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Olivia laughs and pokes her sister, and Dominik combats her aggression with another kiss. Holding both of them, our future, in his strong arms, he looks like the king of the world.
Well, he’s the king ofmyworld, anyway, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.
The End.
PREVIEW OF TWINS FOR THE MAFIA BOSS
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JUNE
“It wasinsane. He actually asked me if he could suck on my toes for a hundred dollars,” she says, struggling not to laugh as she tries to get the words out in a cohesive manner. She’s clearly had enough to drink, but knowing Samira, she isn’t going to let anyone stand in her way of a brutal hangover.
The sun is beginning to set over the Viareggio coastline, and the last remaining streams of light cast a halo over Samira’s hair as she speaks. We all listen intently as we sip our drinks, watching her talk with her hands as if she’s reliving the experience right in front of us.
We’ve been in Italy for four days now, and it’s been the most intense vacation I’ve ever taken. I’ve only been to two other countries, France and Ireland, and that was the courtesy of my father’s workplace when I was growing up. I don’t feel like I really got the chance to experience either place when I was a girl, so I’ve been taking in as much of Italy as I can while I’m here.
There are four other women here with me – Samira, Angela, Grace, and Priya. It was Samira’s idea to come here, and we saved up for a year to make it happen. It feels surreal to finally be here after spending so much time looking at photos online.
Samira is the one who has been leading the charge for the entire time we’ve been here. It’s easy for her to do because she’s a meticulous planner who obsesses over the finest details of everything. Had she not been the person who was coordinating the trip, I probably wouldn’t have even come at all.
If someone else had taken over, we would have gotten off the plane without so much as a hotel booked in advance. Sleeping in a McDonald’s lobby might seem like a crazy adventure in hindsight, but it’s not the way I’d want to spend a vacation.
So, as crazy as she is,thank Godfor Samira.
“So, I mean... what did you do?” Grace asks hesitantly. She’s one of the more reserved, almost prudish women in the group, and watching her squirm at Samira’s story is giving me a juicy sense of satisfaction. She wants to know just as much as the rest of us, perhaps more.
“I mean, I let him do it, obviously. It actually felt pretty nice, I won’t lie. I never saw him again, though. He ended up making some comments about his ex-wife that skeeved me out a lot, so I blocked him,” Samira replies, rolling her eyes at the memory as she takes a long sip of her Manhattan.
I try not to giggle to myself at the mental image of it all. Samira is a beautiful woman, enviably thin with curves in all the right places and flaxen blonde hair that rolls over her shoulders in waves. I want to be jealous of her, but at the end of the day, I realize that she puts a hell of a lot more effort into her appearance than I would ever be willing. She’s the type to spend an hour and a half at the gym six days a week, maintain a regular skincare routine for morningandnight, and get all of her clothes tailored to fit her body and her body alone.
I’m not quite as high maintenance, though I sometimes wonder what I would look like if I were. There’s a window near us at the outdoor bar, and I periodically glance at myself to see my reflection. I have no issue with the way I look, but I know that I would probably attract quite a bit more attention from men if I justtrieda little.
My mother always emphasized to me that beauty shouldn’t be the first thing that draws a man to you if he’s worth having at all. He should approach you because he likes the way you command a conversation or the way your laugh lights up a room.
Putting too much effort into your appearance just draws men of all varieties and qualities who want to have a prize to show off. As soon as you have a baby, start getting wrinkles, or get sick, your husband will leave you for the tight little college girl down the street.
I would stillliketo be attractive to someone, though.
“Grace, you really need to get laid. I can see it in your posture,” remarks Priya, a ceramics artist from Brooklyn who can pull off any color on the planet. She’s also beautiful but in a more down-to-earth way than Samira. She and I would be more likely to share clothes, but they would look better on her.
Grace scoffs. “I would rather stick hot needles in my eyes than date any man that’s approached me in the past two years. They’re all the same. None of them have jobs, they all live with their parents, and at least half of them have kids from some woman that has a restraining order against him.”
She slams the rest of her strawberry margarita as the last bits of sun disappear behind the horizon. The string lights that span the area of the outdoor bar turn on, and suddenly I feel like I’m right in the middle of a foreign romance film. I’m holding a glass of wine in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, basking in the low light as it hits my face perfectly.
“June, who was that guy you were talking to for a while? The one who ended up having warrants?” Grace asks with a devious smile on her face.
“It wasn’t like he was dealing drugs or anything,” I reply with a hint of irritation. For someone with so little life experience, Grace sure does like to bring up everyone else’s low points. She just hasn’t had hers yet, and I struggle to imagine what it will be. Hopefully, something that brings her down a few pegs.
Right before we left for Italy, I was dating a guy named Zeke, who worked in finance. My mother was overjoyed that I had found someone with such a high-paying, stable job, so I stuck it out far longer than I should have.
Zeke ended up being an entitled, sociopathic man-child who expected me to do his laundry and cook him meals after the second time I visited his apartment. For someone who has so much money, he refused to take me out and always insisted that we split the bill when we ordered in. I felt like he treated me like one of his buddies when I knew for a fact that he bought his ex a Tiffany tennis bracelet.
“Okay, okay, I know. I just thought the whole thing was really interesting. I’d never use those apps for dating, personally,” she replies in her snide, holier-than-thou tone that she takes on when she gets a little too tipsy. Personally, I think that’s how she always is, but alcohol gives her the bravado to unleash it in its full power.
“Oh my god, do you see that guy over there? Kind of in the corner of the patio?” Priya whispers, motioning over to a lone man at the edge of the bar with her eyes.
It’s no wonder that he caught her attention. He’s the kind of man that you would describe as beautiful rather than handsome.
