He turns to face me, the corner of his lips pulling up into agrin—the kind I imagine makes some girls weak in the knees. "Quick question: which is the bride’s side?”
My heart swells. "Let’s say it’s on the left.”
"Well”—he nods—“I’ll have my friends Elise and Jax sit on the bride’s side.”
Pop goes my heart.
I’ve been givensome details about what to expect at the rehearsal dinner. Cassidy and Jasmine both helped me pick the menu, being the foodies in my circle. Bronson tried to teach me some Sicilian, though I have already forgotten it. Sir promised to meet me at the door and escort me up.
Kaya's words from earlier today echo in my mind. " The bride should make an entrance." She'd said it while the stylist pinned our hair into buns, spraying them to smooth, manicured perfection. So I'm arriving a little later than Sir and the groomsmen, with my bridesmaids—Cassidy, Shoshanna, Blesk, and Kaya—in tow.
I’ve already eaten tapas and downed a few champagnes to ‘relax’ as suggested by Cassidy, when we pull up to the grand entrance of The Main.
“Mrs Butcher,” HJ says, opening our passenger door, wearing a mask of professionalism tonight while the Family circles like sharks, eyes sharp.
What would they make of our friendship? Is it normal for a Don’s wife to have a relationship with her henchman outside of shield and protect? I shrug. I don’t really care. He ismybutler rat and that is that.
The girls exit first, their bruised peach-coloured matching dresses drifting in the air, silk caught in a soft breeze. My pretty heels hit the terrace as I step out of the white stretchlimousine. My ivory mini-dress is modest from high-neckline to the clinging upper-thigh but loses its modesty from there down like a deciduous tree. The length is daring enough to cause every eye in the valet circle to linger on my legs, which is courageous given who I belong to.
I halt. “Wait. I feel like I’ve forgotten something.” Pausing, I stand by the idling limousine. Why is my brain cloudy and stalling? Why do I feel like I’ve left the oven on?
“It’s the twins,” Shoshanna says, her amber eyes softening on my face.
I tilt my head. “What?”
“Oh, you’re right,” Cassidy agrees, bouncing her gaze between us. “You haven’t forgotten anything, Fawn. This is what happens when you spend a long time away from your babies. It’s weird, right? Like we lived our entire lives without them, but now, it feels like leaving a limb at home or something.”
My twins…
I sigh hard. “Yeah, but they’re okay.”
“They arefine,” Shoshanna confirms, drawing out the word. “Stone and Darius are with a babysitter too. It helps that we have this new dog. Bronson just randomly brought it home a few months back. The kids are obsessed with it so they will barely notice we’re gone.”
Cassidy adds, “Kelly, Mattius, and Clara are with my parents for the night. It feels weird the first few times, but it’s normal. You are more than a mum; you’re also Fawn.”
I shrug. “Right.”
Before me, the hotel literally sparkles against the sun’s descent over the city. The final rays of day create the illusion of gold and gemstones within the steep walls.
"Woah," I gasp.
My eyes widen at the convoy of vehicles—black tinted windows so dark they swallow light, with chrome details catching the sun like knives. Men emerge in tailored suits; shoulders squared beneath fabric that moves like liquid. Women glide out in old-money dresses, air whispering against bare legs. Diamond earrings, gold chains and rings, catch light in violent flashes. Power has a rippling effect, an energy, I swear it. It moves the air, shifts it to warn and threaten. The atmosphere vibrates with this tangible authority, like the skies before a lightning storm.
These strangers—soon to be family?—barely note their surroundings, all educated in practised indifference. Behind them, looming men with earpieces, hands hovering near concealed weapons, two-way radios creating static as they communicate across distances.
Butterflies swoop in my stomach. They used to be constant companions. My friendly winged insects are back tonight in force.
“That”—Cassidy, with her plaster of freckles and clinging innocence, looks almost as overwhelmed as I do— “is theCosa Nostra, Fawn. I never get used to these events.”
A little deer walks into the wolves’ den, I think to myself. Lucky for me, this fawn has sharpened her teeth on concrete. And close behind me, HJ moves with residual stiffness in his legs, but otherwise still commands the area.
I’m gazing up at the impressive space when the front doors before me swing open to reveal a tall, dark, and dangerous six-foot-five devil in a navy three-piece suit. The suit that I paid for with my shiny black credit card.
Heat pools between my legs when his eyes clash with mine before dragging the length of my body, catching on my exposed upper thighs. His jaw muscles pulse so hard I almost hear his teeth grind.
I blush, rolling my shoulder to hide one pinkening cheek. “Nice suit, Sir. Someone has excellent taste.”
“A little deer.” He pulls me into his chest, his lips lowering to my ear. “Veryprettythighs, sweet girl. I will need them wrapped around my face before the night is through.”
