Dante and I have forged a friendship over the years that’s deeper than blood. We’re closer than any brothers couldever be. Both bound not only by our oath to the Vescari family but tied by blood and our experiences. Those experiences have made us what we are today.
Tonight though, Evangeline is dressed as Glinda the Good Witch, and someone please close Dante’s gaping mouth, because she looks enchanting.
Her gown is a sweeping confection of pale pinks and crystals, the kind of costume that should look absurd anywhere other than on a Broadway stage, but on her tiny frame, it works. The crown glitters under the chandelier in the entryway, and her wand sparkles when she lifts it with a wicked grin.
“Boys,” she teases, pausing halfway down the stairs, and waving her wand, “are you really going to a party with Glinda looking so grumpy?”
Dante's frozen. The Evil One himself is struck dumb. The man has always been stoic, but with Evangeline and me, he’s usually more vocal, more animated. More of a smartass in my case.
His eyes devour her, and his silence saysmore than words.
I whistle low. “Sweetheart, if you show up like this, nobody’s gonna remember that it’s a fundraiser, much less know who it’s for.”
Her laughter bubbles, light and teasing. She’s gotten comfortable with our lifestyle. She’s comfortable with the monster she calls husband and with me as the devil’s second shadow.
Dante finally speaks, voice low and possessive. “A good witch shouldn’t look that sinful, bella.”
She just winks at him, and I almost gag. If I have to watch them make out one more time, I might throw myself down the stairs.
“What? You couldn’t convince him to be a flying monkey?” I mock, pointing to Dante.
“Glinda didn’t have flying monkeys,” she points out. “And he absolutely refused to be a munchkin.”
We both laugh at that image because that’s preposterous. The man is as tall and wide as a fucking house. Nothing about him screams munchkin.
“Hey, the hat means he went all out. You should be proud of him,” I say as we make our way out the door.I walk in front of them and scan the perimeter out of habit. Dante’s home outside the city is basically a fortress, but as his underboss, I will always protect him and those he loves. This includes Evangeline now.
Which is why when the limo door opens, I hang back. “I’ll ride with the detail,” I mutter. “So, you two can…,” I swirl my hand in a circle, “do whatever it is you two do on the way.”
Swear to God, I wouldn’t put it past him to whip his dick out just to prove he can. She’s so in love with the man, I’m betting she’d get down on her knees in the limo if he asked.
And I don’t want to know whether he’ll ask. Some things you can’t unsee, and that would be one of them.
The smug look Dante gives me confirms my suspicions. Yeah, they’re definitely going to ruin the leather seats.
The fundraiser is everything I’ve grown to hate. The cameras, the fake smiles, hands to shake, the peoplepretending they don’t know exactly what kind of man Dante is.
Dante and I agree that it’s useful to know these people. It’s beneficial to donate to their causes so they can repay him down the road.
Quid pro quo.
So tonight, Dante plays his role and has Evangeline on his arm like the crown jewel she is. They glide down the red carpet, with reporters shouting and light bulbs flashing from the cameras.
They are the city’s current golden couple.
Slipping away as soon as I can, I aim straight for the bar. Politics and bullshit are easier to swallow with liquor, preferably whiskey.
That’s when I see her.
Not Evangeline, no, she’s across the room. I know because I’m keeping my eyes on her. Dante has stepped away, and she’s laughing with some wives of men who would doubtless sell their souls for her husband’s money but then plunge a knife in his back if given the opportunity.
No, it’s the woman who is approaching Evangeline I’ve clocked.
From her gown to the dusting of green shimmering powder painted across her face and any visible skin, she is the Wicked Witch in the flesh.
Unlike most of the women here tonight, she’s not dressed to be sexy. The small woman is wearing a simple conservative black dress, covering her from neck to toe, with a tall pointed black hat. I can see from here that her eyes shine as bright as emeralds under her long, dark lashes.
This woman looks ridiculous. And she looks magnificent.
