Page 14 of Malicious Marriage (Mafia Lords of Sin #9)

CLOVER

“ A re you sure about this?” My voice carries past the dressmaker and past the curtain to where Dean waits patiently on the other side to see me in the dress he’s acquired for me.

A few days ago, when he invited me to this gala, I said yes because it was the opportunity I needed to push him toward the wedding, and it was exciting.

It wasn’t until he left that I realized I didn’t have a gala-worthy dress, and the only decent one I had was one he’d already seen me in.

I spent most of the night in a panic trying to find a dress that looked expensive within my terrible budget.

Dean was my savior the next morning, texting me to tell me not to worry. He’d have a dressmaker waiting on the night of the gala with several dresses for me to choose from as an apology for inviting me to the gala so close to the event.

An apology.

What kind of man apologizes for something like that? He’s such an incredible gentleman.

After trying on four dresses, only one fit me well enough to be comfortable, and while the dressmaker never said anything, I could see it in her eyes.

She’s not used to dressing people as big as me.

In fact, I bet plus-sized women are never seen in her designs and it shows with how her smile doesn’t meet her eyes as she adjusts the fabric around my waist.

Maybe this is a mistake.

The longer this takes, the hotter I get. While the light blue dress is beautiful, it’s not my first choice. It calls so much attention to me when I’m very much a black and dark-color girl.

“Breathe in for me, dear,” the dressmaker says as she tightens the bodice once more.

“I am breathing in,” I say as warmth rushes to my cheeks. The dressmaker pauses and then she chuckles.

“Of course, my mistake.”

At least she’s polite about it. Shopping in department stores, I’m more used to women as skinny as my thigh telling me that they don’t carry my size while sneering at me like I’m dirt on their shoe. Wealth obviously makes people hide their judgments behind those smiles.

Well, mostly.

My uncle never hid his distaste for my size even as a child and his cruel comments spin around the forefront of my mind as I think about how to walk down those stairs on Dean’s arm and not make a fool of myself.

Dean Savoy. The most handsome man I’ve ever met, who’s so kind that he’s buying me a dress to show me off, and all I can think about is how to apply extra powder to my thighs so they don’t rub together.

“Alright, dear!” The dressmaker appears in front of me with a wide smile. “You’re done! I’d just be careful what you eat tonight as the adjustments I’ve made to the bodice are secure but…” She glances briefly down at my stomach. “I wouldn’t put it to the test, okay?”

I’m so speechless that she’s able to scoot right out of the dressing room before I can reply. Did she really just say that to me?

Turning, I face the mirror and press my hand to my chest to ease the rapid way my heart flies beneath my ribs.

The dress is a gorgeous sky blue with silver gems weaving in an arc from the swell of my breasts down to my waist, where they scatter across the skirt of the dress like falling stars across a lit sky.

It truly is a beautiful dress and I do look beautiful.

So why do I feel like a frump squashed into something too beautiful for my fat frame and about to attend a sleepover of skinny college girls?

My face flushes hotter and hotter so I close my eyes and fan myself, fighting to keep tears of shame at bay. I shouldn’t be ashamed, and mostly, I’m not, but suddenly, the thought of being on display in front of so many people makes me feel sick.

Suddenly, cool air washes over me and I open my eyes. Dean stands in front of me with a soft smile, directing airflow from a handheld fan at me.

“Sorry, I should have knocked but it’s a curtain and I was worried when you didn’t come out after the dressmaker. You looked flushed. Are you alright?”

He’s looking at me so earnestly and I get the impression that if I told him the truth about the dressmaker, he would absolutely do something about it.

But causing strife isn’t worth it. I have to focus on why I’m here and who I’m doing this for.

“I’m okay.” I force a smile. “I was just contemplating the disaster of Dean Savoy walking down those stairs with a fat girl on his arm. Surely, you’ve got enough scandals to deal with!” It’s meant to be a joke, and I do my best to throw it out there as one, but Dean doesn’t laugh.

His gaze slowly moves down me, which makes my hot flush amp up by several degrees, and when his eyes return to mine, I’m about to melt.

“Honestly, your size has never crossed my mind other than in my quiet admiration of your beauty, Clover. And I’m not saying that just to appease you.

What you look like doesn’t define you as a person, but it does define the people who treat you differently because of it.

I think you look absolutely stunning and I am beyond honored that you will be on my arm as we walk down those stairs.

I can’t think of anyone more beautiful who deserves to be shown to the world than you.

And not just because you’re doing me a huge favor.

” He leans closer, and to my utter shock, he presses a very light kiss to my hot cheek.

“You are stunning, Clover. And everyone should see it.”

“Wow,” I gasp, unable to look him in the eye. “What a pep talk!”

And it works. A surge of renewed confidence warms my chest. By the time I apply the final dabs of makeup and head for the grand staircase in the hotel leading down to the gala, I feel amazing.

Dean is right. I am beautiful, and at the very least, I need to make sure we sell this engagement to anyone who might question it.

Once Dean gets what he wants, it’ll be much easier for me to get what I want.

The gala is incredible. In all my years, I’ve never seen a place decorated in such finery.

Everything glitters like diamonds and I lose track of how many crystal animal sculptures we pass.

Dean tells me that each sculpture will be auctioned off to raise money for the animal charity, as well as a few well-placed words to make those with the deepest pockets donate the most for the social points it will grant them.

This entire thing seems like a game to him and he navigates it with ease.

My father, while powerful and rich, was never in the same bracket as the Savoys, although few can say they are.

The Savoys are elite in terms of wealth and stature, and it’s very clear as we wander the party and meet everyone he needs to appease.

It further cements my belief that Dean can never find out I’m lying to him.

Every single vulture in here would descend on his throat the second they learned he was doing something as shameful as marrying a disowned woman.

Stature and reputation are almost more important than the zeros in your bank accounts.

“Do you think people are buying it?” I ask quietly as we pause for drinks after two loops of the gala hall.

“Your looking absolutely beautiful is selling it.” Dean smiles over the rim of his glass. “People can’t take their eyes off you and I don’t blame them.”

“Oh, please, if anything, it’s the cute puppies on all those banners that people can’t take their eyes off.”

“Maybe.” Dean tilts his head, clearly not believing me. “People will donate without much argument when it comes to animals, but to have that kind of compassion for people? Unheard of.”

“I’m not surprised.” Glancing around, everyone is so clearly in competition with one another over who is richer, who is more powerful, and whose product is of a higher quality. I can’t imagine anyone here having compassion for their fellow man.

“Are you okay?” Dean places his hand on my arm. “We can take a break if you need?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. I’m just a bit sad that my sister wasn’t able to make it, that’s all.”

Dean’s brow pinches. “I’m sorry about that. Did she tell you why?”

My heart rate picks up slightly. “No, actually. She never got back to me. It’s… really strange.”

Dean leans closer. “Are you worried? Do you want me to look into it?”

I’m about to reply when a man and a woman sweep past giggling loudly.

“Dean!” The man bellows. “How good to see you. What a fantastic party you’ve thrown.

And this must be your gorgeous fiancée, Clover.

What a vision you are!” He snatches my hand and kisses my knuckles while the woman I presume to be his wife glances down at me with an uneasy smile.

“What a beautiful dress,” she says. “Is that a Llewyn dress?”

“Yes,” Dean answers quickly. “She’s a good friend.”

“I had no idea she dressed—” The woman catches herself quickly. “Uh, such short notice, I mean. She told me she was booked for the season.”

“What can I say? She knows how to spend her time well,” I reply smoothly despite the frantic fluttering of my heart.

“Indeed,” the woman replies stiffly.

“Forgive my wife,” the man says, leaning forward. “Actually, Clover, you’re a Byrne, right? I’m actually good friends with your uncle. I’m Terrance. Terrance Bigsby. Has he mentioned me?”

Suddenly, all eyes are on me and I freeze completely. I have no idea who this man is, and since I’ve been cut out of the family for four years, my knowledge of my uncle’s dealings are minimal.

“Come to think of it,” Terrance says thoughtfully, “I don’t remember him mentioning a niece.”

My heart drops.

Shit .