“Like a wife,” I growl. “Someone believable who understands I won’t be able to give them the emotional depth and attention they’re seeking, and is fine with that because they know I’ll spoil them otherwise. Someone who would also be willing to sign a prenup, and divorce me in a few years, since they know I’ll pay a hefty alimony.”
“You’re really serious?” Aidan looks at me with his mouth open.
“I am. I will do anything to protect this family from any additional tragedy.”
13
ZAHRA
If women had invented heels, they would have found a way to make them significantly more comfortable to wear. Though I absolutely adore the nude red-bottom pumps, I know my feet will be killing me at the end of this night. A small price to pay for the message I’m going to send. Plus, they go perfectly with the tight silk maroon dress hugging my frame. My back is fully exposed, and the deep V at the front of my dress reveals most of my sternum. Everyone’s eyes would be on me tonight, regardless of what I was wearing, so I decided to give them another reason to be the topic of conversation.
Hopefully, the bold dress and my schooled expression of indifference would mask my inner turmoil. I knew the day would come where I would have to leave the safe sanctity of my estate and announce my claim to my father’s empire in front of all his supporters, but I had always imagined he would be by my side when it happened. A passing of the torch. Now, it feels like I’m heading out to be fed to the wolves. Frankly, if tonight doesn’t end well, that’s exactly what will happen.
Checking my makeup in the mirror, I curse my father for coming up with the idea of the annual charity gala. On the surface, it doesn’t make sense why so many different mafia bosses, politicians, and socialites were willing to come together and participate in an overpriced dinner held in a stuffy hotel banquet hall. At its core, it’s a clear message of how much power the made families had on local and state politics. So much so that if my father invited them to a dinner he was hosting, they would do any and everything to ensure they would be there or risk facing his retaliation.
There’s also the fact that both Declan and I will be giving a speech tonight to demonstrate our united front. Which meant I have to ensure I don’t get lost in his aura. I need to be viewed as boss, and not as the woman by his side. The older generation of mob bosses will likely have reactions similar to his Uncle Lorkan when they hear I am taking over the Persian Empire. I have no doubts they’re already writing off the public lunch we had together. As much as I hate it, I need their respect. Without it, the bloodshed aimed at us will never end. Declan’s proximity also means I need to have my guards up. I won’t put it past him to make another attempt on my life tonight.
“Damn, Z. The attendees are already going to be speechless once they process who you are. With this dress, you may just give them a heart attack too,” Samirah, my stylist and one of my closest friends, compliments as she comes up behind me.
“Well, if this dress doesn’t kill them, I have something else that will,” I tease, moving aside the slit of my dress to reveal the small revolver attached to my stockings.
She stands next to me, looking at me through the full-length mirror in front of us. “It’s a charity gala for Christ’s sake. Are you sure you need that?”
“A charity gala filled with men who kill peoplejust for looking at them wrong. Stepping foot inside that hotel without some sort of protection is a mistake I cannot afford. Why do you think I insisted on adding a garter and stockings to this dress?” I ask.
“Honestly, I was hoping you had a secret lover you wanted to impress. Someone you can use to get all that tension and stress you’ve been harboring for as long as I’ve known you. That’s why I added the bows and made sure the stockings were extra easy to unclip.”
Heat comes over my body. “Samirah!”
“Don’t worry, I used the strongest silk I could get my hands on to make those, so your little gun is perfectly safe and secure. But if you decide to fraternize in the coat closet with some mysterious, and jacked, gentleman?—”
“There will be no fraternizing—” I try to interject with no avail.
“—then I’m sure whatever man gets his hands on you won’t be able to resist how good you look both in and out of this dress.” A smug look forms on her face as she takes in my irritation.
“If a man gets too close to me tonight, the only thing his hands will feel is the barrel end of my revolver,” I deadpan.
Samirah tsks. “You never let me have any fun. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you when you’re so serious?”
“You’re not. May I remind you that you’re the famous fashion designer who gets to travel around the world, while I’m now a mob boss who has to calculate her every move to avoid sudden death or the ruin of a decades-long legacy?”
“And here I thought being a mob boss would be dangerous, sexy, and fun. What a drag.”
“Dangerous, definitely. Sexy and fun. Definitely not. Or at least not the way I do it.” I shrug, grabbingmy jewelry box and pulling out the familiar gold necklace passed down through my family for generations. In size, it would no doubt pale compared to the massive diamond necklaces I would see tonight, but I didn’t care about the monetary value of the piece of jewelry on my neck. To me, it was priceless. A simple gold chain that held a Farvahar pendant, a winged figure with a human head, represented centuries of Iranian culture and heritage. Many interpretations of this symbol have been made by historians over the years, but when my father gifted me this necklace as a child, he made his intentions very clear.May this necklace protect you in this life, my daughter. Every time you wear it, know that I am here with you. Know that your heart will always guide you to the truth and what is right.If only it were that simple.
Samirah brings me back to reality, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Well, I’m going to manifest that you won’t have to use anything but your sharp wit and lethal smile tonight.”
“Knock on wood.” I give her a terse smile before beating my knuckles on my jewelry box. The superstitious gene is definitely one my mother passed down to me. My heart twinges at the thought of her. The first person I lost. Where my father’s death was violent, my mother’s was mundane — a heart attack at a young age. It was something I still struggled to wrap my head around, how one of the strongest people I knew, someone who had inspired me to never dim my own light, could be taken from me in an instant.
Samirah takes one final look at me, dusting off the dress and picking at any minuscule remains of imperfection as Arman enters. “We need to get going, Boss.”
Samirah’s back stiffens, her tone clipped. “She’ll go when I say she can go.”
Arman groans. “She looks fine, enough with the fussing. We’re goingto be late.”
“She can’t be late to her own event. Nothing starts until she arrives.” Samirah brings a tissue to my lips and dabs them lightly before stepping away. “Perfect.”
I take a deep breath and release it before walking toward Arman. “We’re still entering through the back right?” We wanted to avoid the crowd until after my speech. It not only minimized the security risk of being out in the open Boston streets, but symbolized my power. A boss who can get in and out of a building swarming with enemies and allies alike without anyone the wiser is a boss worthy of fear.
