His head dipped slightly, just enough to acknowledge he’d heard us.
Ellie stared into the shadows. “If only I’d met you first,” she told Loppa.
“I would not leave my wife.”
“My poor broken heart.” She fake-sobbed.
I caught my giggle just in time. Ellie was too dramatic. The gold ring on his finger was practically embedded there with age. “Stop flirting.”
“Never.” Her smile faded too quickly.
“You could stay.” I tried to keep the longing note out of my voice. And I didn’t want it to sound like a question.
“I’d rather gouge my heart out with a spoon. No thanks.”
Beyond Loppa was another shadow. Ringo lurked there. Far enough away that Ellie couldn’t touch him, or take a swipe at him if she got too angry, and too close to let my sister breathe.
I hugged her.
“I’m only going to ask that you come back in time for the celebration. I need a maid of honor to put on display.”
“You’re going to make me wear pink, aren’t you?”
I shook my head. She’d look washed out in pink.
“Little flowers on a creamy beach dress that is too virginal for words?”
Damn it. Yes. “Naw.” I could picture her face once I sprung it on her, though.
Ellie tipped her head. “Any color, as long as it’s black…or bright red. Understand?”
I waited for her to get nervous.
“You’re not putting me in pastel.”
Technically, it wasn’t pastel. More… “airy” than that.
Her eyes rolled. “Allie…” It was as if she could read my mind.
Which meant I had to set her straight. “You dressed me in nude brothel wear.”
“Hell yeah. I’ll wear that.”
I cleared my throat reminding her she had no choice. “It’s my wedding party this time.” Besides, Mario’s bloodstain was set into the fabric by this point. She’d faint if she saw that.
“Right.” She grinned with teeth showing to prove to me she was trying, but wasn’t on board with my vision. After a moment, it fell. “Okay. I’ll be there. Unless of course some hot foreigner kidnaps me and forces me to fly away with him on his private jet.” Her hand flew to her forehead dramatically. “Death by sex, how traumatic.”
A voice from the far shadows muttered, “That can be arranged.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ringo! No one asked you.”
I kissed her quickly, because I didn’t want those two arguing again. “Firenze is waiting.” I glanced at the dark SUV in the circle driveway. Her chauffeur-slash-bodyguard waited beside it.
Only two suitcases were in the trunk. She’d bequeathed the lingerie to me.
She hugged me tighter. “I love you, big sis. Be deliriously happy.”
“I plan on it.” I’d be happier if she were that way, too. But until she got over Ringo, that was not a possibility.
