“Great. Living the dream,” I deadpanned, and Alicia laughed behind her hand.
Beth huffed and joined us at the sinks. “I’m sorry you’re going through all of this.” She wet her fingers and ran them over the stray hairs falling from her elaborate updo.
“I’m sure.” I crossed my arms and leaned my ass against the edge of the wet countertop. “I bet every night you lie awake wondering how I’m doing with my husband being locked up.”
She rubbed her bare lips together, taking a minute before she answered. “I told—”
“You so. I told you so. There it is.”
Beth’s palms smacked the counter, making water splatter the front of her dress. “What do you want me to say, Sasha? You knew what you were getting yourself into. Now’s the time to face facts and make some changes. I’m here—”
“To what? Save me?” I scoffed and closed the distance between us. “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need anyone to fucking save me. What I need is for you to stay the hell out of my way.”
“You’re throwing your life away for a criminal!” she shouted. Her eyes darted behind me, and her practiced, socially appropriate mask fell into place as she squared her shoulders. “Sasha, I worry about you and just want the best for you.”
“The ridiculous part is, I believe you.” I shook my head, the anger seeping out of me. Beth meant well, but she had no idea who I was or what I was capable of. “Come on, Alicia.”
I pulled open the door and ran smack into Daphne Dukas—soon to be Daphne Chronis—as she pushed into the posh bathroom.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered as I stepped aside to let her fully enter, catching Frankie’s eye as the heavy door silently shut.
“Sasha,” she said my name like it was a four-letter word.
“Daphne. Have a good—”
“We need to talk.” She looked at the women behind me as I took another step toward the door.
“No, we don’t. In fact, you should probably stay the fuck away from me.”
Her head snapped my way, and she glared down at me from her impressive height. “Is that a threat?”
I just smiled and waltzed out of the bathroom, Alicia slipping through the door as it closed.
Frankie stepped up to us, scanning my body as if something could’ve gone wrong in the three seconds I was out of sight. “Marco wants you to meet some people.” He gently cupped my elbow and guided me away from the bathroom and all the assholes inside.
“Great. Let’s socialize.”
Frankie grunted, and I glanced at him. A bold script G peeked out of the collar of his shirt, catching my eye. “New tattoo?”
“Mhm.”
“They say hand, neck, and face tats mean you’ve given up on traditional employment. No desk jobs in your future?”
Frankie gave me a bland look as he delivered me to Marco. As soon as I was safe in a circle of important people, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to the boring wolves.
I smiled prettily as I met alderperson after alderperson. Everyone was polite, but there was an edge of discomfort to the conversations. And why wouldn’t there be? When Joan Banks moved on to her next small-talk victim, I swayed into Marco. “Any more local politicians?”
“I’d usually touch base with the mayor, but—” I backhanded his stomach. “I’m having a sit down with Nikos and Alex Chronis in about twenty minutes. But before that—”
“Marco Moretti!” A deep voice with a Spanish accent called from behind us.
“Ah, Benny!” Marco met the man halfway, and they hugged, slapping each other on the back. “Where’s Natalia?”
“She stayed home. Her mother wasn’t feeling well, and you know Talia.”
“Of course. Family comes first.” Marco gestured for me to join them. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. This is Sasha Moretti, Luca’s wife. Sasha, this is Benjamin Pérez, our South American contact.”
Benjamin’s dark gaze swept over me, a handsome smile lighting his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who brought down the Butcher.”