I’m chatting with a vendor friend and about to leave when the black SUV pulls up to the curb.
Frack. I know this car. And when the doors open and two men step out, my blood runs cold: I know both of them too. They’re the two guards from the Demonio estate who wouldn’t let me leave. The guards I poisoned, Jett and Darius.
When they see me see them, Darius stops short, waiting to see what I do while Jett keeps moving toward me, his hands raised in surrender.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Bellamorte,” Jett says, as he gets closer. “We come in peace.”
I nod slowly, stepping away from my vendor friend, trying to guess if I can get to the closest exit and disappear into the busy street before Jett can reach me. He’s closing the distance between us quickly.
“Jett,” I say cooly, like I’m not freaking the eff out in my head. “How are you feeling?”
He chuckles as Darius heads back toward the SUV. “Better,thank you.”
“Good.” I shift my bags in my arms. “I’m glad to hear it. What can I do for you that’s so urgent you had to track me down here?”
“We’re here on behalf of the boss,” he says. “He asked us to bring you some options.” He nods at Darius, who opens the back door of the car and pulls out a garment bag.
I squint and move closer as Darius unzips the back, giving me a look inside.
There are three dresses. One is deep charcoal wool with a square neckline and long sleeves, elegant and severe. One is a softer black with a draped collar, and the third is midnight navy that catches the light differently at different angles, in an extraordinary way.
I gasp. I’ve never seen anything like them, and I flush with embarrassment realizing I hadn’t even given much thought to what I would wear. Blending into the wall doesn’t require me to be flashy, and wearing a simple black shirt and pants will make me look close enough to the catering staff that I’ll fit in better.
I frown as Jett takes my bags out of my hands so I can look more closely. Fitting me in dresses is a hardship. No dress that fits my ass looks right on my much smaller chest. But as I examine the dresses, I realize that all of them look promising: just the right amount of stretch and drape to fit my figure beautifully. And be beautifully ruined by the food I plan on bringing.
I close the garment bag.
“That’s very kind,” I say carefully. “But I’m going to go in my own clothes. I have something appropriate. And I’m planning tobring food, which means I’ll be working rather than attending, so there’s no need—”
“Mr. Demonio insists. We are to wait while you get ready then take you to the airfield,” Darius says. “The plane leaves in two hours.”
“I don’t need a plane. I can drive—”
“It’s the Demonio estate, Miss Bellamorte. It’s not accessible by road.”
I open my mouth and close it. Frack. Forgot about that.
“He also said that the kitchen at the estate is fully stocked, and Miss Lucia will be managing the catering staff so you don’t need to worry about ruining the dress you choose.”
“We have shoes as well,” Darius adds. Darius seems excited about the shoes, and I raise an eyebrow.
“I appreciate all of this,” I say. “I really do. But showing up on Vin’s private plane in a dress that costs more than my monthly food budget is—it’s too much. It’s just not appropriate.”
“It’s appropriate,” says Jett kindly. “You are Mr. Demonio’s guest, and it’s the funeral of a patriarch.”
I press my lips together. “This really isn’t something I feel comfortable with.”
“With respect,” Darius says evenly, ”you almost killed us.”
I freeze.
His face is neutral, but I doubt mine is. My heart is racing.
Darius points between himself and Jett. “Both of us. It was a close call, from what Dr. Rossi said.”
I glance at Jett who nods in agreement.
“I’m sorry about that. It was a carefully calibrated dose,” I say. “Lucia assured me that everything would be fine, and I couldn’t let—”
