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“What’s new?” I ask, sliding into the seat she gestures to.
Flicking out a black cape, she wraps it around me, clipping it in place at the back of my neck. “Same old. Same old. Sucking cock, fixing hair.”
I laugh.
Trixie is five-foot-nothing with a severe blond bob and could run a marathon in six-inch stilettos and still win. She’s a hairdresser by day, working at one of the salons the family uses for money laundering, and finishes her evenings under the care of my father; as she so poetically put it, sucking cock.
She’s also, unbeknownst to my family, my best friend. Befriending a paid girl would be beneath my standing. Trixie and I both know it, so we pretend we are hairdresser and client. I have my hair styled numerous times a week, and she takes her sweet-ass time blow-drying my thick waves to give us as much time as possible.
Running her fingers through my hair, Trixie leans down. “Okay, fill me in. What happened?”
“Well, he’s dead.” I meet her eyes in the mirror.
“I know that part, bitch. He hasn’t come in for a blowy in days. Rumors are flying like wildfire among the other girls. But I’m talking about the fact that you’re still alive. Are they still making you marry Salvatore?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Trix, I was the last person to see Berto alive.”
“Before Tony killed him?”
I drop my eyes. “Tony went up after I came down. Berto was already dead when he arrived.”
I cautiously bring my eyes back up, seeking her gaze. A split second passes when doubt hits her eyes. She shakes it away, but I see it. The consideration of whether I had it in me to kill Roberto Ferrari.
“Does Lorenzo know what happened? That is fucked up, Bianca.”
“No one else was there,” I assure her. “Or if they were, I didn’t see them. But Trix, if someone elsewasthere—”
“They’d know that you didn’t sleep with Roberto. They’d know that you weren’t in love with him and were there to undermine the family.”
I nod.
Tony and I haven’t even spoken of this. We’ve both ignored the reality that someone else could know intimate details of our plan. That our scheme to sabotage Lorenzo’s direct orders could be used against us and cost us our lives.
Hands to my shoulders, she stares at my reflection, worry creasing her made-up face. “You look positively wrecked. Understandably. What is their plan with you if not Salvatore?”
“I’m now promised to Vincent.”
She grimaces. “Roberto’s brother? The enforcer?”
“Consigliere now,” I confirm. “He’s moved into Roberto’s role.”
“Bianca,” she voices with worry. “What if he finds out you set a plan in motion to have his brother killed? Whether it came to fruition or not, you aimed to push his brother into death.”
“I know.” I close my eyes, letting the panic of the past twenty-four hours release on a shaky exhale. “Papa is so fucking mad at me. The only reason I was allowed to keep this appointment is because I’m getting married tomorrow.”
Trixie looks ready to cry, and I feel tears well up in my eyes.
“Berto was worse,” she laments, her small hands squeezing my shoulders in an offer of reassurance.
“It doesn’t matter which one is worse. They were brothers, and I had plans to have one of them killed.” I whisper the words as quietly as I can.
I twist the engagement band on my finger, squeezing my hand closed to force the stone to cut into my palm.
Trixie ushers me over to the basin, making sure I’m comfortable before thoroughly soaking my hair.
“What’s he like?” I ask, the fear in my voice cracking along each word. “You know, at the club?”
She pauses. “I wouldn’t know. He doesn’t pay for sex, not through Caruso’s club anyway.”
