Page 95 of Mafia King: Matteo
“No, I’m fine with one. The beads and sequins in it are hand-sewn. I can’t imagine wearing anything else.”
“Very well.” Her staff members are taking notes and speaking quietly to one another.
“Mr. Borrelli gave us a list of invitees.” She hands me a list of names. “Please go over it this weekend. We’ll send the invitations out on Monday. Given the short notice, we have to get them out immediately.”
“I understand. My husband didn’t want to wait.” I smile as if he’s impetuous, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Francis proceeds with the tickets, the sign-in table, and a list of DJs. I do not know who the best is, and I’m mentally exhausted now. I’ve not been conditioned to make one hundred decisions in two hours. When Francis and her staffers leave, Federico announces that lunch is served.
Matteo joined me, and we reviewed the list of invitees.
“I don’t know. Izzy is all I have as far as family. I’d love to include Penny from work. I don’t want a huge wedding party.”
“How about my sister, Bianca, being a bridesmaid? She’ll represent my side of the family. She’ll love a shopping spree for new shoes and a dress.”
“Okay. A maid of honor and two bridesmaids. What is your sister like?”
“She’s sweet, like you. You’ll love her.”
I give him a side-eye. “I hope it won’t involve a bottle per person.”
“It will, but I’ll behave. Gio will make sure we’re safe. We’ll take a limo around the city. What would you like for your party?”
“I’m boring. A day at the spa would be nice.”
“That’s tame.” His face relaxes considerably. He’s not been himself since we learned of Chiara’s death. “It makes me happy you won’t be in clubs with men looking at what’s mine.”
“It’s about you, is it?” I tease, giving him a wink. He smiles at me. It makes me happy. He hasn’t smiled in days.
After lunch, I nap, as it will be a long evening, and Matteo disappears into his study.
At four o’clock, the crew shows up. I’m in a robe, and they paint my toenails and fingernails to look wicked. It’s a dark red that looks black but will accompany my dress and the gothic theme.
They wash and style my hair, braiding it before piling it on my head. After two hours of tugging, pulling, and gripping my chair, I look at myself in the mirror they hold before me and see the incredible updo. I look like a movie star.
I’m in awe of what these men and women can accomplish. They are worth every penny and give “glam squad” a new meaning.
Next, they help me with the underwear for the dress. My hands run down the smooth fabric, which is the softest material I’ve ever felt. I step into a new shoe brand and find it more comfortable than the name brands I’ve been wearing. I assume the shoes were made in Italy. The black leather molds to my feet, and I walk without discomfort. The gown flounces as I walk, and I can see the fabric’s sheen under the bedroom lights.
The assistant pulls out a book and gives me a choice of looks for the evening. I pick a design with gold glitter to complement the blackness of my dress. I love gold and black together.
Matteo has his tux in another room and is dressing to give me the space needed to prepare, and I am relieved he didn’t witness all that I had to go through to look regal. He might think he’s not getting the prettiest fiancée if it weren’t for the help of these experts.
My face takes a half hour, and the finishing touch is applying glitter to one side of my face and gently carrying a few for continuity to the other side of my face. My eyebrows are more dramatic to match the dark blue and black eyeshadow that tapers upward with an off-white color that makes my eyes look more prominent. The numerous shades of blue provide continuity and illuminate the blue in my eyes.
I stare into the mirror and don’t recognize myself. I’m a woman who is much prettier than I ever imagined. My skin is flawless, and the mask around my eyes tapers off to the side like a natural mask tied behind my head.
I wish I could create illusions with color, but I’m limited to furniture and accessories. Izzy, on the other hand, knows clothing and fashion. She worked on Broadway and loves to design clothing. I wonder if she’ll recognize me. We’re meeting just inside the doors at eight.
My crew leaves, and Matteo breezes in. He stops walking when his eyes take me in. I twirl on my heels. The gown moves, creating a whoosh sound as I walk.
“You’re incredible. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He walks to me, takes my hand, and kisses it like we’re in a Shakespeare play or a Medici garden party.
“You look incredible. I love the tux. I have to say your designer is incredible. The outfits are outrageous.”
“Only the best for you, Alena.”
I blush under this intense gaze. He undresses me with his eyes, and if he were to take me now, I’d be willing, but it would ruin my makeup.
