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“Not spying,” Sienna hedges. “Just making sure she—and her family—checks out. For the safety of our family.”
“Right.” She can call it whatever she wants. It’s still spying. “So that means I need to get close to her.” They nod in unison.
Bloody fucking hell. The last thing I want is this wedding to happen, let alone being forced to get closer to a woman who fucking hates me. I know Cara isn’t going to make this easy, which just means that’s one more problem I have to deal with.
“Fine.” I sigh. “I’ll do it.”
8
CARA
Sadie picks me up the next morning. I figure if I’m going to update her, I might as well get out of the house and do it in person. Kimmy’s in the front, so I slide in back. She turns around as soon as I close the door.
“Just so you know, I’m still pissed you missed my art show, but, I have missed you. So.” She turns back around, not even waiting for my reply.
Throwing my arms around the back of her seat, I give her a quick hug. “I missed you, too.”
“Do I get a hug?” Sadie pouts.
“Drive first, then hug after.”
She pulls away, leaving my house behind. When my father got back that night, he was definitely furious that I’d left halfway through. The only thing that got him to calm down was me lying and telling him how overwhelmed I was feeling. Which, if I think about it, isn’t technically a lie. All of this is pretty overwhelming.
“So,” Sadie glances at me in the rear view mirror, “have you dealt with your little problem yet?”
“What problem?” Kimmy perks up, twisting around in the seat. “There’s a problem?”
I sigh, not really wanting to get into it right now. “Nothing. Just…my father is scheming to marry me off to a businessman he really wants to partner with.”
Kimmy gives a low whistle. “Is he hot?”
“Apparently,” Sadie mutters.
“Then why is that a problem?” Kimmy frowns. “You get a hottie for life and don’t even have to trudge through the dating process like the rest of us.”
“Maybe because he’s a horrible person?” I suggest weakly. “You don’t know him.”
“Babe, you gotta look on the bright side of this.” Kimmy shoots me a pointed look. “He’s successful. Your dad approves of him. And you’ve always wanted to be more involved with the business. You do this, you get what you want. And who cares about liking the guy? You can always still have your fun.”
“Not in my family,” I mutter. Women did not cheat on their husbands. That was one of the Golden Rules of being a mafia wife. Killian would probably skin me alive if I ever embarrassed him like that. He seemed like the type. “Can we just, like, talk about anything else?”
Kimmy huffs as if I’d just ruined her whole day. “You finally have something good to dish, and you don’t want to talk about it? Figures.”
I let her vent. She had a point, and I couldn’t argue. I hardly ever told them anything about my life except the occasional study rant about university. But then again, neither of them could really relate to what I went through. Sadie’s parents were both public defenders, and Kimmy’s were both officers. My father tolerated the friendship only because it meant stronger connections with the local police department and courthouse. I let him believe what he wanted, but I knew I would never willingly drag my friends into this world.
“Where are we going?” I ask, not recognizing the streets Sadie had just pulled onto.
“Sads found the cutest little boutique strip. We thought we could check it out. Have a girl’s day,” Kimmy explains.
I sit back, relaxing. A girl’s day sounds like the perfect distraction. We’re just outside the city, closer to the coast, which means we were far enough away from my family drama. I watch the rows of brownstones and shops pass by until Sadie finally finds a parking space on the side of the street. After paying the meter, we head out.
They drag me from store to store, and I have to admit, it really does get everything off my mind. It feels like the old days, before I became more engrossed in my father’s business. We laugh and joke about school and our nights out. Apparently, I’d missed out the night I’d left The Salamander early.
“So, these guys were, like, trying to dance with us, but we needed refills, right?” Kimmy pulls a dress from the rack, looking it over. She thrusts it into my arms. “Here, this would look good on you. Anyway, so I got the guys to get us drinks and, when they came back, we just sort of…danced off.”
“I felt so bad,” Sadie mutters, grimacing. “Like we basically just stole their money.”
“No, we didn’t,” Kimmy argues. She plants her hands on her hips. “Those guys willingly went to buy us drinks, expecting something they shouldn’t have expected in return. We don’t owe men anything just because they buy us shit.”
