Page 23 of Stroke of Luck

There’s no doubting the fact that he’s pissed. Remo slowly gets up, still holding me close to him, his body taut with rage even though his face is as stoic as always. Looking down, I see the vase on the ground shattered, telling me that it hit Remo instead of me.

I reach up a hand to Remo’s face, drawing his attention to me. “Are you okay? That must have hurt like hell.”

Remo’s face softens slightly as he looks at me before nuzzling his face into my neck. “Better me than you, coniglietto. I will always be your shield.”

“Don’t say shit like that, you’ll ruin your badass reputation,” I giggle, running my fingers through his hair. “Thank you.”

He kisses my pulse point before he lifts his head and kisses me properly, ignoring everything else that’s happening around us. Until Bethany’s screeching becomes too irritating to ignore.

“I don’t get it! You pick a whore like her over me? Do you know who my father is? What I could do for you and your family if we combined forces?”

Othello’s face is a thunderstorm. “Your father might be a senator, but he disowned you, which is why you have been working in my clubs. I showed you kindness, and this is how you repay me? You’re lucky that Remo got here in time, because if she’d gotten hurt, I would’ve killed you on the spot without blinking. As of this moment, you are no longer welcome in any of my businesses, and you cannot remain on our turf. You are exiled, and the Lastra familia no longer offers you protection. Go whore yourself out to someone else.”

Bethany opens her mouth to argue, but Enzo enters the room with a security guard, nodding to her. “Remove this woman and take her outside of our territory. If you see her again, shoot her.”

I struggle to get out of Remo’s hold to stop the guys from what they’re doing, but his iron grip won’t budge. “No, coniglietto. This is the bed she made, she must lay in it. We cannot allow for this slight to go unpunished. She should be killed, but Othello is being lenient for your benefit. Do not push him.”

Sighing, I relax into his hold, letting my fingers comb through his long, silky hair as Enzo and Othello deal with removing Bethany from the house. Moments later they both return, but Othello walks up to me, pulling me from Remo’s arms and wrapping me in a tight hug.

“Mia regina, we leave you alone for five minutes and you get into trouble. What are we going to do with you?” Othello murmurs against the side of my head.

“First of all, you shouldn’t have left me with a woman who wanted to take you guys from me,” I say with a grin. “I wouldn’t have started shit with her if she hadn’t acted like a bitch.”

“Same old skittles. Always fighting for what’s right in a world that’s all wrong,” Enzo mutters, shaking his head. “Looks like you’re gonna have to do the rest yourself.”

Othello finally sets me down on the other side of the room, away from the glass. “If you get me her kit, I’ll manage just fine. I’m an artist—doing makeup is my jam. You’d have known that I didn’t need her if you’d asked.”

“Baby girl, you’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?” Othello chuckles as he grabs what I asked for, setting it on the bed with the large mirror from the wall.

“I told you, just give it time. It’ll grow on you.” I smirk, getting down to business. “How much time do I have to get ready?”

“About thirty minutes, give or take,” Enzo answers.

“Seriously?! What the hell, guys?! Do I have anything to wear? I didn’t exactly buy a dress for a gala on my shopping trip today.”

“I thought you didn’t want us dressing you anymore?” Othello challenges with a raised brow.

I flip him off as I look through the eye shadow colors. “This is different and you know it.”

“I might have had a few dresses sent over for you to pick from. They are hanging in the closet… You remember where that is, right?”

I glance up at him and the humor shining in his eyes. “Yes, I remember where the closet is. Now leave me alone so I can get ready. You keep interrupting me.”

“Never change, skittles,” Enzo says as he places a kiss on my forehead.

Unsure what options I'm going to have for a dress, I keep my makeup simple and classic, leaving my lips for last, wanting them to match what I’ll be wearing. I flick on the light to the closet and find that a whole section is now filled with all the clothes that Giorgi and I got today, along with some other things I didn’t pick out, being high-end designer… but I don’t totally hate them. Wait, when did this become our closet? For fucks sake these men and their take charge attitude.

I find three dresses hanging on a rolling clothes rack. One is a simple, slinky black dress made out of matte silk that I know would be sexy as fuck, but it’s not what I'm feeling. Remo said I need to make an impression, and that’s just what I'm going to do. The next dress is gorgeous, looking almost as if it’s made out of iridescent mermaid scales that glitter in the light. I'm surprised at the soft texture of the dress and almost decide to wear it but want to look at the last dress first. It’s still in the black dress bag, so I unzip it and gasp at the most amazing dress I’ve ever seen.

It looks as if Lisa Frank went and threw up on it. Patterns of all kinds in bright neon colors blend together in a psychedelic moment that makes me squeal with excitement. It’s a strapless dress with a high front thigh slit and a neon green backing that seems like it’ll flash every time I take a step. I have no idea how they found something this exotic, but I’m LIVING for it! Neon green stilettos are set beside the dress and fit the look perfectly. I don’t wear heels often, but I have no problem managing them on a night out.

Finally dressed and ready to turn some heads, I leave Othello’s room and head downstairs, where I assume I’ll find the others. My stomach grumbles in protest, reminding me that I never did get to eat anything with the whole Bethany situation.

Hoping to remedy that, I head right for the kitchen and yank open the freezer. They have to have something fast to throw together in here—it’s a rule that all freezers need to have some kind of junk food. Utterly disappointed, I kick off my shoes and move on to raid the pantry just as Giorgi walks in.

“Um, Skyler, what are you doing?” he asks, peering up at me as I stand on a stool to see the top shelf.

“I refuse to believe that your house has no junk food in it whatsoever. Any self-respecting male has to have a vice, and if I was going to hide something, it would be up here. Oh look, a box of whole grain crackers! That is the perfect cover for contraband, because who in their right mind would eat something like that?” I cheer as I grab the box and open it up to find the tell-tale silver wrapper of a Pop-Tart. “Fuck yes! Am I good or what?”