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She shakes her head furiously. “No, no. It’s not about what you wear, it’s how you wear it. Take what you have on now. Sweet, tight enough to be hot, but the dress is wearing you. You need to wear the dress.”
“You sound like a bad Instagram caption.”
She snorts. “How would you know?”
“Touché.”
“Just call me when it’s time to get dressed for the big meet-cute. Don’t let your mamá dress you again.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me,sorella.I’ll keep digging into your man, you go find out when your date is, kay?”
“Kay.”
“You know, if you want a true deep dive, we could ask Vix.”
“Absolutely not.” A chill runs over me. She’s a sister to one of the brutal Bratva men we’d had on my list. The whole Volotov family reminds me of a cross between a vampire and a viking, alliteration not intended, but now I’m wondering if that’s intentional. Only they’re way more deadly than either of those. “I can’t believe you’re friends with her.”
“Friends is a giant leap. I just admire her hacking skills, so I have actually tried talking to her a few times.”
“We don’t need her hacking into my husband.Futurehusband…at least not yet.”
“Got it.”
We hang up and I head down the stairs. Mamá is practically floating around the kitchen with glee. I guess the brunch really did go well. If there’d been any dissatisfaction among the men, she would’ve picked up on it and then immediately come to me with notes on how to improve.
“Mamá, is Papá still here?”
“Sí, bonita.But in his office.” She says in warning. I know better than to just barge in like when I was a child, but her old habits live on. If the door is closed, it’s also probably locked, and we are not to disturb whomever is inside. His office door is partially open, meaning I can knock.
“Papá?”
“Eleanna, come!” He calls. I walk in to see him sitting at his huge wood desk in the middle of the large room lined with shelves of books and antique weapons. Four men surround him but I focus on his face and force myself to block out all the others. He smiles at me. “I was just going to tell your mother. The senator is headed back to Washington later this week.” My shoulders begin to slump, assuming it’ll be more than a week’s time before we can move to the next step. “So you’ll come with me to the governor’s mansion tomorrow. Some luncheon to save the whales or penguins or something. The two of you willmeetthere.”
My shoulders want to ram up into my ears, but I stay still. Tomorrow! But, a luncheon? That sounds lame, even to me, the woman recently accused of sitting home to knit.
“Tell your mamá, make sure you have everything you need and are ready to leave at eleven.” He turns his attention from me, until he realizes I’m frozen in the doorway. “That’s all,princesa.”
“Thank you, Papá.” I say out of habit and turn to leave.
I walk down the hall in a stupor. I put a hand up to touch my neck, a nervous habit I need to break. Being around Papá’s guards always rattles me but soon I’ll be out of here altogether. No moresoldados.No more of his stare, his lurking around.
Tomorrow.
I just need to focus on tomorrow.
Can Iwear hot as a mindsetto a luncheon at the governor’s mansion? Surely not. What would one of his gorgeous willowy dates wear? A tight dress? A long dress, but low cut? Should I find that one pair of Spanx I have? I have great legs and a proportional chest, but my butt is, well, not proportional. So maybe the Spanx.
No.
Stop it, Ellie.
I don’t need to be a supermodel or hot or taller, thinner, tighter.
I am going to be myself.
Those women may have been his past, but as of today, I’m his future.
