“Did Margo send you the invoice?” I asked.
“Don’t mind your dad,” Mamma cut in. “It’s nothing compared to what I would spend if I was the one planning your wedding.”
“So far, only one hundred twenty guests,” I said. “Only close family are invited and select associates. How many guests are Dom and Sloane’s wedding up to?”
“Five hundred.” Mamma plated the nazook and baklava. I loved the Persian baklava because they were less sweet, and theones my mother always bought used pistachios. “Sandro and Bianca had over eight hundred guests.”
“It’s not a competition, Mamma. Besides, you’re talking about the Rossi and De Lucci families and associates. I bet ninety-nine percent of Dom and Sloane’s guests are from our side,” I laughed.
“Cara, you can throw a big reception for them after,” Dad told my mother. “You have a blank check.”
Maybe for my divorce party. I snorted into my tea.
“That would be nice. I can start planning in January. Give me a breather during the holidays,” Mamma said. “When’s your engagement announcement coming out in the paper?”
“After the prenup is signed. The lawyers have forty-eight hours to review the final draft.”
“I just got it in my inbox,” Dad said.
“Huh, it wasn’t going to be done until Monday.”
I checked my phone. Sure enough, it was there. I texted Kirill.
Me
Just got the prenup. Regardless, we’re not moving up the wedding date.
Kirill
The announcement is going out on Wednesday.
For someone who didn’t want to make an effort to know his bride, he was certainly pushy to get married.
If everything looks okay on my end, then fine.
You got every point you wanted, including continuing to work.
Yes, but working with Sato glued to my side was going to be tricky. It was a good thing I convinced Kirill that I didn’t need the security while I was living with my parents.
Though I wanted to add an infidelity clause, it was a waste of text because New York was a no-fault divorce state and it wouldn’t be enforced.
“Is something the matter?” Mamma asked.
“No, just telling Kirill I saw the prenup.”
“Was that what you two were arguing about?” Dad asked.
“It’s not that. If you must know, I wanted him to come to the cake tasting, and okay…” I took a bite of nazook and then chased it with tea. “To make the public see that this was nothing but the usual arranged marriage.”
Dad dropped his eyes to his teacup and took a contemplative sip. No matter how I tried to reassure the men in my family, they were certain I wasn’t honest about the whole reason for agreeing to marry Kirill.
My mother’s face softened, and she came around to my other side and sat. She picked up both of my hands, and my barstool swiveled her way so she could have my full attention.
“Listen to me, Stellina,” Mamma said. “Remember what I said to you the other night? In arranged marriages, there are times the groom and the bride don’t actually spend time together prior to the ceremony. In most cases, especially with the mafia, they don’t even meet until the wedding. Yours is not a typical love match, but it looks like you and Kirill came to this arrangement on your own for whatever reason?—”
“That whatever reason still concerns me,” Dad muttered.
Mamma cast Dad a censuring look. “You more than handled those things in the prenup, Paulie.” Her eyes fell back on me. “What was I saying? The hope in any arranged marriage is that you will learn to love each other. Now, I know Kirill appears tobe a hard man to love. But Irina said he used to be a loving, sweet boy.”
