Page 38 of Till Death Do Us Part

“Are you telling me I smell, Margo?” I wrinkle my nose playfully. She shakes her head, patting me on the shoulder. “I’m heading up there now. Though, is hair and make-up really that necessary for a house party?”

“I don’t make the rules, dear. I just book what I’m told to book. Anyway, it’s always fun to get pampered, isn’t it? And let’s be honest, this isn’t a house, and the Halloween party certainly isn’t just a house party. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I agree with a shrug, not caring much for it either way. “I best get my smelly self in the shower, then.”

With a wink, I turn towards the stairs and rush off, chuckling as she shouts after me in indignation. Missing the last step, I go flying towards the floor before an arm bands around my waist, pulling me back into a muscled chest.

“Leonardo is right,” Antonio murmurs behind me. “You are a clumsy little thing, aren’t you, wife?”

My muscles go taut at his closeness, my heart racing when he presses his palm against my flat stomach. Even with the oversized hoodie I’m wearing, the weight of him touching me makes my skin crawl.

“May I go? I need to get ready?” I breathe out, keeping my voice calm despite my growing nerves. He pats my stomach once, then twice, before blowing out a disappointed breath. With a hand to my back, he pushes me up the remaining step with a muttered, “Go.”

I rush to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me, and pressing my back against the door. My shoulders deflate as tears well in my eyes. I thought I was doing okay. I’d convinced myself I could handle him. But I can’t. And I don’t know how to deal with that truth.

He’s my husband, it’s my job to give him children.

To let him use me however he sees fit.

However, after experiencing what I did with Leonardo, I know it’s not so simple anymore. I can’t close my eyes and pretend what he’s doing is okay just because he’s my husband. I can’t lie to myself anymore.

“Damn, girl.” Felicity whistles when she walks into my bedroom several hours later with two glasses in her hand.

“You’re one to talk,” I tell her, running my eyes over the little red mini dress she’s wearing. The satin material falls into a deep V on her chest and stops mid-thigh, showing off an expanse of her pale legs. The white devil horns blend into her blonde hair, almost looking real if it weren’t for the plastic shine. “I’d kill for your curves in that dress.”

“I do look good, huh?” She laughs, dropping the items onto my vanity before fluffing her curled hair. My hair falls into loose curls down my back, the top half tied up around the metal cat ears to make it look like the ears are a part of my head.

The dark smoky eyes and winged-out liner do wonders for my brown eyes, making the dullness pop into something shiny. Paired with the leather outfit, I look pretty hot, if I say so myself.

Felicity hands me a glass filled halfway with vodka and nothing else. I shake my head at her, but she only rolls her eyes before pinching her nose and tipping her own glass to the back of her throat. Following her lead, I lift the glass to my mouth, pouring the liquid straight down.

The burn is welcome, heating my chest with a warm flush. Felicity gags, swallowing harshly to keep the liquid down while I set my glass on the vanity.

“Right, we have about an hour and a half before the others come, so let’s hide out in the kitchen until then. We’ll turn the speakers up and warm up our feet before the real fun starts,” Felicity says, wagging her eyebrows at me.

“Okay, but when I’m sick later, will you hold my hair back?”

“Please, you’ll be holding mine,” she tells me, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the door. “Though, maybe no dead bodies this time.”

“Felicity, this is a party in a mansion full of Mafia men. I’m pretty sure dead bodies are to be expected.” She freezes, her eyes widening for a moment before she shakes her head and grabs my hand. It looks like my friend might finally be coming to terms with the life she grew up around.

My hips move to the beat of the music filling the ballroom. Though I’m not sure that’s an appropriate name for the room. This party is definitely not a ball; unless a ball consists of drunken men in funny costumes waving guns around, bags of cocaine split open on tables, and a dancefloor full of women and men getting their grind on.

Margo was wrong with her earlier assessment that this party isn’t a house party. It’s everything I would ever expect of a house party, just on a much grander scale.

Booze, drugs, and debauchery.

A standard weekend for most kids back home growing up—and here—if the shows I watched on television were right.

Felicity bounces on her heels beside me, her eyes glazed over as she lifts a key to her nose and sniffs generously at the white powder sitting on the brass. She offers it to me, holding a bag in her other. I shake my head, sticking to my cocktail instead. I only just tried weed for the first time when we went out, I’m not sure testing the harder stuff is really something I’m interested in.

“This is fun, right?” she shouts over the loud music, flinging her arms above her head and swaying in time with the music. Nodding, I finish my drink, letting the plastic cup hang limply at my side while I join her again in moving across the floor.

A couple of men dance around us, though, thankfully none come within touching distance. The perks of my husband being around here somewhere, I guess. Not that I’ve seen Antonio since earlier on the staircase. He’s back to keeping his distance from me, and I’m more than happy for it to stay that way.

I’m going to grab a drink, I mouth to Felicity. When she nods, I make my way out of the bodies, swiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. This many bodies packed together on a dancefloor does little to help with staying cool in an all-leather outfit.

When I reach the bar, I grab the first bottle of vodka I see, pouring a generous amount into the cup, before turning and leaning against the wall to watch the crowd for a moment and cool down.

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