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I knock on the door again, hearing whispers behind it, and when Sabrina opens the door, there the fucker is again - standing too close to her. He’s dressed casually: jeans, henley, boots. He looks cozy and she looks… my heart catches in my chest. She looks… fuck she looks good. Parker helps her into a pink faux fur coat, but before he covers her up, I get to see her ample chest in the dress she’s wearing, along with the long gloves that go over her elbow.
She doesn’t greet me, just inhales sharply and once we’re in the SUV, she turns toward the window, seemingly lost in thought.
I make eye contact with Niko in the rearview mirror, and he makes a face silently telling me to apologize again. And so, I try to… until she basically asks me to shut up so she can meditate, to mentally prepare herself because I… am nothing but an inconvenience to her. Ifeellike an inconvenience to her.
My eyes crash with Niko’s and he shrugs. I sit back in my seat and look out at the black water, the lights of the Brooklyn Bridge glittering against it, silently sending a prayer that this all goes well. Her thumbs are rolling over each other, eyes closed, lips moving rapidly as though she’s also chanting a prayer to whatever god she worships, if any.
We park. Niko opens my door, I slide out, and as soon as her hand lands in mine and her pink heels touch the ground, her eyes open, her lips part, and her brilliant smile stops my heart.
She looks like…magic. Like I was transported back in time, and I’m looking at a silver-screen star walking on the red carpet to a premiere. The cameras flash, and her eyes blink slowly. I have to touch her. I have to make sure she’s real. I slip my hand to the small of her back and lead her to the entrance, to the hostess to take our coats. I stand beside her to help her out of hers.
I take this moment to inhale her scent as I take off her coat. The creaminess of her skin seems to glow under the lighting, and I’m so tempted to touch… to see if it’s as soft as it looks. But I keep my hands to myself, only letting them drop to the small of her back, as I lead her through the casino toward the back where the restaurant is, where everyone is most likely waiting for us.
“I was hoping to give you a rundown on everyone here tonight earlier at your house and then in the car while we were on our way here, so you had time to ask questions but-”
“I graduated high school with my associates degree, survived Rayne-Moore University and passed my bar exam the first time I took it. Just give me the rundown and then leave me the fuck alone for the rest of the evening unless it’s absolutely necessary for you to speak to me. I saw the list you sent Lily. I'll see you on our wedding day after this.” She says under her breath.
“Fine. Samantha, the redhead, is married to Vincenzo Rossi. She is twenty years younger than him and only one year older than his eldest daughter.”
“That's atrocious.”
“Don't talk about that because she was his eldest daughter’s best friend.”
“Okay, I lovethattrope in books.” She mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing!” She says with a broad smile. “Who else?”
“Next is Viviana, brunette, uh, large chest, she's married to Bernardino Bianchi. She's in her early thirties.”
“BiBi and Vivi. Got it. Next.”
“Angelina, blonde, married to Lorenzo Albertini. Whatever you do, don't look at her face for too long. She had a face lift recently and it… doesn't look right. Very uncanny valley.”
She hums as we pass the threshold to the restaurant.
“Francesca, also blonde but only has weird lips, is married to Angelo Gallo.”
She huffs at my description ofFranny. “Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Samantha Rossi, redhead. Vivi Bianchi with huge titties, Angie Albertini drinks martinis and Franny Gallo's gots new lips,” she sings softly then peeks over her shoulder at me. “Anything else?”
I let myself get lost in the different shades of green and dashes of gold in her eyes for a moment. “That's it,” I reply as we reach the table where they're waiting for us.
“Maksim!” Angelina is the first to see us, standing to greet me like we're family. In a way, we are. She was my mother's best friend, and I grew up with her being something of an aunt to me. The husk in her Long Island accent doesn't match the youth in her face. I go to receive the kiss she plants on my cheek, doing my best not to wipe away the excess lipstick with the back of my hand. “And who is this?” She asks in Italian, holding her hand out to the blonde bombshell beside me.
“My future wife, Sabrina Winters,” I introduce to the table.
“Hello, Miss Angie, Maksim has told me so much about you.”
Angie's dark eyebrows that don't match her hair rise to her forehead, “Well all good things, I hope!”
“Oh, yes ma'am, he told me you organize a quarterly drive for the children's hospital in Long Island. I'd very much love to know more about that. Oh, and Mrs. Rossi, congratulations on the nuptials, you'll have to tell me who helped plan your wedding, Maksim showed me pictures and I justadoredthe venue. Oh and Miss Francesca, congratulations on your new grandchild, a boy, was it?”
Franny, also surprised, seems to glow under the reminder she just became a grandmother for thethirteenthtime.