Afew hours later, I waltz into Dante’s mansion, where my goodbye party will be held. My pink dress rests in a garment bag lying on one arm while I carry a bag full of make-up with the other hand.
The expansive house is buzzing with people. Some are standing on ladders to create what looks like an intricate light design above the living room. Some are rushing between vans parked in front and the kitchen, carrying platters and cases of champagne.
Dante is among them, alive with the energy of the preparations, directing everyone the same way he does his men. With focus, attention to detail and no tolerance for mistakes.
A slow smile, a real one, spreads on my cheeks.
He turns his head and spots me, dropping what he was just saying to the waitstaff, all dressed in black and white already.
“Bella,” he greets as his arms envelop me in a familiar embrace.
“Cugino. You went overboard again.”
“Nonsense, Loulou. This is the least I can do.”
His words make me blush. Maybe there’s a small part of my cousin that feels bad about forcing me to marry a man, and it’s his way of saying he’s sorry. He doesn’t need to. He would have done the same for me.
“Where’s zia?”
Dante frowns before swallowing and clearing his throat. That’s not good. “She’s in her room.”
I nod and turn on my heels to go greet my aunt on the second floor, but his words stop me. “She’s not doing so well.” He drops his gaze down to his feet before sniffing and getting back to the staff, a forced pep to his steps.
I’m not the only one who knows how to lie.
Dread falls at the pit of my stomach, but I cover it with one of my own fake smiles, tricking my brain into happiness once more.
After I drop my dress and makeup to the bedroom I use when I’m here, I walk the short corridor toziaMariella’s bedroom. My steps are loud on the marble floor, creating a sinister marching beat. I ignore it and knock on her door.
“Who’s there?” I hear her say through the door after what seems like an hour.
“It’s Lucie, zia Mariella. Can I come in?”
She doesn’t answer. She’s been declining fast since the beginning of summer, when Dante was taken. I think not seeing her son for weeks and having this place crawling with men in tactical gear, ready to blast the entire country to find their don, didn’t help with the progression of her disease.
I step inside. My heart clenches painfully.
Aunt Mariella was once a beautiful woman, with a head of dark hair and green eyes always lined with black eyeliner. She would have never been caught without the cat eye and her signature red lipstick. And now? Now she sits at her loveseat in front of the window, still in her silk pyjamas, her face devoid of any of the enhancements she loves so much.
“Zia?”
She turns her head slowly. Her eyes narrow like she’s searching her memories. Her whole body is tense, hands gripping the edges of the seat. Then, she softens and I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. It’s always harder when she doesn’t recognise who I am.
“Hi,piccola,” she greets. “What are you doing here?”
I take a few more steps into her lavish room, full of pictures and priceless artefacts she collected on her travels around the world. “Dante is organising a party for me.”
Once again, her brow furrows before it clicks. “Oh. Of course. That’s why there are so many people milling about.” She chuckles. “Then, you can help me get ready. My old bones aren’t as flexible as they used to be, and I don’t think I can zip my dress.”
I want to ask why she’s still wearing pyjamas, if the nurse forgot to come in, but that’s the issue with Lewy Body dementia. Right now, she’s okay, but in five minutes, she won’t be.
I clench my teeth, hoping I can keep sadness at bay if I make enough of an effort.
Leaving London will be good for me. And it also won’t. I miss my family and I haven’t even left yet. The dual emotions pulling at me like I’m fighting inside my head has a headache swelling behind my eyelids.
“You can’t outshine me, zia,” I joke. “You know this is supposed to be my party.”
“Is it to find a husband?” She glances over her shoulder, a brow raised. Dante looks exactly like her when he’s being a smartass.
