“Thanks.” I take the drink gratefully. “I definitely can.”
“I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now. Talk about an overwhelming twenty-hour hours. If there is something I can do to help, just ask.” She squeezes my hand, her eyes shining with kindness I don’t deserve.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I flash her a watery smile. “It has been crazy. I don’t think I’ve absorbed it all yet.”
“I know how insane this all is, but Daniil is a really solid guy. Yes, he’s a swinging dick like all the Kozlov men, but underneath it all, he’s as loyal as they come.” I release a throaty laugh. Daniil and Andrei do seem to be cut from the same alpha-hole cloth. “And you're notonlygaining a husband,” she says, gesturing to all the women in the room. “You're gaining a squad. And a pretty awesome one at that.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. If things were different, I might be grateful to have landed in this family. I watch Alyona fussing over her sister-in-law, Rowan’s, dress while Kira takes pictures of everyone, and a wave of sadness bites at my edges for everything I can’t have.
Georgia’s hand covers my own, bringing my thoughts back to the present. “Want me to come to your dress fitting with you?”
“No need,” I insist. “I’m sure you have a million things to do to get ready.”
“Please”—she swats the air—“I can just slap on some makeup and call it a day. I’m happy to accompany you.”
“No.” The word comes out too forcefully, and I quickly plaster an apologetic smile on my face. “I insist you go with the others to get manis. The wedding planner is joining me, anyway.”
“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
The next hour is a blur of cake tasting, finalizing the menu, and meeting with the florist to choose my bouquet. Madeline, the wedding planner, is like a dog with a bone. She isn’t letting go until all her i’s are dotted and her t’s crossed. She literally has an army working for her, and the moment she decides something, her little minions scurry off to do her bidding. I almost feel guilty that so much work is going into a wedding that won’t happen.
Daniil is nowhere to be found, and for that I’m grateful. I’d rather not look at his deceitful face ever again.
Just after lunch, as a team of decorators transform my uncle’s home into a tropical-themed wedding paradise, Madeline and I head to an exclusive designer bridal boutique to get my dress fitted. I already picked the dress out online, now they’ll do the final nips and tucks to ensure it fits like a glove. Or at least that’s what Madeline thinks.
A staff of three women greet us as we walk into the luxe store. Only a handful of dresses are on display, and all of them look fit for a princess. Or a mafia queen, in this case. A pretty woman in her thirties with hair to her waist and the name Ming on her name tag greets me. “You must be Bianca,” she says warmly. “The seamstress is waiting for you in the back. I’ll escort you.”
“Thank you.” I turn to Madeline. “I’m sure you have better things to do than oversee my fitting. Why don’t you stay out here and catch up on all the important details that need your approval.”
Madeline’s eyebrows pull together. “No need. It’s best if I join you.”
I don’t move a muscle. The incessant ding of her incoming messages blares between us.
“I can handle this,” I insist. I’ll come out and show you the final fit.” She looks unsure, but the hard set of my jaw makes it clear I won’t be backing down. She glances at her phone once more as it starts ringing.
“I’ll be right here,” she promises me before turning and answering her call.
Ming takes me to a large fitting room in the back of the store where the dress is carefully hung beside a pedestal and a Japanese folding screen. Ming holds eye contact with me for a moment before nodding and exiting the room.
The moment the door closes, Deidre steps out of the shadows. Arms crossed in front of her, she looks as cool as ever. Her braids are tied back in a ponytail, a gun—as always—is tucked away in a holster under her no-nonsense sports jacket. Seeing Deidre fills me with both relief and a deep frustration that this is still ongoing.
“This is certainly an unexpected turn of events,” she remarks in greeting. When we spoke last night, I'd only given her the most basic rundown of what happened. Though it wasn’t a detailed account, it was enough to convey that everything we’ve worked so hard for is threatened. “Are you going to put on the dress?” she asks, gesturing to the elegant Vera Wang hanging beside the mirror.
“Forget that,” I say, shaking my head in exasperation. “You need to get me out of here. Now.”
She folds her arms over her chest, her expression unflappable as she stands stock-still. “I’m afraid we can’t do that. Our investigation into your uncle is far from complete. Unless your life is in danger, I don’t have the authority to transfer you into WITSEC.”
I throw my arms in the air, frustration burning hot under my skin. “I’ve been working with the FBI for two years. I’ve provided you with damning evidence against my uncle and his cartel. How is it not enough to prosecute him or get me into witness protection?”
“Your uncle is careful. He has people help cover his tracks. He has the best lawyers at his fingertips, knows all the tricks of the trade. We need irrefutable evidence if it’s going to hold up in court.” Her eyes lance through me, piercing me with her uncompromising stare. “Like I told you from the start, these things take time.”
My stomach twists violently. I don’t have years, my life is about to implodetoday.
“You said you’d keep me safe,” I accuse. “My uncle is marrying me off to a ruthless bratva head. I can’t help you without access to Jorge and his loose lips.”
“Sit down and take a few deep breaths,” she coaxes, a wary eye on the door. She leads me to a chair by the window and forces a bottle of water into my hand. “Drink this, then tell me what’s going on.”
I drink, but it does nothing to steady my nerves. It’s like my life is unraveling into a nightmare I can’t control. Everything I’ve worked so hard for, sacrificed for, is slipping between my fingers like sand.