Twinkling lights overhead shine like dozens of stars against a black ceiling, covered in gauze and silk. With white curtains framing the edges, garlands of blush pink roses and white calla lilies, and the gleaming wooden floors underneath, the air reeks of elegance and class.
It better. I worked hard for a week straight, on very little sleep between a new marriage, realizing I love my husband and dealing with Danica’s bullshit, to make it into such a thing.
My eyes scan the room. Unfortunately, the carpet in the back is a bit dated, but I can’t change that. I’ve already asked.
People mill about, taking in the thin, glass display cases of the priceless items that litter the large dance floor. A band on the stage is playing classical but upbeat music and the bartenders are making the signature drink I decided on a whim, just days ago.
A Blushing Whiskey looks cute in a short glass, the pale pink matching many of the dresses and purses donated. It’s also a call back to my wedding, the pale pink the same color as my flower bouquet and bridesmaid dresses. Nico said this was a way to show an alliance, so I figured what better way than reminding them of the wedding that brought this together? Standing in the center of the room, my pink Versace satin sheath dress is a bright spot against the dull walls and black accents. I feel like a star among the people, oohing and awing over the piece.
My hand touches the new cross at my neck, a small gold one that mirrors the one from my mother. This one holds so much more meaning than hers ever did because it’s from Lex. I know this came from love instead of the childish fantasy that it might hold love for a woman long gone.
I know I should be considering my actions with Danica, but I’m not worried. Last I checked, the men saw her get on the plane, her bags already loaded, to take her back home to England.
Good riddance.
I keep looking out into the crowd, looking for my husband. He still hadn’t shown up yet, but the night is young. He said he had business to deal with—my sister’s business. And although he told me about his meetings with her, he couldn’t give me more information than that.
Not because he didn’t want to. But because Maeve didn’t want me involved.
Just knowing my husband was offended on my behalf, eases the sting that my sister still doesn’t trust me.
Maria and a few of the aunts are in the corner, laughing over glasses of wine; a surly one even raised her glass to me with her wine-stained lips, a gesture of approval that has my chest puffing out. Nico is at the opposite wall, greeting other men in dark suits with firm handshakes and curt nods. All part of the family, the organization or other outfits, I’m sure.
He’s always been charismatic. Lex gets that from him.
Collins rushes over to my side, her cinnamon hair curled down her back, the Dior belted mid-length dress crisp white and conservative. But the bright red lipstick makes the glow in her cheeks bright and her green eyes pop behind her glasses.
I crush her into a hug, impressed even with the small heels she wore. She wore makeup and heels. She’s trying for my big night.
“You look amazing,” I breathe, inhaling her unique, sweet scent. I saw her a few times this week but this feels different. After cutting ties with Danica, and forcing her out of the city, I missed my sister.
The same sister who tried to pull me from that parasite and I didn’t listen.
God, I was so stupid for fighting her. Collins saw something I couldn’t see. Again.
“You look amazing.” She returns, holding me at arm’s length. She scans me over, tapping my nose affectionately. “You look happy, Sloaney.”
Unable to resist, I smile wider. “I am. Probably for the first time ever.”
“And no wine in sight.”
“Later.” I shrug. “I have an auction to run and a husband to find.”
Collins gives me a loving look, understanding me in ways I’ve never allowed, wrapping her arm through mine. Turning together, we inspect the crowd, which is now a mob, fawning over the details I put together.
I did this. All of this. Pride warms my chest, and that smile grows even bigger.
“You did good, kid,” Maeve says from my left.
Collins and I look over, both shocked at her arrival and at her outfit.
The Dolce and Gabbana dress is made from lace and tulle, sinfully black and downright scandalous for my oldest sister. It goes to her collarbone, solid around her top and bottom but everything else? Completely see-through.
And the matching cherry red heels and leather jacket? Damn.
My mouth drops open, but Collins saves us both by agreeing. “She did. Nico was just telling me how all this was her work.”
Maeve raises the glass of champagne, blood red lips staining the edge. “I know. When Nico mentioned the auction, I told him Sloane had a knack for fashion.” Her green kohl-lined eyes glance to me and away. “You didn’t disappoint.”
She noticed?
I thought Lex told Nico about my fashion. I didn’t know it was Maeve. Shock drops my mouth, but the praise, the understanding that my big sister knew something about me and put my name forward, has my cheeks glowing and mind spinning.
“Thanks,” I reply quietly, basking in her words. When I notice her eyes trained on a man across the way, I tilt my head. “Hot date?”
Maeve starts but quickly recovers, a soft smile drifting across her face. “Something like that.”
“What’s his name?”
“Reese.” She blushes a fine pink.
The man in question stops to look at a Chanel suit, dark navy suit pressed with clean lines. His dark tie sits snug around his neck, his polished black hair and brown skin warm under the string lights. He smiles at an elderly couple, gallantly moving out of their way like a gentleman.
When his eyes fall to my sister, he smiles happily. Oh. Oh. He’s got it bad.
“He seems nice,” I say innocently.
Maeve rolls her eyes. “He is nice.”
She’s going to eat him alive. Maeve never dates. I always assumed she killed them before they made it past the front door like a female praying mantis.
Maeve drops her glass on to a passing waiter’s empty tray. When she looks back at me, her cool eyes rake over my pink dress, down to my white shoes, taking in my frame as if to look for weaknesses.
Not weaknesses, no. Injury. She’s making sure I’m not hurt. She’s always been checking to see if I’m hurt.
When she looks back to my face, she smiles. Gently, carefully, she brushes our grandmother’s pearls in my ears. “Is he taking care of you?”
“He is,” I confirm, twisting my hands, remembering how she raged at my mugging. How she cared about my safety. “Lex always puts me first.”
Maeve nods once, biting her bottom lip. She opens her mouth but it shuts, like a fish. Finally, she says simply, “I knew he would.”
Collins’ hip checks me tenderly as I stare dumbly at my retreating sister, watching the man take her hand and pull her to another display.
I rear on Collins, eyes wide. “She complimented me. She acts like she cares. When did that happen?” I say, gesturing to the new couple. “I’m gone for a few weeks and she becomes a completely new person.”
Collins puts up her hands. “Or, maybe, she’s always been this way, and you’ve been too self-centered to appreciate it?”
Glaring, I cross my arms. “Whatever. I’m not here to be psychoanalyzed, Doc. Lighten up, have another drink.”
I shove a passing glass of champagne into her hand and watch as she looks over her shoulder.
Right to where Hayes leans against the dark bar, Killian hunkered into the corner, nursing a glass of something amber.
Haye’s brown locks are pulled into their typical bun, his leather jacket replaced with a black tux that seems sculpted for him. Every muscle, tendon, chiseled bit of flesh is on full display. He’s a woman’s wet dream, wrapped into the perfect package with the biggest blue eyes. Probably a few men too.
And Hayes only has eyes for Collins.
“Something I should know?” I ask carefully, fighting the smile off my face.
Collins glances to me and pushes the rim further up her nose. “No. Nothing to know.”
Grabbing my hand, she squeezes it once. “I’m going to mingle. You should do the same. I think there are a lot of people here who would like to know the event planner.”
With that, my sister takes off to the bar, leaving me in the center of an overflowing floor.
I listen to the buzz of the room, but unlike the other times where I wanted it to drift over me and take me away into a sea of fun numbness, fight back the bleakness, I just listen. The small talk, the gasps over the piece’s beauty, the compliments to the passed appetizers and crafted drinks. It’s freeing and enlightening, and unlike the numbness from a night out, this is a different kind of high.
Happiness wraps me into a cocoon of warmth and ease. I see my sisters in different spots, talking to men who clearly make them smile. It soothes that little bit of pain at being sent away. The pain at being left out. The pain of being overlooked or shoved away like they could hide me in a closet and never see me again.
I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Maeve for taking away my choice. How could I? But I can’t deny that where I am, right now, is better than where I would have put myself.
Maybe Collins was right. Everything they did, everything they do, is for me.
A warm hand on my shoulder has me pivoting, ready to come face to face with my absent husband. I have the urge to throw my hands around him, sink into his amber and spicy scent, let his strong hands carry me away and to also give him a strong tongue lashing for being late.
Only it’s not him. It’s Dom.
He smiles wide, corners of his mouth crinkling as his mud brown eyes flicker with an emotion I’ve never seen before. Lust.
I shift. That’s not something I want to see on a cousin’s face.
Stepping back, I try to keep a barrier between us. He’s dressed to impress, his dark suit from my wedding catching the lights overhead, his form filling it out. I’m all for recycling fashion but it’s too much for an auction.
He raises the signature drink up high, his fingers biting into the sides of the glass with too much strength. He’s holding himself back. “Thought you might need one.”
I smile gratefully, trying to shake off the unease. Something about this doesn’t feel right, but it could be nerves.
Smiling softly, I take the glass.
