Elena
The aftermath of Julius’s funeral had people asking a lot of questions, as well as flinging accusations. Maximo was pulled away into meetings with the other dons and their council members. The few nights he did come home, he was exhausted. I grew more and more concerned.
For an entire week I stayed in the penthouse, gradually regaining my hearing. At least it wasn’t permanently lost. My other scapes and bruises healed up too.
Even though Maximo spent so much time away, I was never alone. My sister and cousins dropped by throughout the days to check in on me. I appreciated the distraction. But every night I went to sleep missing my husband.
The bed dips, waking me from troubled sleep and I groan. Grey light sneaks around the edges of the curtains, signaling that it’s near dawn. As the mattress moves again, Maximo kisses my forehead.
“Go back to sleep. You need your rest,cara mia. I’ll see you tonight.”
I want to argue, to beg him to stay, but the next time I blink golden sunshine tells me hours have passed. I roll over.His masculine scent clings to the pillow. I bury my nose in it, inhaling a piece of him. I miss him so much.
I hate sitting back and having nothing to do but wait. Every day that Maximo’s gone, doing who knows what with the other leaders, I feel more and more useless. If I could do something to help, I would. But I’m not part of that inner circle. I’m kept in the dark, on the sidelines, and that eats away at me. Especially after Maximo declared he wanted me to rule beside him, to be his queen. Where’s that promise now?
My phone vibrates on the night stand. With a yawn, I pick it up and check my messages. There’s a sweet good morning text from him that brings a smile to my face. Scrolling through my notifications, I find a message from Skye.
Skye Adair:
Hey. When you’re feeling up to it, I need you to come in for a fitting. No rush.
Elena:
How’s today for your schedule? Noon?
Skye Adair:
Great! See you at noon.
I drag myself out of bed, noting that it’s almost ten already. I have just enough time to grab a bite of breakfast, shower, and get dressed.
I also text Maximo to tell him I’m going out. He orders another car of soldiers to escort me around town. I feel slightly ridiculous with this much protection, but better safe than sorry. I learned my lesson long ago that you can never be too prepared. So I push down my embarrassment of being seen with what feels like my own personal army.
Once we arrive at Skye’s studio, Guillio leads one team to do a sweep of the place. When they announce it’s safe, I ordereveryone outside. They don’t need to be in here while I’m trying on clothes. To my relief, they don’t question me, instead taking up positions at the exits and along the street in various parked cars. Passersby stare and mutter to each other about all the strange men on the street. I sigh, they’re not nearly as discreet as they think.
“How are you feeling?” Skye asks, leading us into the back room.
“Much better.” I told her what happened after I had to cancel this appointment last week.
“I’m so glad.” She offers me a warm smile.
“How have you been?” I admire the clothes hanging on the rack. Summer isn’t even close to over, but today we’re curating my autumn wardrobe. I’m loving the rich, warm colors and cozy fabrics.
“I’m… good.” She laughs when I shoot her a questioning glance. “I mean my days are pretty routine. I live and breathe fashion, that’s my whole life. I’m actually going to Milan’s fashion week at the end of September.”
“Oh! That sounds amazing.”
“It’s always a good time.” She waves toward the clothing rack. “What do you think?”
“Everything is gorgeous. I can’t wait to try it on.”
“Okay. Then let’s get to work.”
Three hours of trying on clothes, standing still while she makes notes and does some alterations with pins, and I’m ready to crawl back into bed. Getting dressed and undressed, repeatedly, is more draining than you’d think. Maybe I’m not as recuperated as I thought. It’s not like I’m trying to run a marathon.
After thanking Skye for everything, I head home. Maximo won’t be back for several hours, which means I can sleep the restof the day away. Or read. I haven’t curled up with a good book in a while.
I’m daydreaming about slipping into a comfortable lounge set, pouring myself a glass of ice tea, and starting a new book, when I enter the foyer—and immediately stop.
