Page 74 of Christmas with the Mafia
It shouldn’t bother me—but it does. It’s not even the serious wealth that he has. It’s him. No man has ever treated me like a queen before, and it’s seriously addictive. Then there’s the mind-blowing sex that reminds me I’m now a super-hussy. Since when did I allow my standards to slip so quickly?
Since I met him.
I’m so far inside my own head that when a husky whisper disturbs my pondering, I almost jump out of my skin.
“Can we talk?”
I blink as Desiree’s pinched face hovers into view and my heart sinks.
Sophia is chatting to Katrina as they drift into the library for eggnog, and as I really can’t stand the stuff, it’s a toss-up between the two evils.
“Of course.” I fix a false smile on my face, and she doesn’t even attempt to pretend. It’s obvious she hates me already for no other reason than I’m apparently engaged to the man she considered was hers.
“We can talk in here.”
She points to the music room, and as we slip inside, she closes the door behind her, causing my heart to thump at the malice on her face.
“Why are you here?”
She doesn’t make polite conversation, and I match her energy with a shrug.
“Nico invited me.”
“My fiancé.” She snaps, causing me to sigh inwardly.
“Perhaps you should tell him that and not me.”
I wander over to the piano, remembering how beautifully Sophia played it, and wish like crazy this woman hadn’t arrived to burst my bubble.
“Do you really think you can handle Nico?”
Desiree’s acid voice cuts through the serene air in the room, and I turn, facing her with bravado that really isn’t what I’m experiencing inside.
“Of course.” I raise my eyes. “He’s a sweetheart.”
Her eyes almost disappear into her hairline.
“If you believe that, then you’re more delusional than I imagined.”
“Delusional?”
“Yes. I mean, you’ve known him for about five minutes, and I’m guessing that’s because this is a fake arrangement.”
My nerves tingle, and I battle hard to keep my cool.
She knows!
“I can assure you it’s not.”
I wait to be struck down by God for lying on Christmas Eve, the holy celebration of his son’s birth, but luckily I am spared for now.
“It’s a little convenient though, isn’t it? I saw the photographs online from the gala. You were strangers then.”
“Pictures! Where?”
I’m surprised, and she rolls her eyes. “The internet, stupid. Nico can’t breathe without it being photographed and put out for everyone to analyze how the devil can breathe like a mere mortal.”
“The devil?” I laugh out loud. “It’s obvious you’re mistaking him for somebody else. I mean, devils don’t raise millions for charity in one evening, and quite frankly, I have never met such a gentleman in my life.”
