"I know." Does she think I don’t know this? That I don’t know that most men in our world don’t let people in easily, that they don’t trust, and when they do, it’s never fully.
"He does value certain qualities, though. I've known him for years." Her words are loaded. You’d have to be stupid not to know what she’s getting at. She reaches into her purse and takes out her lipstick. "He has... specific expectations of the women in his life."
I look at her in the mirror, watching as she applies her lipstick. "I'm sure he does," I say with a smile on my lips. Kill them with kindness, that’s what I’ve always done and will continue to do so. "And I'm sure he'll tell me what they are if they become relevant."
"Of course." She drops the lipstick back into her clutch and turns slightly toward me. "I only mean to say, this world can be hard on women who aren't prepared for it. I'd hate to see you walk into something without the full picture."
"That's very kind," I say, turning to face her properly. "But I grew up in this world. My father runs the Irish Mafia. I've been watching how it works since I was old enough to attend these events. I'm not walking in blind."
"No, of course not." She holds my gaze. "But there's a difference between growing up in it and becoming part of a specific family. The Mariano household has its own culture. Things that aren't immediately visible from the outside."
"I'm sure I'll learn," I say.
She looks at me for a moment. Then she says, pleasantly, "I'm sure you will. You seem capable."
"Thank you," I say, with the same pleasantness she used. "You seem very invested in how this all goes. I hope the evening is enjoyable for you."
I check my reflection one more time and move toward the door.
"Quinn." Her voice stops me.
I turn.
She's watching me with curious eyes. "I'm not your enemy," she says. "I just know how this world works better than most."
"I don't have enemies," I say. "Not yet.” Her eyes flash with shock. I gift her a bright smile. “Good night, Sabrina."
I walk out, my head held high and the smile still on my face. As I move back downstairs, I spot Lorenzo standing near the window speaking with Daire. He sees me coming across the room before I'm halfway to him.
He watches me close the distance. By the time I reach him, Daire has drifted away, and I can't help but wonder what the hell my sister had to say to him? And, better yet, why the hell did he give her the time of day, especially after everything that has happened?
"What happened?" Lorenzo says.
I look up at him, my brows knitted together as I stare up at him. "Nothing."
He holds my gaze for a moment. "You were gone longer than a bathroom requires."
"I had a conversation."
"With who."
It's not really a question, because I think he already knows.
"Sabrina," I say.
"What did she say?" he says, his voice has taken a lower octave than usual.
"Mostly she was very politely suggesting that I'm out of my depth and don't have the full picture of what I'm walking into." I take a sip from the glass I took from a waitress as I walked toward Lorenzo.
He looks at me for a long moment. "Did she upset you?"
"No." I hold his gaze. "I have been dealing with women like Sabrina my entire life."
"Good," he says. He looks back out at the room. "She'll try again," he says quietly.
"I know."
"Next time the pleasantries will be gone."
