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I give Luke my story, but I can tell from his grim expression that I’m out of luck.
“I’m sorry, Jo, but there isn’t enough evidence to be granted a restraining order since you’re unable to prove Lorenzo Bianchi is a threat to your physical or mental health,” Luke sincerely apologizes. “You have no documentation. No witnesses. No doctor’s report. It’s your word against his, and the Bianchi name has deep pockets and deeper connections with the judicial system. We can file, but a judge will deny it.”
Punk nearly flies into a rage, and Luke threatens to arrest him to get him to settle down. Infuriated, but keeping a lid on it. Punk grabs mine and my sister’s hand and marches us out of the station, muttering curses at every officer in the building.
When we get back to headquarters, Punk escorts me inside like we’re going into battle. “Back the fuck up, all of you,” he yells at his brothers, making sure they give me a wide birth.
He snaps his fingers at me and points upstairs. “Shower. Now!”
Hades growls at Punk and the MC brothers, warning them to stay away from me. He clomps to my side and nudges me toward the stairs.
Mortified and pissed off, I stomp back to my suite and slam the door. I go right to my dresser, open the top drawer, and bury my weapon ofman’sdestructionbeneath my panties. It’s definitely going to come in handy one day.
After a thorough shower, I get dressed in some lounge pants and a fitted tee. I’ve got no plans, and I’m afraid to leave my suite in case I have any residual sex oil on me. I’m going over plans for Lloyd’s build this coming week and absently petting Hades when my mom comes busting into my suite with a trail of garment bags being hauled behind her.
“Doors open, come on in,” I chide, sitting up in my bed. “Whatcha got?”
My mom beams. “The bridesmaids’ dresses. The bridal boutique called to let me know my gown was in, so I picked up all the other dresses too. I already notified the girls; they’ll be in shortly.”
“The dresses are already done? Wow! That was super-fast. How is your mother of the bride dress? Did you try it on?”
“Yes, I tried it on. Fits perfectly.”
“Good. I’m glad.” I bite my lip, looking at my mom as she sorts out the garment bags. “Hey, mom?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re here.”
My mom pauses and stares at me with wide eyes. She blinks rapidly, her lips puckering like she’s trying to stop herself from crying.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a total bitch since you and dad arrived. I was hurt and I took my anger out on you harder than dad. When everything happened with Jacob, I assumed you would have understood me and been my biggest supporter since you’re my female role model. It hurt when I discovered I was wrong, but I want to move past it and start over.”
My mom pulls me into a hug and holds me. “I want that too. I love you, Jo.”
“I love you, too, mom. Oh, and I owe you the money for the extra bridesmaid gown. Simone’s going to be my maid of honor.”
Mom chokes and pulls me into another big hug. “Oh, I’m glad you girls are close again.”
We’re both waving our tears away as the girls enter the suite. Mom hands out the garment bags—Ebony’s two dresses and the other girls’ one dress. Simone goes in to use my bathroom to change, and Opal disappears across the hall to hers and Gauge’s suite. Ebony whips off her clothes in the center of my room—no shame at all—and opens the first garment bag.
She sighs, fingering the no-no corset dress. “I wish we were wearing these.” She opens the next bag and pulls out the official bridal gown. With a look of disgust, Ebony throws the dress over her head. She’s a real knockout in the gown, whether she likes it or not.
Opal comes running from across the hall. “Ladies, we have a problem.”
Opal stands in my sitting area wearing the no-no corset dress.
Aw, fuck!
Simone comes out of my bathroom. “Not that I don’t look killer in this dress, but I’m surprised you picked something this seductive, and mom was okay with it.” We all look at her, modeling the same no-no dress, with horrified expressions. “What? Is something wrong with it?”
Opal and Ebony look wide-eyed at me, and I look at my mom, who is trying to hold back the flood gates, but the damn is about to burst.
Mom breaks first—giant tears stream down her face and wails escape her throat. Simone runs to her and starts getting teary-eyed, too, having no clue what’s happening. Opal grabs her head, chanting, “Oh, my God,” over and over. Classic Ebony is laughing her ass off at the irony of the whole situation. And I’m trying to bring order back to the group.
How the fuck did this happen?
I honestly could care less if the girls wear the no-no dresses—they’re at least the emerald color I wanted—but I know my mom does. Meaning by default, I care.
