Page 68 of The Mafia's Bride

After using Danica, it might not be the best strategy anymore. I still feel guilty about that.

“I can care about my favorite sister.”

Collins smiles sadly. “Don’t say things like that. But I’m fine.”

That’s the most I’ll get out of her because Collins is always just fine. The perfect, dutiful daughter, who never asks for help, who never says no, who always helps others.

When she was told as a child she had cancer, she was fine. She was fine after chemotherapy. She was fine the night before her very scary surgery. She was fine after when they told her she’d most likely never be a mother.

With a flourish, I flip my hair over my shoulder, holding two slinky dresses in front of my sister. “Anyway, I think you need some color in your wardrobe. Pink always looks fantastic on you. Maybe hot pink. Which one?”

Rolling her eyes, Collins points to the pale pink dress, glaring at me.

“Fantastic. Try it on.” I shove it into her chest before she can object, turning this conversation and our shared trauma into something productive.

I might not be able to mentally handle my problems, but I can certainly handle my sister’s horrible fashion sense.

I follow her to the back, slapping her hand when she tries to grab a drab looking pair of pants and a skirt that goes to her ankle.

“One more thing,” she says, the studious saint turning into a devil before my eyes. “Loving Lex can be a really great thing. Great for you, for him. From what I understand, love is a hard thing to come by.”

“And if it’s not love?”

She sticks her tongue out at me. “It is. You forget I know you, Sloaney. Always have. You can have happiness, and you don’t have to find it at the bottom of a bottle or in those little pills you find at clubs.”

Point for her.

“I don’t need a man to be happy,” I remind her. “No one does.”

“No, but love can make you happy. You deserve love, Sloaney.”

The curtain snaps shut, leaving me to my thoughts.

Know-it-all big sisters are the worst.

I partways with Collins in front of the parking garage where she left her pearly white Benz in. A birthday present from Pops, she’s had a new one every year until his recent death.

Pops didn’t give me the same choice, forcing me to use his driver as a show of his status. Because the daughter who got the most attention was the greatest way to flaunt his wealth. At least I did something right for him.

I pull out my phone, waiting for Lex’s driver to swing by to get me.

He offered to wait at the main street, down the alleyway, where people walked by, oblivious to their surroundings. I decided to let Collins drive me into the city and opted to call him when I was ready to go home.

I skim social media before checking messages and the local news. Somehow, I don’t have a new message from Danica, or even a direct message online.

It’s like she vanished.

God, I hope Lex didn’t kill her.

I wasn’t lying when I told Lex I’d never forgive him. Danica was a shit friend, an okay hookup, but I still didn’t want her dead. Not even if my husband and sister both made good points that she wasn’t the best for me.

I call for the driver.

My thoughts drift from Danica’s whereabouts to the man responsible for her radio silence as I wait.

Seeing Lex with his family dug up a want so visceral in my heart that it’s been hard to fight against. Knowing this family—his family,myfamily—was there, ready to accept me is indescribable. I’m noteven accepted by my own. Seeing how everyone laughed together, the gentle jokes, made me want it too much to ignore.

Not to mention my feelings for Lex himself.