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THE GALA
KINSLEY
My metallic embroidered dress left little to the imagination, showing off my arms, thighs, cleavage, and stomach. Nick stands next to me by the entrance, engrossed in a conversation with a businessman. I link my arm through my husband's, waiting patiently for their talk to end. I yearn for a discussion about medicine instead of how Nick can persuade Governor Magarelli of New Jersey to install a traffic light at some intersection near his house.
Imagine my surprise when I learned Dillon Magarellis brother Dominic was the governor. Looks like the Magarellis run the state. And have a lot of mafia influence in the city of Newark.
Wendall is very knowledgeable when it comes to the mafia. I also asked him if he was a gangster. He said if something were to happen, he’d jump into assist without hesitation. Yup, definitely a gangster moonlighting as a butler.
I scan the expansive ballroom, taking in every detail. The ornate ceiling boasts intricate gold carvings on each block, while cream-colored moldings separate them and draw your attention to their exquisite design. Twenty sparkling chandeliers, reminiscent of those from centuries ago, hang from the ceiling, adding to the warm and inviting atmosphere of the room. It's a perfect location for a glamorous gala event.
My husband's laughter sounds forced, and I can tell his mind is elsewhere. The thought of killing Torrance Aiello consumes him. Ever since he found out that Norah was ordered to kill me at his command. I have no doubt that Norah told her father I posed a threat to her position in Nick's life. She had always been jealous of our relationship, but she never had a chance with him. After all, Nick saw her as nothing more than a business transaction, which only fueled her resentment.
Lately, Nick hasn't been sleeping well; instead, he drowns his sorrows in bottles of Jack Daniels in the entertainment room. I've had to help him up the stairs to our bedroom the past couple of nights. He needs to pull himself together, but it's hard for him to let go of the past. He blames himself for everything that has happened - someone tried to kill me, our child was murdered, and I was sexually assaulted. It is his mafia life that was the cause of the mayhem.
Nick hasn’t kissed me or tried to have sex with me. Now that he knows about the sexual assault, he probably looks at me like a wilted flower. A chill darts up my spine. The vile assholes tainted what was once his.
Maybe he had second thoughts about our union. He didn’t know he was getting a used-up version of the woman he fell in love with.
