“I won’t keep you anymore. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Ricci, and Natasha, have a good one.” Christian leans toward the bandaged man sitting, whispering something to him that makes the man move faster than he has since he got off the elevator.
I debate asking Natasha who those men were, when Elaine swoops in, grabbing my arm. “Follow me,” she directs as we walk back to a small, curtained-off area.
“Here you go, try it on.” She hands me the garment bag she has been holding. “I already know it’s going to fit, but I need to make sure.”
I draw the curtain, making my way into the cramped space.
Elaine shouts from the other side of the curtain, “Don’t forget to show us once you have the dress on!”
“I won’t forget,” I reply as I unzip the garment bag, revealing a stunning, long black gown.
I slip into the gown and admire my reflection in the mirror. The dress has a halter top with a black collar leading to a mesh section right above my cleavage. The bodice of the dress is fitted, hugging my wide hips that I inherited from Mama, and it has an offset slit as the bottom flows. It’s a gorgeous dress, and I can’t lie, it does fit me like a glove.
I move the curtain with one hand, grabbing the fabric that drapes down with the other as I step out to where both Elaine and Natasha stand, eagerly awaiting me.
“Absolutely stunning, Ms. Ricci,” they say in unison. Their eyes linger on each other, as if saying some secret between them before looking at me once more.
“You can have this pressed in time for this evening, right?” Natasha asks Elaine.
“This evening?” I ask Natasha.
“Yes, Ms. Ricci. This evening. As I said to you earlier, tonight is the big company charity gala. It’s a huge night on our social calendar. Lots of current and prospective clients will be in attendance. You are now part of the Marked Inc. family, so you will attend as Mr. Moretti’s plus one.”
I look at her absolutely dumbfounded.His plus one?Unbelievable. Was he planning on telling me this today, or just springing this on me, as well?
“Ok, you can get changed and head home for the day. Mr. Moretti just texted me that your only job for today is to relax and get ready for tonight’s gala,” Natasha says, unaware of the anger reemerging inside of me.
“Once you get changed, just hand the dress to me so I can have it pressed,” Elaine chimes in.
Internally seething, I walk back into the curtained area and quickly change.
Natasha says something else to Elaine in, again, what I am assuming is Italian, before Natasha clears her throat.
“It was wonderful meeting you, Sienna. Once you hand Elaine the dress, you are free to go.”
Whipping the curtain open as I fasten the solo button on my blazer, I startle them. “What do you mean, free to go? I just got here an hour ago,” I press Natasha.
Not expecting my abrupt questioning, she shoots Elaine a confused glance. “But Mr. Moretti said that you can head home,” she says, apprehensively.
I hand Elaine the dress, thanking her for her time. As I go to shake Natasha’s hand, I say, “Thank you for your help. If I am all done here, I am going to head back to the 15th.”
“But that’s Mr. Morettis—”
“Yep, I know,” I say as I waltz past them, about to give this asshole a piece of my mind.
Chapter18
Carmine
Judging by the monstrous-sounding footsteps that echo down the hallway, I can already decipher who is responsible for the commotion. I recognize the distinct heavy thud of my father’s footsteps as the glass top of my bar cart rattles from his exaggerated stomps. Each step vibrates the bar cart more, as he makes his grand, unwanted entrance.
He is angry, just as I expected.
Lizzie excuses herself, looking at me with apologetic eyes as she scurries out of my office. She forgets to shut the damn door, as if my father wouldn’t tear it down to get to me if it were closed. But at least, if it were shut, it would be an obstacle for him to have to break through before getting to me.
Before I have time to stand up from my desk to prepare myself for what will undoubtedly be a fight, he storms into my office solo, no henchmen to be seen. A surprising move by my usually cowardly father. Everywhere he goes, he has at least two nameless minions by his side to help do his dirty work for him. Or, at least, that’s how it is now.
Once upon a time, Armando Moretti used to hunt and kill his own prey, until the list of enemies became greater than his ability to end them. That is a problem I’ve never had. I have the blood of many who deserved it on my hands, and yes, some who didn’t. Either way, I know how to handle my problems. This man, this despicable prick that I have the misfortune of having to call Father, is better at causing problems than having enough brain cells to solve them.
