Page 6 of Devious Vows

God, I don’t want him to see me in this dress.

Tonight will go one of two ways: he’ll either love the dress or he’ll hate it. And I honestly couldn’t say which I’d prefer because either one means his attention is on me.

It takes far less time than I would have preferred to get to the Luciano estate, and I resist the urge to bang my forehead against the window as we pull through the large black iron gates. My stomach is already churning, heart thumping madly beneath my ribs at the thought of being here, let alone in this dress. Julian lightly pinches my arm and I whack at his hand, absently looking out the window at the other guests exiting their cars.

My fingers lightly tremble as I open my door, Julian and I slapping them shut in unison to look at one another over the top of the car before we start toward the back half of the estate toward the gardens.

“I thought you didn’t care what people thought of you?” Julian asks when he gets to my side.

“I don’t,” I bite out, rubbing my glossy lips together. It’s not a complete lie. I don’t really care what people think.

I care what Remy thinks.

But only because I’d rather he thought nothing of me at all. If I had my way, the douche wouldn’t exist in my life.

My eyes briefly find my brother’s annoying smirk. “I care about what I think.” I finish, “And I think I look like an idiot.”

He laughs, holding the back gate open for me, “Well, why don’t you change what you think?” He comes back to my side, arm lightly bumping mine as we walk. “If you tell yourself you like it, then you won’t be as miserable.”

Scanning the crowd, I notice I’m not the only one dressed formally, though I am the only one who looks like they belong onDesperate Housewives. Turning my attention back to him I snort, “Easy for you to have a solution when you’re not the one looking like an idiot.”

He laughs, grabbing a drink from one of the waiter’s trays as we walk by, downing whatever it is with a grimace before dropping the empty glass on another passing tray. I eye one of the giant banners strung around the property, pictures of ugly little dogs with beady eyes plastered on each one, a giant poster in the middle of the space featuring Mama Spinoza. Tonight’s event is Mama Spinoza’s silent auction dog charity, and although I hate my attire this year, it’s usually one of my favorite events simply because of how ridiculous it is.

Mama Spinoza, known for her vanity, lost her husband a while ago and now spends her time and money lavishing herself and her dogs. She also has a blaringly obvious crush on the one and only Remy Luciano.

Something I find incredibly hilarious.

Turning to question Julian, I watch him grab two glasses from another passing tray before handing one off to me. “Why is the auction here?”

He shrugs, raising his glass up. “Don’t know. This one looks better than the last one.”

Throwing the drink back at the same time he does, I shudder as it burns down to my gut, and drop off the glass at an empty table. The perks of being a Mafioso child is the leniency when it comes to drinking. There’s always a party or some gathering, always drinking, and never a caring adult as long as you don’t make a fool of yourself. “Was that better? Because it tasted like shit.”

Julian shakes his head and I laugh, grabbing a chair from the nearest table to us to drag behind me. My brother does the same and we make our way to the outskirts of the gathering.Andrea, son of another Capo who works closely with the CapoFamiglia, must have had the same idea as us because he nods in acknowledgment as we set our seats by his.

His eyes flick over my dress before meeting my scowl as I sit down. “What the hell are you wearing, Bev?”

“Clothes. Shouldn’t you be old enough to figure that out on your own?” I tug my skirt down a bit, as he shakes his head at me, a dark loose strand of hair curling around his ears.

Besides his arms crossing over his chest and his baby blues rolling away from me, he doesn’t respond. The same age as Remy, he gives off the ‘I’m too cool for you’ vibes, but it’s mostly just an act. We’ve known him our entire lives and despite how he likes to act tough, he’s actually a big softy. I consider him to be more of a brother than a close friend, and even though he’d never admit it, I know the feeling is mutual.

Julian bends to rest his arms on his knees so he can see around me to Andrea. “Where’s Remy?”

My brother has become even more obsessed with the future boss since taking his oath of omertàa few months back, and to say I find it an annoyance is awildunderstatement.

Remy has slowly started to take over every aspect of my life, my brother now included.

“Who cares?” I mumble but they both ignore me. I know it’s just a matter of time before Remy finds me, and I’d like to enjoy my freedom while I can. After ten minutes too long of hearing nothing but pointless babbling from my companions, I get up, tugging my dress back into place. “Welp. Not that listening to you two gaggle on about the almighty Remy isn’t extremely interesting, but I’m going to find something else to do before I puke.”

Andrea rolls his eyes at my parting curtsy, and I spin toward the direction of the auction tables, flipping the bird over my shoulder as Julian yells about “keeping my nipples contained.” I could only ever speak so freely about my feelings toward Remy with them; if any of the adults heard me being so disrespectful I’d be hung for it, I’m sure. Still, I do it anyway because part of me doesn’t give a damn.

Picking up a stray pen, I start randomly writing names with outrageous bids, when Gavino’s smiling face pops into view. “Hey, Bev.”

Returning his smile I straighten, clicking my pen. “Oh hi, Gavino. How have you been?”

It would seem that both of Remy’s siblings missed out on the same bitter gene that he was born with because they, unlike him, are both kind and friendly. Gavino is only Remy’s half-brother, a bastard child from the Famiglia Capo that was born a year before Remy. For the most part, he only spends the summer with the Lucianos, but every once in a while I see him at other holiday events. I actually like Gavino quite a bit, he’s always been nice to me. He’s also always been cast in Remy’s shadow, always looked down on by the other Mafioso boys because he preferred warehouse jobs over working the streets. Really, he should be the future Capo Famiglia, but because he isn’t legitimate it was never even an option.

“I’ve been good. I’m back for now,” he says, leaning over to see what I’m writing. He chuckles seeing me go back to scrawling names that clearly don’t belong to me. “What are you doing?”

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