Page 176 of Savage Hearts
When she sees the tears gathering in my eyes, she takes pity on me. She sits up straighter and says haughtily, “Everyone would think I’m a dick if I didn’t.”
Trying to hide how overwhelmed I am, I say, “Everyone already does think you’re a dick.”
Her smile is self-indulgent. “Don’t be ridiculous. Everybody loves me.”
I fall flat onto the mattress and pull the covers over my face again. Only this time, I’m laughing.
I keep forgetting that this is Sloane’s world. The rest of us mere mortals are just living in it.
I get fitted for the dress. It’s long, silk, sleeveless, and hugs my body like a glove.
It’s also black, so it can double as funeral attire when the wedding with warring Irish and Russian gangsters in attendance hits the inevitable bumps and the bullets start flying.
I’m trying to be optimistic, but seriously. This seems like a bigger mistake than the twelve publishing houses made that turned down J. K. Rowling beforeHarry Potterwas finally published.
The day of the wedding, what seems like five hundred Irish gangsters in tuxedos show up at the house.
Spider’s there, too. He looks great in a tux. He also won’t look at me, which hurts but might be for the best.
I help Sloane into her dress, an insanely gorgeous floor-lengthchiffon gown with a plunging neckline that shows off her cleavage. It also has a split in the front of the billowing skirt that shows off her legs when she walks.
It’s not white, because this is my sister we’re talking about.
Every bride wears white.
Sloane’s dress is vivid, bold, blood red.
Dripping in diamonds, with her hair cascading down her back and a real freaking tiara on her head, she looks like a goddess. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
When I tell her that, she smiles. “Right? Declan is so lucky. He doesn’t deserve me.”
I say drily, “If zombies ever take over, you’ll be safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“They only eat brains.”
We ride together in a limo to the church. We’re surrounded front, back, and sides by black Escalades filled with heavily armed gangsters in tuxedos, who Sloane keeps waving at like she’s the queen of England in a Christmas parade.
When we get to the beautiful old stone church, I’m shocked to see the front steps swarming with people.
Looking out the window of the limo as we drive into the parking lot, I say, “Um. Sloane?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“Why are there four thousand people here?”
“Because this is Boston, and the head of the Irish Mob is getting married. It’s an important event. People are here from all over the country, plus overseas.”
I turn to her, goggle-eyed. “I thought you said you were planning a small ceremony?”
“I was.” She gestures smugly to her diamonds and dress. “But then all this glory would’ve been wasted.”
“Do you know all those people?”
“No. They’re mostly Declan’s work friends.”
“Hisworkfriends? You mean those are all gangsters?”
