Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around her, hugging my sister tightly. Although it hadn’t been that long since I'd seen her, it felt like an eternity.
Being sequestered away at a convent for the last six months had made me feel so out of touch with everything I knew and loved.
And the few times we got together over those months during holiday visits hadn’t been nearly enough time.
When I pulled back, she gave me a resigned look, but I knew she wouldn’t press this anymore. If this wasn’t something I wanted, she knew I’d tell her.
I placed my hand on her rounded belly and gave her a soft smile. “Enough about me. How are you? How is my niece?”
Amara didn't hide her smile. She placed her hand right beside mine on her belly. “I don’t know who came up with the term morning sickness, but they’re full of shit. I wasn’t nearly this sick with Luca.”
“A man probably came up with the term,” I grumbled.
We both laughed.
Although she had exhaustion written on her face and laced in her voice, her happiness and excitement was still tangible.
“But I can’t wait to meet her. Luca is so excited he keeps coming up with different names.” She laughed softly and shook her head. “This week he wanted to name her Bluey.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but could assume it was from a children’s TV show
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I kind of like Bluey. Has a good ring to it.” Amara eyed me with skepticism but laughed.
“How did you know about all of this, to be here?”
She set the bag on the vanity and looked at my reflection in the mirror. “I didn't know about the arranged marriage until this morning when Nikolai told me we were going to the courthouse because you were eloping with Dmitry.” She started rifling through the bag.
I wondered if she knew about Fredo. I had to assume Dmitry hadn’t done it alone. I knew the Petrov brothers were thick as thieves.
“Told him that if you wanted out, there was no way I’d let this go through. He just laughed like he knew something I didn't.”
Yeah, that's probably because he knew everything. Dmitry and Nikolai were probably worse than gossiping old ladies talking over Sunday brunch.
She held out the bag that hung from her arm and gestured over to the sink. And then she pulled out a gorgeous white lace dress. I took it and ran my fingers over the material. Amara then pulled out her cosmetic bag and faced me.
“Listen, if you’re going to go through this, I’m gonna make damn sure you’re dolled up.”
I felt tears prick my eyes at how much I loved my sister. I didn’t want to admit to her I probably would’ve had zero problem getting married in my jeans and a holey T-shirt. This was more than lust or infatuation.
I’d loved this man before I even knew what that word was, before I knew how all-encompassing it was.
For the next ten minutes she helped me dress, put some light makeup on me, and even pulled out a Swarovski crystal hair barrette that I knew she’d worn for her own wedding.
She did a relaxed braid on the side of my temple, securing it with the barrette, and then grabbed my shoulders and gently turned me to face her. A tear tracked down her cheek, and I went to brush it away, feeling my own eyes water.
“Oh no,” she said and sniffed, wiping away her tears as if she was angry. “If you cry, it’s gonna mess up all the hard work I just did on your makeup.” We both laughed softly, and then Amara sobered. “I wish Mama was here to see this. I wish she was a better mother.”
That last part was whispered, as if maybe she didn’t mean to say it out loud. I didn’t respond verbally right away, just pulled my older sister in and gave her a tight hug. “Me too. But the only thing that matters is that you’re here.”
When we were composed enough, we headed back into the office, but it wasn’t with instant butterflies in my belly. No, I had this dread settling around me when I saw Dmitry and Gio facing off.
My brother and future husband were nose to nose, both of them so alpha they were spitting nails and butting heads without even saying one word.
I wasn’t surprised to see Gio, not when this was apparently a family reunion. Gio wore a crisp three-piece suit, the tattoos on his neck snaking up the collar of his button-down white shirt and showing who and what he really was.
A savage when need be.
The looks on their faces, the daggers they were throwing at the other just by the gazes in their eyes, had so much testosterone filling the room.