Page 67 of The Mafia's Bride

Lex’s kept me focused and enraged without needing them.

“Yea, well, you weren’t exactly making the case for my escape.”

“No, I wasn’t.” She nods, resolutely. “I needed you to be safe. Maeve did what she could to give you that security.”

We enter the boutique, the fresh smell of clipped tags and floral perfume assaulting my nose.

“I would have broken down the back door to get you out of there, Sloaney, if I thought this wasn’t a good choice for you. If I thought Alessio would truly hurt you, if I thought Maeve had made a horrible plan. I would have gotten you out of there.”

It hurt on my wedding to wish for my sister to help me and then to realize, I was out of luck.

I hate to admit it, but Collins saw something I didn’t. At least not right away.

Not that I truly understand it right now. But sauce night, lying next to Lex, has healed something inside my heart. Has pushed away the numbness better than any drink or mindless sex ever could. I feel seen with him, alive.

Grudgingly, I nod. “Please. There was no back exit, I checked.” I hear Collins’ laugh and mock glare at her. “Besides, do you really think Maeve standing at the only exit was a coincidence? She wanted to make sure I didn’t run.”

Collins stops next to me, holding up a pale pink scarf, considering it. “Oh no, we both knew you’d try something. Maeve said she wanted the best view, though.” When I shake my head at the scarf, she drops it. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, right? You’re in love.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growl, stalking toward the back room. “And stop picking such horrible pieces. You’re better than that.”

“Sloane,” she says, coming around the corner. She grabs my hand on the hanger. “It’s okay to admit it.”

She doesn’t understand how bad it is to do so.

If I admit to loving him, then I’m staying. Then I’m his completely.

Then he’s mine.

What if he wakes up one morning and doesn’t want me anymore?

Then I’m right back in this situation. Alone, abandoned, yet again.

“Anyway,” I drawl, clearing my throat. “How’s home? How’s Maeve?”

She gives me a curious look, surprised by the topic change. Not like I often ask about our oldest sister, but it’s been a while since I’ve heard from her.

“Intense.” She nods, letting me have this one. “Lots of changes. I’m worried about her.”

“Worried about our infamous sister?” I snort. “The same one that men cover their crotches when she walks by?"

"She’s in her office all the time.” She shrugs, tugging out another white shirt. I put it back for her. “I hear weird noises in there, like things being broken. She never opens her office door. It’s always closed. All the men have new duties. None of them will talk to me.”

Her brows furrow like she’s trying to figure out a hard puzzle. I’ll admit, it’s a strange turn of events but Collins always worries.

“You think she’s having a hard time, adjusting?”

“Maybe,” she says, brows furrowing. “It’s a lot of pressure to take on her role, to fill in for Pops. A lot of moving parts. Maybe the stress is getting to her?”

“Or maybe, she’s completely fine and you’re worried over nothing.” I roll my eyes, pulling a few glittery dresses. “You worry a lot about everyone except yourself. How are you?”

Collins tilts her head, pouting over the sales rack. “Now I’mreallyworried. Since when do you care about other people?”

“I care about other people.”

“Not unless you can take a body shot off of them,” she quips.

I hate how selfish she makes me sound. But she’s right. I’m not the best at taking care of others or caring about their emotions. It’s always been easier to just focus on myself.