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I look out my car window at the section of red carpet rolled out in front of the Mazzanti Enterprises building. Along the building, behind the carpet, are giant free-standing banners with the Mazzanti logo, the name of the charity organization that will be speaking tonight, and then the emblem for Marie’s House, making sure all the photos shared from tonight have the proper branding.
Marie’s House is the main recipient of tonight’s donations, and hopefully the sum will allow them to start work on a second location.
For the first one, they remodeled an old hotel into no-cost transitional housing for women and families. It was the love project of Marie Mazzanti, mother oftheVincent Mazzanti, the man who currently runs Mazzanti Enterprises and was formally known as Mr. Sin before his now wife, Sasha, ran his PR campaign and transitioned him to an upstanding businessman.
I’ve met Vincent and Sasha a few times over the years, typically at events like this, where a table costs five figures. But for a family oncerumored to be in the mafia, they do a lot of good. And I’m looking forward to being more involved in their future projects.
So, with that, thinking of the greater good, I straighten my shoulders and tell my driver I’m ready.
I could have driven myself, but I plan to partake in the bar tonight, and it’s easier to get through this part being dropped off.
While the driver circles the car to open my door, I smooth my hands down my embellished skirt.
As I told Luke, the theme for tonight is black and white, and I chose the latter because I’ve been waiting for a reason to wear this dress.
The scoop neckline covers my cleavage, and the long sleeves are conservative, but the bright white material is covered in thousands of tiny crystals, and the way it clings to my body is anything but conservative. Not to mention the only thing breaking up the glittering fabric is the slit that runs halfway up my thigh.
I finished the look with white silk pumps and white enamel jewelry.
It’s almost bridal but morewinter royaltythan anything else.
And if I’m honest, I’m excited to hear Luke call me a Princess while wearing it.
The driver opens my door, and I climb out of the back seat.
Chapter 104
Luke
My Uber driverturns in his seat to look at me. “You sure this is the right place?”
I let out a laugh, not offended. “Pretty sure.”
I may be dressed up in a black suit, black loafers, and black button-down shirt—with the top two buttons open—but I’m in the back of a fucking Honda, and I’m pretty sure that’s a Maserati SUV waiting in the line of cars that are idling in front of the massive Mazzanti building.
We watch the driver get out of the expensive-as-fuck SUV and walk around to the back.
“You want me to get out and open your door?” My driver lifts a brow.
I smooth my hands down my pants and shake my head, then straighten my green silk pocket square.
“Nah, man. I…”
The Maserati driver is at the rear passenger door and mostly blocked by the vehicle, but when he steps back, a head of dark glossy hair peeks above the roof. Big curls shine under the bright lights set up around the red carpet.
I hold my breath as the woman steps away from the car toward the person directing people down the carpet.
She steps into view.
Something big—and important—settles in my chest. Because it’s her.
It’s my fucking wife.
And she doesn’t just look like a princess.
She looks like a fucking queen.
Chapter 105
