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Her pupils then moved to where I stood. “We have a strategy meeting on how we will handle shipments coming into the port. My house at 7. Don’t be late.”
She grabbed her bag and walked out like everything was sunshine and roses. She walked out of the room, leaving me not only stunned, but far more intrigued than I would care to admit.
Chapter Six
Savina’s POV
Today was the day. I was being sentenced to life-long imprisonment thanks to my uncle, who thought it fit to seek help from a bunch of imbeciles.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face as the hairdresser continued to curl my hair into a perfect updo.
I watched Martina in the background get ready. She looked stunning in her black maid of honor gown that we had picked out only a month ago in Milan when we went to go and retrieve my dress.
Martina reminded me a lot of my mother—before the assassination, of course. She exuded this softness and light that was just too pure for this world we lived in. Her light brown curls shaped her face perfectly, cascading all the way down her backside to her tailbone.
She met my gaze in the mirror and smiled. She was far more excited for this day than I was. But then again, Martina had this foolish childlike optimism that broke her heart more times than not. She always wanted to see the good and the positive in everything around her. At first glance, you wouldn’t think that she and I grew up in the same world.
But there was a saying that said, the same boiling water that hardened an egg also softened a potato. I guess that was true for the two of us.
Once my makeup and hair were done, the two stylists left me alone with Martina. She helped me into my dress and, after a few struggles, we finally had the damn thing on.
Though I was not pleased with this whole arrangement, I had to admit the dress was magnificent. I had chosen a floor-length gown with a sweetheart neckline that lifted my breasts, giving me the perfect amount of cleavage. The dress hugged every inch of my body right up until the end part, where it spanned out ever so slightly. The fabric was made out of this gorgeous white lace that gave the perfect combination of elegance and edge.
My neck was adorned with a family necklace that had been passed down to every Baratelli bride. The soft updo held a crown within the soft wisps, making me look softer and almost fairy-like.
“You make a beautiful bride, Vina.” Martina stood behind me with a proud look on her face. “You’ve kept yourself well. I know your father and brother would be proud of all you have become.”
I swallowed hard. It was never easy thinking about my father and brother, given the circumstances they died under. It felt like robbery, a cruel and unfortunate consequence of living in this world.
I cleared my throat, needing to change the subject. “Is the spawn ready?”
“You may grow to like him, Vina.” Here she went again with her hopeful thinking. “Love can be created if you want to.”
“Of course,” I rolled my eyes, “I can grow to love him like one would love the smell of sewage in a kitchen.”
She pouted. “Would it kill you to be a little more optimistic about your future? This marriage will do you some good. I can feel it in my chest.”
“The last time you trusted your feelings you wound up in the ER getting treated for rabies.”
Her mouth opened in a giant O shape. “How was I supposed to know that the dog had rabies!”
“It was foaming at the mouth.”
Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to defend her actions, but we both knew she led with delusion first and facts later. But it was okay, because the world needed people like her to keep it moving, and it needed people like me to keep those like her safe.
We chatted some more and then she left to go and retrieve my mother.
I waited in the suite thinking about what the next few hours of my life were going to look like.
Today I had chosen to wear my brother's ring on my pointer finger on my right. My father's knife was fastened onto my thigh by my garland. Even though they could not be here with me, they were still here in their own way.
The door to my suite suddenly flew open and in walked a large bull in a fitted Tom Ford suit and slicked-back black hair. His blue eyes were as hot as lightning as he charged right at me.
“You did this.” He showed me his screen that displayed one of his warehouses, up in flames in the Bronx. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
His voice vibrated off the walls angrily, but that did not phase me. I went to sleep to the sounds of bullets and tortured screams.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, that looks expensive. It sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”
