“Eh, there’s something to be said for having good raw material to work with.” I reach across the seat to take her hand. It’s gratifying when she doesn’t pull away—and even more so when she turns her hand to wrap her fingers around mine.
Careful. Red flags wave in my head like mad, while Dad’s voice all but screams. Don’t blur the lines. She’s who she is. You know who you are. This wouldn’t end well.
No. It wouldn’t.
But at this moment, a breath away from climbing from the limo, it feels damn good. Better than anything has in a long time.
Chapter Twenty - Delilah
It’s insane, but no less true: I feel like Cinderella right now. This is my official Cinderella moment. It didn’t happen the way a girl dreams it will—not even close, not anywhere near it—but I’m here just the same.
Luca gets out of the car and walks around to my side. Beyond my door is a red carpet, an actual red carpet for God’s sake, leading up a set of wide steps and the archway of flowers beyond. The house makes Luca’s look cute in comparison, but this is more than a house. I heard him refer to it as a compound when we ate dinner with Vincent last night. That word fits better.
The door opens and a hand appears. “Ready?” Luca asks, waiting for me.
No. I am not ready. Especially after all the awful things he said.
But he also said nice things. Sweet, kind things. I’m not under any illusions. He has to make sure I don’t badmouth him tonight.
Still… it seemed like he meant it when he tried to make up. I guess it isn’t easy for men like him to apologize. It doesn’t let him off the hook, but it’s something to keep in mind.
Ugh. I’m making as many excuses for him as I do for my sister.
The thought of her shakes me out of my fog of fear. I place my hand in Luca’s and step out of the car. There are so many people, and they’re all dressed up like we are. Women wearing diamonds in their hair, on their hands, around their necks.
They’re not the people demanding my attention as we walk up the steps, though. It’s the armed guards. No, they’re not walking around with guns drawn or anything like that. I’ve spent enough time around them over the past ten days to know the difference between a guard and a partygoer, is all. Even the guys who aren’t standing at attention, hands folded behind them, stick out like sore thumbs. The tuxedo-wearing men whose heads are on swivels, eyes darting around, are just as obvious. At least, they are to me.
But they make me feel safer, even if I don’t know what I need saving from. Who would stage an attack at an engagement party? Maybe I don’t need to be asking myself questions like that right now. I’m nervous enough.
Strangely, when I wrap my arm around Luca’s, I feel better. Calmer. Our eyes meet and he offers a brief smile. “You’ll be great. And you’re already ten times more beautiful than any woman I’ve seen so far.”
“Let’s be fair. I’m also half the age of the women we’ve seen so far.” His laughter is nice. It melts the rest of the ice in my stomach. I can almost believe he didn’t hurt me in the car. Words can sting just as much as the hardest slap.
They must’ve spent a mint on this party. The inside of the house is striking enough on its own, all marble floors and crystal chandeliers, but the addition of what seems like hundreds of candles and millions of flowers has turned it into something magical. They hang in thick garlands, draped along the walls, down the banister of the sweeping staircase, across tables covered in champagne flutes.
“Wow.” I didn’t mean it to come out, and it’s only loud enough for Luca to hear, but he squeezes my arm a little in response before leading me deeper into the thick crowd.
“I’d like to find Paul,” he murmurs, looking around. I look around, too, even though I don’t have the first idea who I’m searching for. I’ve never seen the man’s face.
But there’s a cluster of people in the next room, and the conversation over there is louder and more boisterous than anywhere else. “Is he over there?” I ask, pointing in that direction.
Sure enough, he nods, and we start off. “Constanza is on his right,” he murmurs, and I notice a small, dark-haired woman wearing a radiant smile. “That’s Natalia on his left.” Yes, and she looks overjoyed and starry-eyed and generally the way a girl should when all these people came out to celebrate her engagement.
Or so they’d say if questioned. I wonder how many of these people are here for the same reason we are.
Paul Giordano is a tall, dark, broad-shouldered giant of a man. He can easily see over the heads of everyone around him, meaning it’s easy to spot us approaching. “Luca Bruno!” he calls out, smiling wide. I don’t know how much of it is put on for show and how much is sincere.
“Mr. Giordano,” Luca calls out in response. The crowd around the family parts to make room for us. I think I’m going to pee myself. Everybody’s looking at me.
“What’s this Mr. Giordano stuff? It’s Paul. You know that.” The men shake hands while Constanza smiles at me in acknowledgment. “And who is this lovely young woman?” Paul asks.
“Let me introduce you to Delilah Jones.” He didn’t call me Deanna. Interesting. I mean, it makes things less confusing. I guess that’s how he thinks of me. “Delilah, this is Mr. Paul Giordano. His lovely wife, Constanza,” he adds, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You’re looking younger every day, by the way.”
“Oh, you,” she chides with a gentle laugh. “I’m the mother of the bride. That’s proof enough of my age.”
“I refuse to believe it. You must’ve been a child yourself when she was born.” He winks at her and she laughs again. Damn it, he can be charming when he wants to.
“Delilah.” Natalia extends a hand. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m Natalia, and this is my fiancé, Ignacio.” She leans against a tall, lanky guy who looks like he’d rather not be wearing a tux. I’ve never seen anybody look more uncomfortable. But he smiles down at her with real love in his eyes, and she’s obviously head over heels.