s taking so long.

It’s not from Marie. It’s from my father.

I read the message, and it sobers me as quickly as pouring an ice bucket of water over my head.

“Shit.”

Raffaele is refusing to honor the payments until we’re married. He doesn’t trust that I won’t back out, so he won’t provide business or debt relief until the day we are married. Inhis text, my father says he can’t wait until then so he’s taken out another loan to tide him over until Raffaele sends his first payment, but I’m not to worry. One more debt won’t break us with Raffaele poised to help us.

My heart sinks to the dark depths of my gut.

Backing out is not an option.

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