Page 27

O livia

B y the time my twenty-first birthday comes around, I’m excited about my party.

My mother doesn’t apologize for plowing ahead with her plans for a grand event, but she checks in with me about the choice of canapes and flowers.

It’s her way of smoothing things over with me because apologies just don’t happen in my family.

As we drive to the Madeline, the flagship hotel in the Reznov Bratva’s considerable property portfolio, I take a moment to admire Piotr.

For once, he’s wearing a white shirt rather than his signature black.

Despite the searing summer heat, he’s got a jacket and tie on in deference to my mother’s strict dress code.

My gown probably won’t meet with her approval.

A sapphire blue that brings out the color of my eyes, it’s a simple beaded sheath dress with a slit that goes all the way to my thigh and a neckline that shows the swell of my breasts.

It’s held up by thin straps that Piotr will no doubt tear apart later when he rushes to get me out of the dress.

He told me before we left our apartment that’s what he intended to do.

My hair is slicked back in a low ponytail and my makeup screams femme fatale. This is my party, after all, and I intend to ensure everyone knows who their new queen is.

When we pull up outside the hotel, Piotr doesn’t get straight out of the car.

“I want to give you your present before we go in,” he says.

“You already gave me this.” I touch the diamond necklace encircling my throat.

“That’s a mere accessory.” He speaks as if it didn’t cost more than most people earn in ten years. I have to admit I’m delighted there’s another present. Diamonds are nice, but I’m not a huge fan of jewelry. I only wear it because it’s expected of me. “This is the actual gift.”

“Your phone?” I tease, as he pulls it out of his pocket.

“No, smartass.” He opens his photo app and passes the phone to me. “This is.”

My jaw practically hits my knee as I stare at the image on the phone. It’s a large house, set in a beautiful garden.

“I know this place. It’s in Westport.”

Piotr nods. “I thought you’d like somewhere near your family’s place.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’ll have to redecorate,” he tells me, as if that’s some sort of hardship. “The previous owners haven’t updated it in thirty years.”

“This is amazing.” I can’t believe he bought me a house. I lean over to kiss him, but he backs away. “It’s not all. Look at the next photo.”

I flick to the next image and gasp. A cute fluffy white face looks back at me. “You bought me a puppy?”

“Not yet. There’s a litter of Westies available and I thought you’d like to choose one. We’re going to see them on Sunday.”

I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He listened when I told him what would make me happiest. It was such an inconsequential conversation I didn’t think he’d remember it.

“You really do love me, don’t you?” I ask.

“Of course I do.” Piotr brushes my cheek with his knuckles. “How could I not?”

For once, I don’t come back at him with a sassy but self-deprecating comment. Instead, I revel in knowing this incredible man loves me.

A minute passes and then Piotr clears his throat. “We should go in. Everyone is waiting for the guest of honor.”

Piotr gets out of the car first and waits patiently while I slide across the seat.

He takes my hand to help me. The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, people call my name and photographers jostle each other in their attempts to get the best shot of me and Piotr.

It’s been a while since the paparazzi have shown any interest in me, but my marriage to a powerful businessman and reputed mobster has put me back in the public eye.

We don’t stop to pose for pictures. Piotr wraps a protective arm around my shoulder and hurries me into the hotel. As we enter the ballroom, the band stops playing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the singer announces. “Please put your hands together for our guest of honor, Mrs. Olivia Reznov.”

I wince, not because he addressed me incorrectly, but because I didn’t want to make such a grand entrance. Now that I’m the focus of attention, I smile and nod gracefully, like a beauty pageant contestant as everyone applauds. As Piotr leads me across the room, the fuss gradually dies down.

Dozens of people greet me, wishing me a happy birthday.

Instead of gifts, I’ve asked for donations to Giulia’s charity, a community center that helps women and kids from Mafia families.

It wasn’t intended to bridge the gap between Matteo’s wife and me, but it’s had that effect, anyway.

Giulia and I have met up several times over the last week to discuss how she’ll use the money.

We’ve known each other all my life, but this is the first time we’ve acted like friends.

The ballroom is beautifully decorated with flowers in pinks and creams. There’s no ice sculpture, thank goodness, but photographs of me through the years play in a loop on a massive screen. My mother rushes toward me, an anxious expression on her face.

“What do you think, Olivia?”

“It’s perfect, Mamma.” I bend to kiss her cheek.

“Not too much?”

“No, it’s wonderful.”

Taking my words as the peace offering they were meant to be, she visibly relaxes.

“Where’s Boris?” Piotr asks.

“He’s with Lara.”

I’ve only met Boris’s goddaughter once, but she seemed like a sweet girl.

“There seems to be some tension between them.” My mother lowers her voice to avoid being overheard. “I think it’s over some boy.”

“Ah,” Piotr grimaces. “Then I’ll leave them to their discussion.”

“Don’t you want to step in and do your big, bad Pakhan thing?” I tease.

“Not on this occasion. Lara is my uncle’s responsibility, not mine.” He seems relieved about that. “Come on, let’s say hello to your brothers’ wives.”

Leaving my mother to mingle with other guests, Piotr and I walk to the table on the edge of the dance floor where my sisters-in-law are all sitting.

He greets them politely as he pulls out a chair and helps me to sit.

Then he excuses himself to go to the bar where my brothers are standing, keeping watch over everyone.

“You look amazing,” Isabella says.

“Thank you. So do you.” I glance around the table. While Isabella is in a classic black dress, Giulia has opted for a shimming silver gown and Emilia is wearing blue. “Where’s Vinnie?”

“Leo made her stay home. She’s sick.”

“I think she’s pregnant,” Isabella says.

“Of course she is,” Emilia agrees. “At least four months, though they’re not admitting to anything yet.”

“I suppose they want to keep it to themselves for a while. You know what my mother will be like when she finds out.”

Emilia nods. “Perhaps I can distract her with my news.”

“You’re pregnant?” I grin as she nods her confirmation.

“Three months today.”

“I am so happy for you,” Isabella says. “Antonio and I are hoping to be pregnant soon.”

“It’s going to be baby central around here.” I can’t decide if this will take the heat off me or if my mother will nag me to join the baby club. I look across the table. “Giulia? Anything to add?”

She shakes her head, and a strand of her vivid purple hair flops over her face. “I’ve only been married a week longer than you have.”

“Tell that to my mother. The woman’s a nightmare when it comes to babies.”

“When the time comes, you’ll be glad of her help,” Isabella says. “You’re the only one of us who has a mom to support you.”

Shit, that’s true. Isabella hasn’t forgiven her mother for not trying to contact her when Antonio sent her into exile.

Giulia, Emilia, and Vinnie all lost their mothers when they were kids.

I suppose, on reflection, I am lucky. My mother can be a pain in the ass, but she’ll probably be an incredible grandmother.

“So how’s married life?” Emilia asks as Isabella and Giulia chat about something else.

“It’s good, but I wish I was more experienced. I feel incredibly na?ve around Piotr.”

Emilia nods. “I was the same with Alessandro. I didn’t know what I didn’t know until he taught me.”

“Piotr’s great, but I keep thinking I’m going to do something wrong and he’ll think I’m an idiot.” I lower my voice. “I mean, I know about sex, but reading about it isn’t the same as doing it.”

Emilia smiles, and I’m glad she seems to understand where I’m coming from. We can’t continue the conversation, however, as my aunt Angelia slides onto the seat next to me. My mother’s younger sister is usually fun to be around. She married an outsider, so isn’t bound by the rules of our world

“Livvy, you look stunning, sweetheart.”

I accept the compliment with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’d be a lot better if my daughter wasn’t trying to give me a stroke.”

“Why? What’s up with Alessia?”

“She’s marrying Dante Parisi.”

“What?” I can’t contain my surprise. “But she thinks he’s an asshole.”

My aunt nods. “Which is why I can’t understand it. Perhaps you could speak to her. Find out what she’s thinking.”

“Yeah, okay. Where is she?”

“Ladies’ room, but she can wait. Tell me what that gorgeous man gave you for your birthday.”

“This.” I point to the necklace.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” she gushes.

“He also gave me a house in Westport and he’s buying me a puppy.”

Angela gives a low whistle. “He’s a keeper.”

“Yes, he is.” I look up and spot Alessia coming into the room. “Ah, there’s that cousin of mine. I’ll see what I can find out.”

I follow Alessia across the room, grabbing a couple of glasses of Prosecco from a waiter as I pass him.

“Here.” I thrust a glass at Alessia as I finally catch up to her close to the exit. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thank you.” She takes the glass and downs its contents in a single gulp.

“What’s this I hear about you and Dante Parisi?”

“My mom told you?”

“Yes, she’s really confused about it.”

Alessia pinches the bridge of her nose. “My father lost everything. Mom doesn’t know.”

“Fuck! Alessia, that’s awful.”