Page 28 of Hot-Blooded Killer

My friends both lean in, each giving me an air-kiss on the cheek, careful not to smudge my makeup or leave lipstick prints.

Gotta keep the façade intact, I think, my mental voice turning sardonic.

Mama turns to me, staring at me for a long moment with her blue eyes, the color accentuated by the navy dress she wears. “You don’t have to do this,” she finally says. “I don’t care what your father has told you. You can walk away now. I’ll make sure there aren’t any repercussions.”

I gape at her, unable to think of a response. Never in my life have I ever seen my mother defy Pop.

“I mean it, sweetheart. I want you to be happy. And if Lorenzo Beneventi is the man who can give you that, then I won’t stand in your way.” She pauses for a long moment, glancing down at her shoes, as if they can somehow hand her the words she’s looking for. Finally, she glances back up, her gaze turning pleading. “If you love him, I will welcome him into this family with open arms. But if you’re marrying him for any other reason, please don’t go through with this.”

This time, I’m the one staring at my shoes for inspiration.

They don’t offer any, despite being Giambattista Vallis.

“I want to do this, Mama.”

Maybe not for the reasons she listed, but I do want to do it. Pop’s plan is a good one, and it will increase our family’s fortunes—fortunes that I’ll be in control of someday.

Not to mention it will lead to my complete freedom from any further marital obligations to anyone but myself.

Mama heaves a sigh, but she nods. Then she carefully takes my face between her hands and kisses my forehead. Her hair, still a beautiful blond with only the barest hint of gray, waves around my face, and I inhale her scent. Even as an adult, I find her touch and smell comforting.

Then she’s gone, and I’m alone in the bride’s room for a few moments.

And for the first time since we put this plan into motion, a deep sense of foreboding comes over me.

Mom and Adele are both right. This is my last chance to back out.

What if what I’m doing is wrong? Am I really willing to tie myself to a Beneventi for the rest of my life?

All the reasons I shouldn’t marry Lorenzo cascade through my mind, sending out a flood of anxiety.

I barely know him. He doesn’t have the kind of power that my family commands. I still don’t completely understand why he fought so hard for this match.

After all, his family nearly ruined mine when I was a child.

But the answer I gave Mama and Adele still stands.

I agreed to this.

Besides, I’ve spent the last month and a half working so hard to convince everyone that Lorenzo and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other that I’ve half convinced myself.

The memory of the way he touches me slides through me again, and I shiver.

If that kiss was indicative of anything, my wedding night is going to be something to remember.

I don’t want to admit it even to myself, but the anticipation for our first night together is at least half of what propels me out the bridal suite door when the wedding coordinator comes to tell me it’s time.

Pop would never forgive me if I backed out now, if only because he was footing the bulk of the bill for this enormous party.

With a grim smile, I inhale deeply, count to five, then blow it out again.

Here goes nothing.

* * *

I had initially wantedto hold the ceremony at the Historic St. Joan of Arc Catholic Church just off the Strip, but in the end, it had been too small to accommodate our overflowing guest list.

Besides, the parish priest had been a bit too exacting in his insistence that Lorenzo and I undergo the Catholic marriage preparations, which would have taken six months, and neither Lorenzo nor I were willing to wait that long.

---