Page 72 of Vicious Vows

“You’ll look fantastic in it.”

“I know.” I sipped my drink. “Retail therapy, alcohol, and you being with me are making me forget about my horrible morning.”

“I’m sorry your father showed up and ruined your high.”

“He did, didn’t he?” I set my flute on the end table. “How do I look Marchello in the eye knowing my father tried to kill him?”

“Marchello wouldn’t blame you for that.”

“What if he can’t help it? What if Nico sees me as the enemy too?” I set the laptop on the coffee table. “Milo said we were like Romeo and Juliet. What if that’s really true?”

“Okay, first, you need to take a gulp of that mimosa.” He took the glass from the end table and handed it to me, then pressed his finger to his chin. “Trust me, you and Marchello are hardly a tragedy. So no Shakespeare references. Although, he does brood a lot like Romeo in Act One.”

“I’m having a real meltdown here.” I chugged my mimosa. “My father tried to kill him. There’s going to be retaliation for that.”

“Maybe not.”

“I’m not stupid, Ricardo. I know how this works, regardless of what the men in my life think they know about me. Marchello and Milo will escalate this. And where is Danny?”

“I don’t know, but when Marchello finds him, it will be game over.”

“See what I mean?” I tossed the empty glass on the sofa. “Our families hate one another. How are we supposed to overcome that?”

“Why don’t you let them figure it out?”

“Because they’re all too arrogant and power-driven to see they’re destroying each other.” I placed my face in my hands. “And me.”

“Things have a way of working themselves out.” He rubbed my back. “You’ll see. I’ll pray for a positive outcome. My mother can start a prayer chain.”

“No.” I looked at him. “Do not involve your mother.”

“I’ll just tell her my friend needs extra prayers for an unspoken request.” He patted my shoulder. “She lives for that kind of stuff.”

“I guess it can’t hurt.”

“Should I make you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.” I searched for my glass in the cushions. “But you can make me another drink.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

I shoved the flute into his hands. “One more.”

“Only if you put the pink dress in your cart.”

“Deal.” I set the laptop back on my lap. “I’ll need new shoes for it too.”

“Of course you will.” He went to the bar by the window and poured some champagne into the glass, but when he reached for the orange juice, I waved him off.

“Why don’t you skip that part?”

“Because it would be a glass of champagne and not a mimosa.”

“It’s a mimosa without the orange juice.” I laughed. “It will be delicious.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He filled the glass with more champagne. “One mimosa without the orange juice coming right up.”

The clicking of the lock on the front door startled me. My heart rate picked up when the door opened and heavy footsteps hit the hardwood floor. I glanced at Ricardo, and he gave me a reassuring smile.

---