Page 54 of Maximum Bet

I can’t listen to more. Throwing my headphones down, I jump to my feet.

“Get Lucas on the fucking phone!”

Chapter 20

Cassandra

Vincent and Cecilia Tariello’s home rivals celebrities’ mansions in the Hollywood Hills. The Tuscan architecture and warm Mediterranean color scheme remind me of the portraits of the Italian countryside hanging on the walls of Mare Di Sicilia. A wrought iron fence with sharp spires at the top surrounds the property.

Sadie’s mouth hangs open when we pull up to the security gate, her nose almost pressed against the glass of the back seat window. I giggle and slap her leg, hoping Sam and Adam don’t notice from the front.

One of the guards flags us through after checking Sam’s ID, even though they clearly know each other. I’m comforted to see the security ramped up for Sadie’s shower. I probably won’t need the derringer packed in my purse, but after the Pharaoh’s Temple gala, I’ve made it a habit to bring the small pistol everywhere, just in case.

We make it up the stone-paved driveway and pull in front of a three-tiered fountain. Sadie sighs as she waits for Sam to open her door. I roll my eyes. The girl is impressed by everything.

Waiting for us outside the arched glass doorway, Natalie waves, her pale-pink sundress accentuating her strawberry-blonde hair and fair complexion.

“You look so pretty,” I say, stepping forward and hugging her. “I love this.” I gently tug at the fabric of her skirt.

“Oh.” She blushes. “Thank you. Leo bought it for me last week. He took me shopping.” She adjusts her glasses as she glances down at the dress. Natalie’s humility is one of the reasons I love working with her. “Anyway, Sadie,” she says, turning to my friend. “I want final approval of the decorations before everyone gets here.”

“Absolutely!” With enthusiasm, Sadie follows Natalie past the threshold and through the grand foyer, her ballet flats tapping on the marble floors as she walks.

I linger behind, taking gift bags from Adam before he escorts me into the house. He tells me to have fun before turning toward the kitchen, where our bodyguards hang out during our visits to Cecilia and Vincent’s home. While Cecilia is an amazing cook, she employs a caterer for large events. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Adam has a crush on the thirty-year-old chef. If nothing else, he’s obsessed with the food she regularly gives him to sample.

I meander toward the living room, where Sadie’s shower will be held. An elaborate arch made of blue balloons decorates the entryway, hinting at the scale to which Natalie took her duties.

As I pass under the arch, I hear Sadie’s exclamations of excitement as she spins in the middle of the room. Her flowing blue maternity dress spins out, highlighting her childlike enthusiasm.

“Natalie, this is absolutely amazing,” Sadie says. “It’s even better than I imagined.”

“Oh, thank God.” Natalie places her hand over her chest and blows out an exaggerated breath. “I was so worried you wouldn’t like it.”

“Are you serious?” Sadie laughs. “I love it!”

As Sadie continues to marvel at the custom “Welcome Baby” signs and the life-sized wooden stork cutout, the sound of tapping heels alerts us to another guest’s arrival.

Well, not so much a guest as the host of the party.

“Oh, girls, you’re here!” Cecilia Tariello looks as breathtakingly gorgeous as she always does, in a blue floral wrap dress and her hair in a French twist. The woman is consistent in her dislike of plastic surgery, so I have no idea how she still appears to be in her late thirties. I would do anything to age as gracefully as Cecilia.

Her hazel eyes, the same color as her son’s, dance around the room as she remarks on the garland of baby onesies punctuated with blue bows.

“Natalie, you’ve outdone yourself!” she says before slipping into hostess mode and ensuring each of us has a drink in hand.

We settle on the couches, Natalie and I with peach Bellinis while Sadie and Cecilia sip on non-alcoholic white Sangria. We chat about babies and weddings and laugh about our men as we wait for the other guests.

Amanda is the first to arrive, carrying a box wrapped in light-blue, metallic paper. It’s so big she nearly drops it before Cecilia ushers her to the gift table.

Next are Whitney and Marisa, the latter of whom flew in just for the occasion. Soon, the room fills with friends and family. I’m thrilled to meet Sadie’s little sister and aunt, who made the trip from Arizona to celebrate with her. Her aunt hugs Sadie tight and tells her that her late mother would be proud.

Everyone snacks on hors d’oeuvres, while Natalie begins explaining the first game we’ll play. Each of us is supposed to cut a piece of yarn off a spool to guess how long it should be to fit around Sadie’s belly. We laugh as the strings are put to the test, with Sadie’s sister ultimately winning the prize—a commemorative rattle wrapped in gauzy blue ribbon.

Right as Sadie begins opening her gifts, things take a turn.

“Miss Bain.”

Still laughing at the “Party, my crib, 2 a.m.” onesie Whitney gifted, I twist in my chair to find Adam lurking in the dining room doorway, his expression drawn as his eyes scan the party.