Round one to my feisty Firefly. I slide my arm around her shoulders, tucking her into my side while I smother my amused grin.
Saskia scowls, and it’s remarkable how fast her tears have dried and her lips have stopped trembling. “Don’t be such a bitch! My husband is dead! And you’re not married to Ben yet.”
“Our wedding day can’t get here soon enough as far as I’m concerned,” I say because she seems to have trouble absorbing the truth.
“Saskia.” Joseph Lawson’s voice rings out loud and clear, the warning obvious.
“Sweetheart.” Georgia circles her arm around Saskia. “We should take our seats. The ceremony is about to begin.”
Saskia nods, sobbing as she resumes the mourning widow mask, allowing her mother to guide her inside.
“Bennett. Good of you to come,” Lawson says, looking behind me. “Is there anyone else from New York here with you?”
You have got to be kidding me. Did he really expect the other New York bosses to attend when there are Russians running rings around The Outfit right now? If Thomas Barretta, the current consigliere, had been murdered, rules would have dictated they attend, but we are talking about his successor, and it doesn’t warrant more than representation.
“It’s just me. I trust that is sufficient.” I’m careful not to say too much until I have fully explained things to Sierra. As it is, she is watching our interaction with a curious frown.
His lips pull into a tight line. He does not like that. Who the fuck does he think he is?
“We should go in,” he says, puffing out his chest. “After you.”
The funeral is the usual solemn affair, and we go through the motions.
Saskia puts on an Oscar-worthy performance at the graveside, sobbing and crying as she clings to Thomas Barretta. From the carefully controlled expression on his face, I’m guessing he’s buying it about as much as we are.
“She makes me sick,” Sierra whispers. “She didn’t stop looking at you throughout the entire ceremony, and now she expects us to believe this farce? She never seemed to care much about Felix.” She snuggles in closer to me as the priest brings things to a close. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she hired a hitman to get rid of him so she could make a play for you.”
“Saskia is a lot of things, but even I don’t think she would take it that far.” I hold Sierra’s hand out, running my thumb over the ring I put on her finger. “This speaks volumes.”
“To most people, yes. But Saskia is not most people.”
“She’s coming over here,” I murmur.
“Grant me patience.” Sierra sighs, turning to face Saskia and Thomas.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell Barretta, shaking his hand. Up close, I can see the man is severely grieving.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Yes, thank you for coming,” Saskia says, ignoring the fact Sierra is nestled into my left side as she pushes herself up against me, sobbing into my neck.
Thomas pulls her back. “Get a hold of yourself,” he hisses.
Saskia shucks out of his arm. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
She preens in my direction, and I wonder if she has finally snapped because this is erratic, even for her. Appearances always mattered to Saskia, and she’s drawing attention to herself in a way that isn’t favorable. You can’t go around disrespecting the fiancée of a don or potentially causing any ill will between two mafia families. Thomas understands that, yet Saskia fails to understand she no longer serves a purpose. She never gave Felix a child, so any protection she enjoyed as his wife is erased with his death.
“Hey.” Pen and Esme appear at the perfect time. Sierra is close to lunging at her sister, and I really wouldn’t blame her. Saskia is way out of line. “Are you okay?” Pen asks, giving Sierra a quick hug.
“Yes,” Sierra says through gritted teeth.
“We have missed you.” Esme hugs Sierra next. “Let me see the ring,” she adds, almost wrenching Sierra’s arm from its socket as she tugs on her hand. “Oh my God,” she shrieks. “It’s gorgeous and it’s so you!” She thumps my forearm, and I bite back my irritation. “Way to go, Ben.”
This is only my second time meeting both women, but I can already tell I won’t be a big fan of Esme. Penelope is a sweetheart, but I’m still trying to work out what Sierra and Esme have in common.
“Hmph,” Saskia scoffs, glancing briefly at the ring. “I didn’t take you for a cheapskate, Ben.”
Sierra’s hands ball into fists at her side. “Ben knows I’m not some self-obsessed drama queen who needs a big flashy diamond to impress society bitches. He designed something he knew I would love, and that is worth far more than that gaudy rock on your finger.”
