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"Of course, Ryder."
Ryder is Xander's underboss, second in command, and the person calling me to set up a date with my would-be husband.
I smile again and sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
"Are you okay?" Ryder asks. His voice is rough and hoarse. The way it has always been. Possibly the way it will always be until he stops smoking a thousand cigars a day.
I nod, though he cannot see it. Or me. "I am. I'm excited to get out of the house."
He gives a sardonic laugh. "You don't have to lie to me. I know this is difficult for you."
Ryder had been beside Xander during our first breakup, too. He'd gotten front-row tickets to the fights, and when I'd left the house, he'd been the one to call in the driver and send me on my way.
He probably knew how difficult it was being with Xander. He was smart enough to see it coming from the safe distance of his stoic mask.
"I'm fine." I'll be fine.
He doesn't push. "Alright. I'll call you when he's ready to leave. And send a driver with Romero to pick you up."
He hangs up, and I drop the phone on the dresser and get off my chair. It's already late afternoon, and the sun is doing a slow dance across the sky from east to west.
Xander won't like to be kept waiting, and I don't need to have him barking at me to get me on my way to dinner.
Lucian is out with Daniel somewhere. I didn't ask because neither of them seemed to want me to come along with them.
I slip into the bathroom to take a long bath, soaking in a lavender bubble bath that's supposed to be soothing. I don't feel any better when I step out of it thirty minutes later.
I have just finished moisturizing and stepped back from my nightstand dressed in a blue evening dress when the trill of thedoorbell fills my ears. I know it's Rosa before I shove the door open and greet her barely peeking head.
She's holding about three bags already, a few more people trailing behind her with what appears to be more clothes in designer bags.
Nothing but the best for the Vittorios. I already feel tired.
"Do we really need this much?" I mumble, snapping the door closed behind him. Romero hefts the bags in his hands onto the couch and strides out of the room with a nod, probably back to the door where he's been standing guard.
"We do. You've got to look like a Vittorio." Rosa drops her own bags a lot more carefully onto the couch and points at one of the men who arrived with her to start unpacking.
There are designer clutches, a few more in the standard red, black, and white colors to match what I'm certain are simply luxurious dresses.
I trail my fingers over each one, feeling the quality of the fabric beneath my fingers.
They’re gorgeous, for sure.
There are also some jewelry pieces when Rosa opens one of the smaller boxes; a delicate silver ring with an engraved sun cradling a small simmering opal.
A matching necklace features the same sun with a larger opal hanging gracefully from a silver chain.
The next box has a white gold ring with a beautiful aquamarine gemstone set right in the center. The band is crafted to looklike waves. I have to admit it's stunning in it's simplicity. Like something he'd known I'd love.
Its necklace has a round aquamarine pendant on a white gold chain.
And there are a few boxes of shoes. But not just shoes. When I look at the labels, my eyes widen.
Some of these shoes would feed a family for a month.
Rosa coughs behind me. “Miss, your stylist.”
She ushers to a slight man, who is dressed to the nines in a bespoke suit and designer sunglasses. He steps forward, and takes my hand. “Darling,” he purrs. “Are you ready for your entrance?”
