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He grunts, and walks to the door, holding it open for me while I roll my eyes at him.But maybe I breathe a little deeper when I walk past him so I can sniff him inconspicuously.
Walking out to the lobby I stop by the front desk and hand Jorge, the security guy a glass Tupperware of cupcakes. “Thanks Mrs. Giordano.”
I almost stumble hearing my new last name but catch myself and grin awkwardly. God that felt so weird to hear. “Of course, Jorge. I hope you enjoy them.”
“Oh, we love your cupcakes, Mrs. G. Best cupcakes in town. You really should open up your own bakery. You’d be sold out in a New York Minute.”
Maksim pulls me away crudely by the arm before I can respond to the building’s lovely security guard. It's when we're outside that I can see the man I married seems to be fuming. “Well, that was rude.”
“No more cupcakes.” He barks.
“I know I said this before but,I beg your pardon?”
“Nobody else needs to talk about the way my wife'scupcakestaste.” He bites on the T and the low grumble in his voice is…
I hold the shiver that wants to scatter through my bones as I tilt my head back to look up at him. Eyes dark, jealousy flickering through them…Fuck.
“And you look fucking ridiculous.”
Nope, it's gone. All tingling has ceased to exist, I bite back my retort, inhaling as deeply as I can and then climb into the SUV, looking out the window. I mean, I know I may look a little silly, and I dofeelridiculous, but it’s forchildren,and I always wanted to be a fairy. Let’s be honest - Tinkerbell was an absolute rioting menace. We should all aspire to be a little more Tink, and a little less princess.
I barely have time to get through my mantra before we're shuffling out of the vehicle and surprise, surprise, the venue is at a golf resort in Long Island. As we enter through the side to bring in and begin to set up cupcakes, the wives get loud from their excitement, calling out my name and commenting on my fairy dress. It grates on my nerves a bit but I know they’re being nice. Only the younger wives, Samantha, the redhead, and Viviana, are dressed like princesses. Angie and Franny are dressed in pants suits.Though, they do wear crowns. I like it. It suits them.
I give Maksim a pointed look.See?But he only blinks back at me in annoyance and buggers off to do Very Important Things with the husbands. Probably schmooze whilst having a cigar while organizing the next mob undertaking or whatever it is his coven does.
I’ve only just learned (after sitting through a wives luncheon) that Angie is a gallerist in Brooklyn. Sammie is still a student at NYU, Vivi is a real estate agent, and Franny develops software for Very Important Companies.
Or so they say.
While Samantha Rossi truly is a student at NYU, she’s studying criminal law in order to be able to defend her husband and the other capos if ever need be.
Angie’s gallery is used as a way to do white collar crimes.
Viviana sells hide-out spots to crime lords under the guise of a realty company.
Francesca develops spyware disguised as software that is used to hack into large, unsuspecting companies.
I… bake.
The grounds of the golf course are overtaken by a small Ferris wheel, games, rides, little booths, and kiosks. Parker helps me set mine up. Vivi is beside me, putting up her face painting stand with dozens of stencils, sponges, and brushes on a white table.
“So, what's the money being raised for this going towards? I know it's for the hospital but-”
Vivi gives me a scrunch of her pert nose, and her left eye squints a bit. “Cancer ward.”
I put my hands on my sparkly hips. “Oh.”
Vivi nods, putting up a mirror so kids can see their little faces. “Angie doesn't talk about it much, but their oldest daughter, Gia, had cancer when she was just seven. She was in remission for a long time. Then all of a sudden - ovarian cancer.”
I didn't read that in the files Jonathan gave me. Probably because it's none of my business. “Is she okay now?”
“If you can define getting the chance to have children naturally taken away from you ‘okay,’ then yes. She's fine. She lives in Jersey. She's an art teacher at a private school. She'll be here later.” She says, tilting her head in a quick jerk toward the second barstool beside hers.
“Can't wait to meet her,” I smile.
From where we’re perched, I can hear car doors opening and closing, the sound of excited children and their parents yelling after them to not run in the busy parking lot. I do end up meeting Gia, but she’s incredibly quiet, reminding me of Raven in a way.The day goes by fast. I take pictures with kids and their parents. By the end of it all, I only have one cookie, and four cupcakes left.
At the end of the evening, after all the kids are gone, and all the kiosks, little tables, and tarps have been put away by staff, the wives and I go and get dressed in the locker room with the other wives. Inside of the venue is a gala to be hosted for all the Very Important People. Doctors, Surgeons, high-brow donors, etc....