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Tempest starts to clap, ripping me from my thoughts. I focus, realizing Bianca’s just finished her solo. I join in the clapping and stifle a giggle when Tempest leaps to her feet, whistling loudly.
“Get it, girl!” she screams at Bianca. “QUEEN SHIT! Prima ballerin?—”
We both go silent when Madame Kuzmina whirls and cracks what looks like a wooden switch they’d use for discipline in the 1800s across the back of an auditorium chair.
“Silence!” she barks menacingly, glaring into the dark from under her shawl.
“We should go,” I hiss at Tempest.
“I’ll meet you outside,” Bianca mouths at us from behind her glaring director as we stifle our giggles and bolt out the door.
“I dunno…” Bianca shrugs, running her fingers along the frilly edge of the mannequin’s gown.
She glances at me, pushing a lock of dark hair back from her face. I’ve met her brother, Tempest’s husband Dante, a few times. With similar dark hair, sharp blue eyes, and bronzed Italian skin, it’s crazy how alike they look, though with something like a thirteen-year age difference.
“When did you know you wanted to be a lawyer?”
A chill runs up my spine, even though I should have expected this question after asking her “when did you know you wanted to be a ballerina”.
But my answer comes as quickly as the shiver.
“Nineteen,” I say flatly.
That’s when I saw what the law in the wrong hands could do. How truth could be twisted, fear weaponized, and naiveté exploited. So I chose to go into law myself, and instead use it to help people.
Okay, so it’s not like I’m out saving the world or ending poverty or hunger every day at Crown and Black. Our clients tend to be rich, privileged, and mostly use us to keep their financial and business affairs in order. But at least I’m not a monster who helps other monsters cover their sins.
“I was probably like three. I think I always knew,” Bianca says with a smile.
And now, she’s knocking at the door of being the top ballerina in one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the country. Good for her.
I know that she was barely more than a baby, and Dante maybe fourteen or so, when their parents died. After that, they were taken in by Vito Barone, head of the Barone Mafia family, and raised as his own alongside his sons Carmine and Nico.
It’s kind of beautiful to see that she grew up to become this graceful, elegant dancer despite being raised deep in the world of the Mafia.
We both continue our slow meander around the dress boutique until she stops in front of another one. Her breath catches, and an almost childlike look of delight spreads over her face as she runs her fingertips over the pearl-and-faux-diamond-studded gown.
“God, this one is gorgeous,” she breathes.
She’s got good taste. The gown is stunning.
“Ooo, what’d you find?!”
Tempest hustles over, shoving a flute of champagne into my hand and another into Bianca’s. She turns to eye the gown and whistles.
“Fuck me, that’s…gorgeous.”
“Right?” Bianca breathes. “Beyond beautiful.” She frowns as her phone dings. “Crap, sorry, I’ll be right back,” she mutters, scowling at the screen before scurrying off.
“How are we finding everything, ladies?” The boutique owner, Denise, sweeps over to us, all smiles and flourishes.
It’s weird looking at wedding dresses. It’s not that I was never that little girl who imagined her own wedding and what sort of dress she’d wear. But it wasn’t a regular thing for me. As I got older, I guess I thought I might get married one day. But when I went into law, with the grueling, punishing hours and work it entails, dating just got pushed to the back burner.
And now here I am.
“This one is amazing,” Tempest blurts, eying the dress Bianca spotted.
“Well, you have excellent taste,” Denise beams.
