Page 11 of Claimed by my Stepbrother

A smile covers my face as I pluck the card out of the envelope. With the exception of the bouquet my mother bought me for high school graduation, I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone before. The card reads, “Join me tonight for the Italian Cultural Society Gala.”

My joy over the thoughtful flowers quickly morphs into a state of panic. I’m not exactly sure what this gala is, but I’m positive I have nothing to wear. The dress I wore to dinner last night is the nicest one I have. I should go find Giovanni and tell him, but before I make a move, Vito steps into the kitchen.

“Are you ready to go, Ms. Gabrielle?”

“Go? Go where?”

“Don Gallucci has made appointments for you. The stylist is waiting at the salon. Shall we go?”

Stylist? Appointments? Why didn’t he say anything about this last night? A little time to absorb all of this would have been appreciated.

“Miss, can we go?” Vito taps his fingers on the counter, letting me know it’s not so much a question as an order.

I follow Vito to the driveway where Arturo, the driver, is waiting. I assumed Vito was driving me since he was the one who came to get me. When I get into the backseat, Vito hops in the front. I don’t quite know what to make of it, but I don’t think it’s my place to question it, either. It’s like one of those movies where bodyguards escort their young mistresses. Huh. I feel spoiled. I like it.

It’s a short trip to the center of the village, and Arturo pulls the car over in front of a hair salon. He speaks to Vito in Italian then turns to me and says, “I’ll be back here in three hours.”

Vito exits the car and opens my door for me. He escorts me into the hair salon where the most stylish woman I’ve ever seen rushes over to greet us. She’s a foot taller than me, with a curvy figure and silky black hair. Her makeup is done perfectly, and she’s wearing a black pantsuit with a lime green blouse and high-heeled leather boots.

“You must be Gabby. I’m Maricella.” She kisses both of my cheeks and pulls away to appraise me. “So beautiful. Getting you ready for the gala is going to be easy.”

“Vito says you’re a stylist. How do you know Giovanni?” I ask her.

I don’t like the way she smirks before telling me, “Don Gallucci and I travel in the same circles.”

For the next two and a half hours, I’m treated to a manicure, pedicure, body waxing, haircut, and makeover. All the while, Vito sits in the lobby reading a magazine. Next, we walk to the boutique across the street where Maricella tells the sales girl what colors, styles, and sizes of dresses to bring forward for me to try on.

I am not impressed with the first two, and it seems Marcella agrees, but the third dress has me spinning in circles in front of the mirror. The long, burgundy gown is form-fitting with a slit up the side. It’s strapless but has a white tuft of silk that comes up from my chest and ties around my neck. It’s a modern take on a classic piece that reminds me of something Sofia Loren would have worn in the nineteen-sixties. My mother used to gush about her like they’re actual friends.

“I think this is the one,” Marcella says.

I nod my head and smile, “I think so, too.”

“Alright, go take it off so they can wrap it up. Oh, and of course the shoes, too.”

The matching burgundy heels are the highest I’ve ever worn. Any higher and I might not be able to keep my balance in them.

When I return from the dressing room, I see Vito loading my dress in the car. I look for Marcella so I can thank her, but she’s nowhere to be found. I guess once her work was done, she was on her way.

I can’t wait for Giovanni to see me in this dress. I bet it will make his eyes fall out of their sockets. I spend most of the ride home dreaming about this gala. Right now, I feel like a movie star. We pull up the drive and I see Giovanni standing outside with his cell phone up to his ear. I can’t wait to thank him for this day, but I also want to ask him why I needed Vito to chaperone me.

He sees us pull up and puts his phone in his jacket pocket. Arturo helps me out of the car as Vito carries my bags up to my room.

“How was your day, Princess?”

“It was amazing. Thank you for all of it and also for the flowers.”

He kisses me and says, “Of course, sweetheart.”

“When I saw the note, I was terrified. I knew I didn’t have anything to wear, but I never would have expected anything like this. I just wanted to ask you why Vito came along.”

“As I told you last night, you’ve exposed yourself. If I can’t come with you, someone else will need to watch over you when you leave the compound. If you aren’t comfortable with Vito, I’ll find someone else.”

“No, I don’t have an issue with Vito.”

“Good. He’s my most capable man.”

He pulls me into his arms and playfully nips my earlobe. “I still have some work to do, but there’s lunch in the kitchen for you. Help yourself. We’ll be leaving for the gala at six. Make sure you’re dressed, Princess.”

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