Page 19 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

Franny, also surprised, seems to glow under the reminder she just became a grandmother for the thirteenth time.

“Oh, I'd love to see pictures when you have a moment. Also, I'm not sure if Maksim told you but we are needing a flower girl or two, he said you have two granddaughters? Victoria and Vanessa - am I correct?”

“Ah, yes, yes that's correct.” Franny replies, nodding, already glowing under Sabrina’s spell.

“Oh that's lovely. I hope you don't mind us borrowing them but, well, it is going to be such a special day for us and, I mean, if you don’t mind, we would love it if you could help us?”

Francesca looks all too happy to be included in the wedding somehow, looking around the table at the wives and then back to Sabrina. “I'll let their mothers know.”

“You are too wonderful, Franny, thank you.” Sabrina turns to face the last woman.

“And Vivian, it is so nice to meet you, Maksim also told me you're about to be a grandmother for the first time, tell me, boy or girl?” she asks as I pull a chair out for her, and she takes her seat. “Thank you, darling.”

She says darling as if she’s said it a million times before. Like it’s so fucking easy for her to use a term of endearment when it comes to me. Like it’s simply second nature.

Vivian seems to bristle under excitement about getting to talk about her upcoming grandchild, and I stare in awe at the woman beside me as I take my seat. I told her absolutely fucking nothing other than the superficial shit, and when she told me to give her the rundown, she was only humoring me.

“ What kind of wife would I be if I didn't put my feelings aside and make my husband look good?”

What kind of husband will I be? She can’t stand my presence. Can barely look at me. I doubt she’ll want me at important social gatherings she’ll have to attend. Will she go without me?

I don’t like the way the bottom of my heart frowns at that question.

The men around the table seem to watch the women instantly fall in love with the fresh meat I've thrown in their direction as they talk over one another and soon, small giggles are heard as they're reaching over the table to ask about her ring, if she can remove the glove so they can see.

When she does, I wince at the pink burn marring her pale skin.

I want to reach out and take it and press my lips to it. To kiss it better. To take back the pain I caused…

“Oh, Sabrina, what happened?” They ask and my heart thunders loudly.

“Oh,” she laughs “I'm so clumsy. I was wearing my fuzzy socks while dancing in my kitchen, waiting on the timer, but these specific socks didn't have any grip. I slipped, caught myself on the edge, but the tips of my fingers also caught my coffee and well…” she sighs as if to say that’s that, then brings her hands together like she’s saying a prayer and continues with, “But Maksim was such a darling. Cleaned up the mess, helped me clean it, ice it, and then put ointment on it for me. My Maksi …” She turns, scrunches her nose in my direction and puts her gloved hand in mine.

I take it, running my fingers along her silk covered ones.

“Always taking such great care of me, after he scolds me of course,” she laughs with a shake of her head, and the ladies laugh with her.

They turn in my direction with adoration in their eyes, falling in love with the idea of Maksim and Sabrina.

What the fuck. The lies this woman can spout so easily. Too easily. The conversation continues to flow as the waiters make their way to us, taking our orders and filing out.

With the women gabbing, Lorenzo leans over to me. “You found a good one, Capo.”

I shrug, watching as Sabrina once again lets the women Ohh and Ahh at her pink diamond. Before shoving the glove back on.

“You said you slipped in the kitchen? Do you cook?” Francesca Asks.

“She's my little baker.” I grin and Sabrina flushes a cute little pink. “Just the other day she made these amazing strawberry-lemon cupcakes. It was the perfect amount of sweet and tart. The frosting on top had… What was it, Cara Mia?”

“Swiss meringue.” She answers with an adoring smile. I can't tell if it's real or fake. I hate that.

“I ate four in a row,” I say honestly. “I devoured them. Gone.” I make a sweeping motion with my hand and keep my gaze on my fiancé before saying, “Unfortunately, my beautiful fiancé was already in bed” I don’t specify whether it was my or her bed, “otherwise, I’d have asked her to bake more.

But she’s a hardworking woman. She needs her beauty rest.”

More adoration between the wives, I swear their eyes have never sparkled this much while looking my way.

“Oh, Sabrina, you and I should talk more about you baking for the next drive.” Angie replies.

All too soon, our plates come out, everyone with their classic Italian dishes and my fiancé chose salmon with a Greek salad.

I stare at it, and she stares at my baked ziti.

I quirk a brow, but instead of asking for a bite of mine like a real couple would, she digs into her plate - protein first. She does a little dance in her seat, and I feel the corner of my lips tug up involuntarily at the little hint of happiness.

“Hungry?”

“ Starving ,” she replies. And under her breath she mutters, “my appetite was ruined this morning.”

The girls break out into more conversation, more laughter, even the men are included, and she has them all charmed, all of them eating out of the palm of her little gloved hand.

“Oh, my Maksi this ” and “ my Maksi that-” they eat it the fuck up.

She makes me sound like I should be a runner for a Nobel Prize, telling exaggerated stories of our visits to England, how much her mother ‘ just adores’ me.

She has them all captivated, impressed, laughing…

she even looks relaxed even though the tension around her eyes says otherwise. I doubt they see it.

My future bride is the epitome of a beautiful liar.

We finish our meals and head downstairs through my private entrance to the elevator, but when she sees we'll all be riding down the elevator together, she fumbles in her footsteps just a bit… just enough fo r me to notice the way her chest rises and falls, and her nose flares for a twitch.

I let my hand slip from her elbow down to her hand and I tug her to me, whirling her around so her little hand, heavy with my catered-to-her ring lands on my chest. I lower my lips to below her ear.

Her floral scent invades my senses, and I let myself believe that she’s actually in love with me.

That we’re a real couple. That every little story she told tonight happened exactly as she said, and not the truth.

That I’m the fucking villain.

I’m the nightmare in each one of her lies.

“Relax…” I whisper, and hang back for just a moment, letting the hand in hers slide up to the small of her back. One of her arms immediately goes up to the nape of my neck, the other to my chest. “Incline your head to me a hair… that’s it. Now it looks like we’re kissing.”

The women in the elevator squeal in excitement when Sabrina lets out a moan.

It’s not from me kissing her, it’s from invading her space, being too close.

A shiver shifts through her and I can feel how delicate it is, as though she’s holding it back, keeping it inside for herself.

Containing it like she contains everything else from the public eye.

I take pride that she can’t hide it from me. Not when I'm this close to her.

The doors to my private elevator close and she shoves me off.

She’s visibly trembling, panting, holding one hand to the soft swell of her stomach, the small pouch there I want to lay my hand on, and feel her womanly everything . So soft and feminine, and my heart stops with one look into her glossy eyes.

“I… need a moment,” she breathes, her shaking recedes into nothing but small vibrations. Did I do that? Did I help? My stomach flips at the thought that maybe… maybe I did. Maybe I’m not such an asshole. Maybe I can make it better.

The flip in my stomach turns into a weird pain that crawls and nestles into the bottom corner of my heart when I realize I want to be the one that makes it better.

“Sabrina -” I croak.

“I just don’t want them to also think your future wife is… weak.” she says softly and looks away from me before clearing her throat. “I won’t take but a moment. I just… need to prepare. Is that alright?”

I nod.

Sea-green glassy eyes filled with unshed tears of momentary panic crash with mine again. “Will it be louder down there?”

“Much,” I hear myself rasp. I shouldn’t have said that in a decibel where she could hear it.

I shouldn’t have said it at all.Because for the first time, I can see those invisible demons dancing behind her eyes.

I can see her will to fight them is so… so strong .

She wants to run, she wants to leave and never come back.

She takes a shaky breath, her gloved hands smoothing down the front of her black dress. She blinks at the ground, then nods once curtly while exhaling. “Thank God Parker put clear earplugs in my clutch.”

Of course he did.

She opens the tiny thing, fishes one out and then the other, shoving them in while her eyes are closed, then snaps it shut. Her eyes find mine, and soon we’re in the elevator, a foot apart. But when the doors open, her shoulders square back, and her chin is high, and The Smile is back.

I shake my head, not letting myself fixate on whatever is happening in my chest, only focusing on the night ahead.

This event is one I usually take pride in.

The money goes to twenty different boxing clubs around all of New York City.

I step into the ring and take the microphone to begin my announcements, thanking everyone for purchasing tickets and for their donations.

Letting them know their contributions have helped us raise over a hundred and twelve thousand dollars.