My phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked down at the screen.
T: She’s all yours. Bitch bit me.
Hell, it was going to be a long ass night.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Sicilian Mafia Rule #5: Never look at the wives of friends. Ever.
Mo
TEX DISAPPEARED FOR MOST of the morning and afternoon. By the time the scents of dinner started floating through the house I was ready to lock the door to my room and stay there.
My plan had been simple; cause him to react in any way possible. He’d reacted all right, just not the way I suspected. He almost ripped the table apart with his bare hands and I’m pretty sure at one point contemplated stabbing Sergio with a butter knife. But that was it.
I let out a breath and slouched in my big chair, staring at myself in the mirror.
It was time for plan two.
Make him want.
Wearing that white bikini was out of the question, but maybe wearing a short dress wasn’t? I knew we’d said our goodbyes but part of me wondered what would happen if I just fought for him? What if I fought for us? I had to try right? Isn’t that what wives do for their husbands? They fight until they have nothing left. And I was going to do the same thing. If only I could convince him that I’d follow him anywhere, do anything to be with him. Even if it meant moving back to Sicily, even if it meant leaving my blood.
A loud knock interrupted my thoughts as two heads poked around the door. Trace and Mil.
They both wore wide grins.
“What?” My eyes narrowed as I crossed my arms. “You guys look suspicious.”
Laughing they tumbled into my room. Not a care in the world those girls, either that or they hid their fear well. The dinner wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“So.” Mil fluffed her hair in the mirror while Trace walked over to the bed and sat. “We’re going to make you look amazing.”
“You mean I don’t look amazing now?” I gasped pulling at my New York Giants t-shirt.
“Tex hates the Giants.” Mil laughed.
“I know.” Grinning I looked down. “Thought he might enjoy a little teasing this morning.”
“Yeah, and that ended well.” Trace said from the bed.
“Hey!” I threw a pillow at her. “When Nixon was mean to you, who helped you?”
“Um, not you?” She caught the pillow. “On account that you had five billion secrets and refused to tell me any of them.”
I waved her off. “Excuses.”
“He’s an ass.” Mil pointed out. “You still want him?”
I licked my lips and looked down at my clenched hands. “He gave me one hour…” My shoulders tensed. “Then another two to say goodbye… we slept together and that was it.”
“Bastard,” Mil hissed, while Trace’s eyes watered with tears on my behalf.
“It’s fine.” I lied. “He’s only doing what he thinks is right.”
“Which is probably wrong.” Mil’s eyebrows arched. “You know, since he’s male and all.”
“So very, very, true,” Trace agreed.
“So.” Mil rubbed her hands together. “We’re going to put you in a sexy black dress, stiletto heels, and bust out the bright red stripper lipstick that Chase never lets me wear on account that I remind him of strippers.”
“Takes one to know one.” Trace held up her hand for a high five.
“I’ll take that.” Mil slapped it.
I rolled my eyes and stayed put. “I don’t really feel like getting all dressed up only to get rejected in front of my family.”
“Chin up.” Mil smiled. “Chase does it every day.”
As both girls started walking toward me I knew I had no option but to concede and let them help.
Maybe, just maybe it would work.
****
An hour later, and I was pretty sure Mil was under the impression that hair spray was used to keep everything in place, not just hair. I was like a walking dome of aerosol as I straightened my dress in the mirror and looked at my kohl-lined eyes.
They’d given me bright red lipstick, a smoky eye, and teased my hair until it begged for mercy. Yeah strippers had nothing on me right now.
My dress was officially so short I was afraid to pick up something off the floor lest I give one of the older associates a stroke, and my Michael Kors heels made me almost six feet tall, a relative giant.
A knock.
It was the girls. They said they’d come back for me, more like threatened that if I tried to sneak through the window they’d just track me down and bring me back. I knew they would too. It was Mil and Trace.
“Ready?” Mil peeked around the door and grinned saucily. “Damn girl, you clean up well.”
Trace winked and pushed the door open wider. Both of them had tight cocktail dresses on that weren’t nearly as short as mine. Mil’s was a strapless plain dress in navy blue, paired with taupe heels and Trace wore a white halter dress with red heels.
Apparently I was the only Vegas stripper in the group. Fantastic.
“Come on.” Mil held out her hand. “Family’s already starting to arrive, and Chase is in the kitchen freaking out over the shrimp.”
“Of course he is.” I gripped her hand and followed both girls down the hall towards the laughter and smells.
Chase was in the kitchen, chugging wine from one hand and stirring something with the other. His apron was splattered with something yellow and he looked a little drunk.