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Finally, he kicks his shoes off and picks me up once more, getting into the shower with me. I’m forced to let go as he pulls the shirt I’m wearing off. His own wet dress shirt is clinging to his body, outlining his pecs and abs.
I start to unbutton it, needing skin on skin contact. It’s ruined anyway, so I just toss it down to the shower floor and press myself against him. I bury my face in his neck. “I didn’t mean to,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “I told him no. I wasn’t trying to be a whore.”
Angelo pushes me back to look me in the eyes, and I’m terrified of what he’s going to say next. “Lucia, I didn’t… I know you didn’t want that. I’m not mad at you. I’m just… fucking pissed at myself for even letting him get that far. I should have killed him after the first time.”
I’m so relieved that I sag against him, and he steadies me with his arm around my waist to hold me up. “Just don’t leave me again,” I beg. “Please don’t leave me alone. I can’t… I can’t.” I meet his eyes, knowing my own expression is frantic. He can’t go back to the party. He has to stay with me. “I’m scared,” I add in a small voice, and it’s true, but I also know how that’s going to affect Angelo. His expression softens and he nods.
“All right. Let’s both of us get cleaned up, and… I have to go back to the party, but you can come with me. I think Victor has a nice dress you can wear.”
The thought strikes me as impossibly funny, and I nearly choke on my laughter. “I don’t think we’re the same size,” I say, giddy with relief that he’s not going to put me back in that room alone.
Angelo gives me a confused look, then chuckles. “Oh. Not like that. He bought a few in your size a week ago. Don’t tell him I told you, but he fucking loves dressing people up. I think most of Saint’s suits were gifts from Victor, too.”
I nod. “I’ll be good,” I promise, my grip tightening on him. “I promise. I won’t say anything unless you tell me I can. I’ll be perfect.” Part of me is screaming that this just isn’t me, that I shouldn’t be saying these things, but after being locked in that room… after having Freddie nearly rape me, after having his lifeless corpse start to tumble onto me… I can’t help it. I’ll say and do anything just to be aroundsomeone.
“I know you will,” Angelo tells me, kissing my temple.
I don’t let go of him until every last drop of blood has washed down the drain.
27
Lucia
It’s strange how different I feel wearing clothes. Not just Angelo or Saint’s shirts, but an actual dress, fitted for me. I know it’s actually been tailored, because it hugs my curves in a way I wouldn’t expect of a dress straight off the rack. I wonder when Victor had the chance to measure me, but then again, I guess they’ve watched me sleep—or had me knocked out—on multiple occasions.
“Damn, Victor’s interior decorating sucks, but he sure knows how to make people look good.” Angelo runs his hands over my body, smoothing the silk over my skin. “The earrings and necklace on the counter are for you, too.”
I have to wait for him to let go before I can get the jewelry, sparkling diamonds that complement the black dress perfectly. With a bit of Victor’s hair products, I have my hair styled into flowing waves.
There’s even a brand-new set of make-up. My hands are shaky as I pick it up, but muscle memory helps me through the process. When I’m done, nobody would ever guess that I was crying just twenty minutes ago, or that half my face had been covered in blood.
This is the Lucia of a month ago. This is how I’m supposed to look. I’m confident, and demanding, and…
And I just want to cling to Angelo.
Angelo kisses the nape of my neck. “I think you’re ready. Let’s head downstairs. I bet Victor’s getting pissed about my absence.”
I nod numbly and allow him to take my arm. The heels have added a few inches of height, but Angelo is still taller than me, and that gives me the smallest sense of safety. It helps that the halls are mostly empty, giving me a chance to steady myself and remember how to be a high society lady once more.
We reach the grand room the party is taking place at, and if it wasn’t for Angelo’s presence at my side, I might have bolted anyway. There’s a difference between not wanting to be alone and wanting to be around all of these people, and I’m dizzy at the sight of all of them. What if some of them recognize me?
I nearly miss a step.
Freddie had said my father had sent him here. I know I need to tell Angelo, but I’m afraid he’ll just lock me away again for my own “safety.” I’m safer out here with him, at his side—the corpse in my own bedroom suite should say that much.
I lean closer to Angelo and ask, “What’s this party for?” There are so many people, all of them chatting and whispering. Most of the men have that distinctgangsterlook, while the women hover betweenwifeormistress. I wonder which one I resemble.
“It’s Don Marino’s birthday,” Angelo whispers back. “Victor agreed to host to get into his good graces.”
I’ve attended a few mob birthday parties. They’re ostensibly just to celebrate, but of course most of the men take the opportunity to make deals and discuss their shady underworld dealings. My father has forced me to attend a fair few. That’s how I met Emilio Pavone. If only I’d feigned a headache that day.
Thankfully I don’t actually know Don Marino. He isn’t part of my father’s circle. Hopefully the animosity between the mafia families means I’ll fly under the radar now.
I paste on a smile and follow Angelo as he weaves through the room.
It only takes me a moment to realize where he’s taking me. As soon as I see Victor in the crowd, I know that’s where we’re headed. I jerk my head up in alarm. Victor’s going to be pissed when he sees I’m out and about.
“Angelo,” I whisper urgently to him. “What are you doing?”
