Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I want to tell myself it’s because she’s worried about who her son is marrying and that I should gear myself up to be interrogated or even persuaded to leave him. But unless Rya Monti is a phenomenal actress, she never gave me that impression at all. And that’s what makes this situation harder.
She gave me her ring.
I’m in way too deep with his family already, and, for some reason, I seem to be the only one conscious of this. It makes me feel guilty. How the fuck is that even possible since I haven’t had a conscience since… ever.
“How long has she been waiting?” I ask nervously. I didn’t know we had someone waiting for us. If I had, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so eager to piss him off by breaking into his apartment.
“My mother is always punctual. In fact, she usually arrives in advance.” He tries to hide the smile as the blood drains from my face.
“It’s not funny,” I hiss under my breath. “You could’ve given me a heads-up.”
The older woman guides us through the large space where multiple gorgeous dresses are on display. There’s no one else here except for a receptionist who smiles at us. When we’re taken into the second room, which is smaller but far more grandly decorated, I spot Rya. She’s sitting on a pink sofa, holding a glass of champagne while she rapidly types on her phone one-handed. A bottle of bubbly sits on the side table next to her very expensive handbag.
She looks up and smiles as we enter. “You made it.” She stands and says, “Eli called and said you felt sick. Do you feel better now?” She places her hand against my forehead, and I instinctively step back at the touch before realizing I’m doing it.
“S-sorry,” I stutter.
“Don’t be.” She gives me an understanding look. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone actually try to take my temperature, and it’s unnerving how obvious I just made it. I don’t care what people think about me, but it’s becoming more apparent that I’ve been cast in a role I’m sadly unequipped for.
“I hope you weren’t waiting too long,” I finally say.
“Not at all. It gave me time to reply to some emails. Lord forbid a law firm run on its own. There would be no fun in that.” She chuckles.
“Don’t let Pops hear you say that,” Eli jokes. She smiles as she presses a kiss to his cheek.
“Please. Your father still comes in with bloody cuffs and thinks I don’t notice.”
The woman beside us shifts uncomfortably at that comment, and I try my hardest not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I must truly be out of my mind, marrying into a mafia family.
“Now, shoo. You shouldn’t be here. It should just be us girls,” Rya says to Eli, hands on her hips.
I reach out frantically and grab his wrist. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No, I want him here,” I’m quick to say. For some reason, being alone with Rya Monti terrifies me. Not because I’m intimidated by her. Okay, maybe I am a little. But because I feel too guilty for lying to her, she’s showing me what having an actual mother might be like. I find it strange that had she been my mother growing up she wouldn’t have thought twice about my fixation on guns or my killer instinct. It might’ve been embraced, instead of scorned, and maybe I wouldn’t have been abandoned by my own mother.
Eli smirks and slides his hand around my waist. Okay, now the fucker is pushing his boundaries.
“You don’t want it to be a surprise?” he asks.
“No. I want to wear what you like. It’s your special day, too,” I reply, careful not to glare him to death or push his hand away from me. Each time he touches me now, I hate that I like it more and more. I inwardly remind myself that I hate this man. “So yes, I’d like it if you stayed.”
“I’ll stay, then.” He leans, in brushing his lips over my neck. I know we’re being watched, so I close my eyes briefly to make it believable.
Rya seems pleased with the exchange, and I realize that Eli probably never had intentions of leaving. After all, he is not a man of tradition, even if his family has some whack old-school rules.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” Rya offers. “Might help with the nerves.”
“Yes.” I all but scoop the glass out of her hand and down half of it. I’m not a big drinker, but I need some liquid courage to get through today.
The sales associate seems affronted by my desperate need for booze but walks me to the dressing room and asks, “Do you have any idea of what style you might like?”