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Something silently passed between them, but all Ghost said was, “Sas sent me over to make sure everything here was secure.”
My heart thumped in my chest. Had something gone down back at the hotel after we left? Graff appeared calm, but guarded, and I couldn’t read Ghost.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” said Graff, turning from Ghost. “It’s fine. Look, here’s the limo.”
“Oh good.” Mamà sighed, and I turned around to see her fanning herself. “The AC will keep us fresh. I hate having to shower at night.”
Mamà shouldered her purse higher and made for the back door one of the capos held open. Alessio circled the car and ducked into the passenger door.
“Girls,”—Mamà looked back at us—“let’s go. We’ve got a meeting with the planners regarding the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.”
Shit. What was my family planning? Mamà loved to entertain, and her parties were pretentious, to say the least. It appeared I wasn’t getting away with a quickie wedding, and I worried what Sas would say about that. La Famiglia’s idea of a wedding was a grandiose affair, and that could get uncomfortable quick.
I glanced up at Graff, hoping he could find a way to help me out of this situation.
Cat looped her hand through my arm and pulled, all while batting her eyes at Graff. “Come on, Lina.”
My feet, however, were riveted to the concrete.
“It’s okay,” Graff said. “You go. I’ll ride behind the limo with Ghost.” He started toward his bike in the motorcycle parking slots across from the mall’s entrance.
I really wanted to believe Graff—that everything would be okay. More than that, I wanted to jump onto the back of his bike and ride into the sunset. But I didn’t. I dragged my feet as Catand I moved toward the waiting limo, my stomach still twisting into a tight knot.
Chapter Thirty-Four
SAS
I didn’t careif I was getting married or if the Italian tradition required all the wedding things. I wouldn’t take off my patch for anything. They would have to pry my cut from my cold, dead hands. For the rehearsal dinner, I dressed in the stupid shirt and slacks and then slid into my cut. I had washed it off and oiled the leather. The dirt and grime had come clean, revealing the polished black below.
It almost looked like a new vest. Shame.
As I left the hotel room, wearing the weird shoes that crowded my toes, I pulled at the collar of my button-down shirt. This getup they had left on my bed was just all sorts of fucked up. The shirt didn’t reach my wrists, so I had to roll up the sleeves. And if they thought I would button that top button and put on a tie, they must’ve been smoking some good shit.
The tie and sports coat, I left in a crumple on the floor next to the bed.
Soft piano music played overhead as we ascended in the Parisi Hotel and Casino’s elevator to the penthouse again. The mirrors in the elevator, covered in gold, reflected me and my brothers back. All of us with clean cuts and dress pants.
“You clean up so nicely.” Graff, smirking, reached for my slicked-back hair.
I batted away his hand. “Fuck off.”
“You didn’t like the tie?” he pressed. “I thought the little blue flowers would’ve suited your coloring nicely.”
Snapping my head to look over at him, I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not wearing one.”
“I swore off nooses a long time ago.”
“Exactly.” I cracked a half smile.
“Cut it,” Wilde piped in.
I dropped my gaze to the Prez’s feet. “Mafia didn’t take your boots, eh?”
Wilde’s lip twitched like he might break into a full-on wolf-like snarl. “No fucking way. Dress shoes suck ass.” He glanced up at the numbers as they climbed.
“You’re telling me,” I grumbled. “I can’t feel my little toes.”
