She jumped a little and turned, blinking up at me. I frowned, taking her chin in my fingers to study her face. Her dark eyes were a little bleary.
“How much did you drink?”
She lifted the glass of golden champagne, the enormous ring on her finger catching the light. “Just two glasses.”
“That’s a lot for someone of your size,” I said, gently prying her fingers off the glass. “Perhaps we’d better take you home before dinner.”
She stared after the glass as I handed it back to the bartender. I slipped my arm around her body and ushered her gently toward the door. On the way out, I pulled aside one of the serving girls and told her to let Romano know that Olivia was feeling sick and I was bringing her home.
She allowed me to help her into the Tesla and buckle her seat belt. Kneeling, I lifted her upper eyelid to check if her pupils were dilated and she pulled back, frowning.
“What are you doing?”
“Are you feeling tipsy? Or more than that?”
She sighed, looking a little better as she settled into her seat. “I’m just tired and a bit buzzed. I feel better now that I’m outside and I got some fresh air.”
I studied her until she grew uncomfortable and looked away, her fingers twisting in her lap. Her eyes were a little puffy and red, but I wasn’t sure if that was from drinking or something else.
“Can you stop looking at me? I’m fine, really,” she said quietly.
I nodded and circled the car, settling into the driver’s seat. She was quiet on the way home and when I pulled up to the house, the light fell across her face. She was asleep, her chest rising and falling peacefully. I carried her up the stairs and laid her fully clothed onto the bed.
God, she was beautiful. I was fucked if I thought I wasn’t going to fall for this woman.
Chapter Six
Olivia
Winter
Months passed in the Esposito mansion without anything eventful happening. Lucien was polite and distant with me. We ate dinner together, fulfilled our social duties as a couple, but when the night came, he walked me to my door and left me there with only an absent caress across my back or hand. When I came downstairs for breakfast, he was always gone and he never returned to the mansion for lunch.
A few weeks after my arrival, Duran surprised everyone by meeting a young woman at one of Lucien’s resorts and marrying her after just six months. Lucien was astounded, confiding in me that he never imagined anyone could convince his wild brother to settle down.
It didn’t confuse me; Iris was easy to like and we became friends almost instantly. She was a little reserved, intelligent, and kinder to me than I was used to. I was flattered and surprised when she asked me to be her bridesmaid. A few weeks later, I decided to ask her to be mine. Knowing that I had at least one person in my wedding that I liked made the whole prospect less bleak.
Iris made living at the Esposito mansion bearable. We shopped, worked in the garden, and cooked together. It was with a pang of sadness that I stood at Lucien’s side and waved goodbye as they embarked on their month-long honeymoon in Cairo, Egypt.
Then it was just Lucien and I and it would remain so for the next five weeks. Lucien spent even more time at his office. Apparently there was a delivery of something coming in via the river that required his constant attention. His work must have paid off around mid-November, because he came home visibly relaxed and we had dinner in his study that night. Before I went to bed, he tapped me under the chin and brushed a bit of my hair back. That little bit of affection was enough to keep me going for a while.
It was pathetic, but isolation did strange things to my head.
A week before the wedding, I stood in my room while the seamstress pinned my dress. Outside, it was already snowing lightly over the water and a light dusting of white stuck to the frozen ground. We would have a winter wedding, at Lucien’s insistence, although I’d expressed to him that I wanted a spring, outdoor wedding. But Lucien said that wouldn’t be suitable for an underboss and I knew it wasn’t any use arguing with him.
I looked up at my reflection. The dress I’d chosen was beautiful and perfect for a winter wedding. The bodice clung to my breasts, traces of cleavage showing above the V neckline. The skirt was heavy satin that draped around me in an elegant swirl and the long sleeves were gauze with lace patterns like snowflakes over my skin.
I was beautiful and I wondered briefly if Lucien would think so when he saw me walk up the aisle. Or would he be coolly indifferent as he always was?
There was a soft knock at the door and I jumped. The seamstress looked up questioningly and I stepped down from the stool and crossed the room, cocking my head to the door to listen.
“Who is it?” I called.
“Lucien.”
Since the night of the party, he’d hadn’t come to my room unless he was dropping me off for the night. I frowned, my stomach fluttering with nerves. Was something wrong?
“I’m in my wedding dress, I can’t come out,” I said. “Is everything alright?”