My fears weren’t assuaged, but they were resigned at least. Feeling exhausted by the emotional roller coaster of the morning, I lay down for a while and rested. I didn’t want Iris to realize I’d been lying about having a migraine, so I pretended my headache was much better when she arrived to check on me.
She carried a black dress bag over her arm when she slipped through the door. “Can I get you anything? A glass of water?”
I lifted the one by the bed. “I just had a little water. I feel a lot better. What do you have there?”
“Oh, I was shopping while you were gone and I saw this dress,” she said excitedly. Iris had a soft spot for fashion and she spent a lot of time and Duran’s money at the shops downtown. “I picked it up for you to wear tonight. After all, it’s your first public outing as a married couple so you want to look perfect.”
I slipped from between the sheets and stood. “May I see it?”
Grinning with anticipation, Iris laid it over the bed and unzipped the bag and drew out a dress of silky blood red. “Alright, so Lucien is either going to love it or he’s going to make you go change,” she said. “Put it on to get the full effect.”
I sidled out of the dress I was wearing and Iris helped me slip into the red one. The waist was structured with a short corset and the bodice was padded with strapless cups that molded to my breasts and pushed them up. As I pulled it on, I realized it had an undergarment similar to panties sewn into the skirt. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. The gauzy skirt had two slits that ran up to my hipbones. I couldn’t have worn real panties underneath and I certainly couldn’t have forgone underwear unless I wanted to flash everyone when I walked.
“You look amazing,” Iris breathed. She ducked behind me and zipped up the back and arranged my hair over my shoulders.
I looked across the room at the mirror hanging by the door. She was right. In this dress, I was a queen, the kind of woman Lucien had urged me to be that night in Russia. Someone fearless enough to face my parents, to face my fears and uncertainty. A woman who deserved to walk on Lucien Esposito’s arm.
“Thank you, it’s perfect,” I said.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready. Iris wore a silky, beige dress with a lace back, a long slit up the side, and towering heels. She was breathtaking, as always. I did her hair, brushing it back into a sleek ponytail, and she did mine, straightening it and pinning in a low bun at the nape of my neck. She put light waves in my feathery bangs and I added a careful layer of red lipstick and it was time to go downstairs.
Duran stood at the bottom of the stairs, his brow cocked in appreciation as he took in Iris. She spun in a circle, almost losing her balance, and leaned forward to kiss him.
“How do you like my dress?” she asked.
He slapped her across the ass. “I like it. Easy access for later.”
“Duran!”
Iris pulled him away to the front hall, her face stern, but a smile playing around her mouth. A little hurt that my husband wasn’t waiting for me, I wandered into the living room, which was already set up beautifully for the party. Lucien was nowhere to be found. Several minutes passed and he still didn’t show, so I went to check the kitchen. It was deserted. I leaned on the counter, tapping the toe of my high heel idly against the floor. In the distance, the front door opened and the first guests began to arrive.
Feeling frustrated, I climbed up the stairs and headed toward our bedroom. Perhaps he was angrier than I’d thought he was and he didn’t want to see me. I had barely got more than ten steps up the stairwell when I heard my husband call my name.
Lucien stood at the bottom in a fitted black suit. He was so handsome, so deliciously ice cold and controlled I almost forgot we’d fought just hours ago. I wanted to put aside my hurt feelings and press against his hard body and kiss his neck, just above the crisp collar of his shirt.
He held out his hand and I descended the stairs. His brows rose a little at the sight of my naked legs and the strip of chiffon draped between my thighs and trailing behind me as I walked. He didn’t say anything as he took my hand and led me into the kitchen and shut the door with a soft click. For a moment, I just looked up at him, remembering what Iris had told me, wondering if he was the man I thought I married or if he was far more cold blooded than I had ever imagined.
This was a man who had killed his father, a man who even now planned to kill again. Perhaps it was Lucien’s coldness rubbing off on me, but the thought no longer bothered me as it had earlier. I studied him and he met my gaze, those hazel eyes dragging over my body, as lazy as the flick of his wrist when he tapped the ash from a cigarette.
It aroused me, the heartlessness of him.
“We’re not to arrive at dinner until Duran announces us,” he said, breaking the silence.
“Who’s going to be here?” I asked.
“Everyone.”
We were quiet for a long time until Duran put his head in and told us to follow him out into the dining room. My heart thudded, knowing who was waiting for us, knowing my parents and Romano would be there. Lucien stretched out his hand, palm up, and I placed my fingers across it. Then we followed Duran out into the hall.
There was a round of applause as we entered the room. Heart pumping, I skimmed the room, meeting my mother’s gaze for a second. An overwhelming desire to look away filled me, but I remembered Lucien’s words and kept my eyes on hers, staring her down. There was a long, intense moment as we passed her and then she lowered her eyes and a surge of heady triumph washed over me.
Coward. Manipulative, abusive coward.
Lucien paused before Romano, keeping me a step behind him. They shook hands and then Romano reached past him and took my hand, sending a shiver through me. The memory of his hand between my thighs was fresh and painful in my mind. I took a deep breath and lifted my eyes to him as he brushed his lips across my hand.
“Olivia Esposito,” he said. “You are stunning.”
“I know.”