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“We are twins,” Perla declared as she descended from the small wooden elevation where she was.
“But we're not identical,” I added when I noticed that the woman alternated her gaze between the two of us, calculating the differences.
“This way they don’t drive me as crazy.” My mother laughed and so did we.
As much as I liked having my physical differences from Perla, I also thought it would have been fun if we were similar enough that we could switch places and prank people. However, as grandma used to say, with great power comes great responsibility.
“Pietra?” The stylist approached me, and I blinked my eyes a few times, pushing my thoughts away.
“Yes.”
“I was talking to her sister about the suggestion I had for the dresses. I think about some lace and stones, but mainly about the difference in colors. I think white and black are an interesting contrast, but I'm open to suggestions if you think you prefer other colors, like blue and pink. The important thing is that there is a clearer distinction between you.” She showed me the designs of the dresses.
“I like black and white,” I told her, and she smiled at me as if I had gotten her idea right.
“I'm going to keep the black one,” Perla warned as she raised her hand, drawing everyone's attention.
“Why don't you decide by rock, paper, scissors?” My mother suggested, trying to avoid a fight and the stylist put her hand over her mouth to cover her laughter.
“No need, mom.” I kept my gaze down, examining the details of the dresses. “The white one is perfect for me.”
“Wonderful!” the designer exclaimed. “I will make the most beautiful pieces for the princesses of Italy.”
“Thank you, Madalena.” My mother gave her a gentle smile.
“We also need to think about your dress, Mrs. Bellucci.”
“The priority is the girls.”
“You too, mother.” Perla stopped in front of her with her hands on her hips. “What do you think of red or gold?” She turned to the stylist.
“She will look beautiful in either color.”
“Golden,” I interjected into the conversation. “Aunt Luize is almost always wearing red, even if it's an accessory in that color and mom deserves to shine too.”
Laís Bellucci was just over forty years old and was still a very beautiful woman. She had aged little over time and would attract even more attention if my father didn't keep her protected.
“Don't you think gold is a little too much?” She alternated her gaze between us.
“It'll be perfect, mommy,” Perla encouraged, running her hand through her hair.
“Okay, you convinced me. Golden it is.”
“I'll also take your measurements, Mrs. Bellucci,” the designer warned.
“This party is going to be incredible.” Perla was vibrating with excitement while I remained silent without risking saying anything.
I had no idea what it would be like and deep down I was afraid of any possible clash between my father and Mikhail. I wanted the situation to be resolved in the best way, but I was afraid that this would not be possible.
I just didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially everyone I loved: Mikhail and my family.
Chapter forty-one
I knew that whoever was plotting against me was closer than I would have liked and was following my steps. The men didn't say anything, but I was sure there were suspects among them. Soldiers used to be loyal, as long as their salaries continued to be paid and their family was well looked after if anything happened. Due to the high risk, the rewards also needed to be in the same proportion.
Therefore, I had few heads left to target, unless I wanted even more enemies within the mafia than the ones I already had.
I fumbled on the table and pulled out my cell phone when it shook on top of some papers I had analyzed.
