“Bitch,” I agree.
“Hmm.” The sound of hangers clacking together through the phone makes me grin. Charlie is in her closet, rummaging through her boutique-quality wardrobe. She makes sounds of contemplation as she rifles through. “I have a lot here. You have time to run over real quick?”
“My boobs are way bigger than yours,” I point out. “And you’re taller with a slimmer waist and hips. I doubt you have anything that will work for me.”
“Oh, screw your tig old biddies! I’ve got the perfect thing. I’ll have a courier bring it right over.”
I know from experience that nothing my sister owns will fit me right, but I’m not about to argue with her. “Okay, if you think it will fit.”
“It will fit. Call me as soon as you leave the dinner tonight. I won’t be able to sleep until I know how it goes! Oh, and send me a pic of you in the dress. Gotta run. Love you!”
She clicks off. I stare at the mute phone for a moment before returning to my pile of useless clothes. After cleaning up the mess, I assess myself in the bathroom mirror.
My makeup still looks decent, but it could use a touch-up before dinner. I could beg Livvie to help me again, but soon she and Charlie won’t be here to glam me up every time I need it. If this marriage agreement requires that I make a lot of appearances with my husband, I’m going to need to step up my primp game. The Bellantis seem to always have their hands in something. They’re at every event, every party. Every wedding and business grand opening. Every winery seasonal opener.
I never imagined myself in this kind of life. I always thought I’d run the family winery behind the scenes, not be at the forefront of it. That was supposed to be Charlie’s job, and Livvie too, with her bubbly personality. Eventually.
To think that she could be in my place right now, getting ready for dinner with a Bellanti. Sold as part of a business deal. I can only imagine what all this would do to her tender spirit, her warm, loving heart. No, a man like Dante Bellanti doesn’t deserve someone like Livvie.
Charlie is right. I need to grow a pair, maybe two, and set some rules with my fiancé. I don’t want to be a doormat any more than I want to be his wife, but at least I can have some say in how our marriage operates.
The sound of the doorbell sends me rushing down the stairs. The courier is at the door, just as Charlie promised, holding out a white garment bag with a designer’s name stamped on it in gold foil. I’m a little too curious to see what’s inside—excited, even. Though I wish I were dressing for a different occasion. Something to actually be excited about.
Back in my room, I set the bag on the bed and unzip it. The dress still has the tags on it—it’s clearly brand new, and just purchased in my size.
It’s a beautifully rich purple, the exact shade to bring out the violet undertones in my blue eyes. I stroke the silk charmeuse, which feels ridiculously expensive. Slipping into it in front of my mirror, a little shiver goes through me. The dress clings like a second skin while still managing to keep me completely covered from neck to mid-calf. The neckline hugs the base of my throat, there’s artful draping over the bust, and the fitted waist gives me a slim line. Long sleeves slightly flutter at the wrist, making me feel demure yet sexy. It’s the perfect combination of date night and business.
I have to admit, it shows off my figure perfectly without giving too much away. This isn’t an occasion that I’m excited about by any means, and I hate that I have to do this.
But thank goodness for sisters who make me look hot while I do.
5
Frankie
My father has officially ruinedus.
It’s apparent judging by the looks I get as I step into the new restaurant on the edge of Napa, Bella Notte. Despite the fact that the place just opened recently, I spot half a dozen family acquaintances at the tables in the dining area—which is only to be expected when you live in a small town. Their eyes drill into me as I approach the hostess stand.
I give a little wave to a woman and her partner, both looking straight at me. They snub my greeting and turn back to their meals. Another couple stares at me in distaste, but most of the familiar faces are turned away now, blatantly ignoring me.
An older woman hazards a brief smile, and I smile back, but it seems that whatever my father did to ruin our family name was unforgivable. People aren’t quick to let go of grudges around here, especially where their wine is concerned.
What will people say when they find out I’m engaged to Dante Bellanti?
Damn my father to hell.
The hostess takes my name and shows me to a secluded private table in the back. It’s empty. I sit and immediately notice there are place settings for three.
“Has Mr. Bellanti arrived yet?” I ask.
“No, ma’am. Would you care for a glass of house red while you’re waiting?”
Of course Dante is running late to a dinner he set up. Men like him are always making power plays. Or maybe this is my punishment for showing up uninvited to the Bellanti offices today. I wonder how long he’s going to keep me waiting.
“The house red sounds perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”
God knows I need something to calm my nerves.
