Page 70 of Legacy of Deception

Her cherry earrings dangled from her ears, the rubies and diamonds glittering under the shadow the moon cast on the evening. “Your first event? That’s exciting. As is…that,” she said, her hands doing as much talking as her mouth. She waved a hand in front of her, and she brought it up and down for emphasis on my baby bump, which was definitely noticeable in the red pantsuit I had chosen to don. The dress code was “cherry casual,” and while I didn’t exactly have a rule book to follow for these events, I relied on common sense. “Marco must be happy.”

The facts surrounding my pregnancy came into focus, and I decided to be discreet about it. Just as I had been and always would be. While she seemed like a lovely woman, she wasn’t privy to everything. “Over the moon,” I replied simply.

“So, he’s overprotective and wishes you were home with him instead of here?”

I didn’t answer because I had a feeling she was projecting her own situation onto me. However, we weren’t close enough by any means for me to inquire. I had to admit, though, she wasn’t too far off.

She moved her ruby-clustered handbag to her other hand, shifting her weight as well. “I picked up on it in your voice. Plus, I’m intuitive.”

Two women passing by with drinks in their hands laughed, one of them loudly interrupting as they couldn’t be ignored. “Have you tried the cherry butter sculpture?” they asked, shock and appreciation surrounding their words. Like they were silently approving the addition to the event.

Shaking my head, I swept a hand across my forehead, brushing loose hair out of my face. Angles were both great and annoying. I couldn’t imagine the horror of bangs. While, in theory, I had always wanted them, I hoped I never got any grand ideas, and it stayed a theory only. “He’s actually really supportive of me doing this. I’m trying to get an agent, so I can attend more events like this.”

Despite the way my mother had handled things, leaving everything up to my father as she insisted I needed a pony for equestrian lessons or a new swimsuit every summer or a personal driver, I had a different vision. She and my father agreed it wasn’t a good idea, but I was beginning to see things differently.

Bianca rolled her lips and held a finger up. “Greta Geller is mine. She’s the best in the business, and that’s not even me trying to brag about her. That’s just the truth.”

“Actually, I believe it.” I tucked a hand into my jumpsuit pocket, grateful I opted for ballet flats instead of the usual heels or stilettos I typically preferred. “She’s actually who I’m here to meet. Capri Deluca set it up. She’s my best friend. I guess it pays to have friends in high places.”

She shook her head. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re in high places too.”

I wouldn’t have said that. “No. I mean, Marco is, but I’m not.”

“You might as well be one and the same. You’re married, aren’t you?” Not exactly, but okay. “And yours is not a conventional marriage,” she said much to my surprise.

Not a conventional marriage. It wasn’t plausible she knew about the arrangement. Sure, that silly gossip rag, The Brunette Bitch or something or other, had alluded to it not being completely on the up and up, but who cared what she had to say? “What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I studied her, not ready to confirm or deny anything.

Talking with her hands, she tilted her head, as though it was odd that I didn’t know what she meant. “He’s a Deluca. He represents the upper crust. There is an exclusive social code that enters the equation with standing like that.”

“Yes, it opens a wide range of social spheres to me.” It was practically public knowledge. My father knew it, and if he knew it, he couldn’t have been the only one. Honestly, I was very confident the Delucas themselves knew it and used it every chance they got. As they should have. They earned the right. So, why state the obvious? “Isn’t that what everyone craves?”

“Not everyone, but most.” Bringing her hand to the two gold nameplate necklaces around her neck, she sighed. Interestingly, neither one of them had her name. One had Knox with hearts underneath the name, and the other had Vera with a crown on top. “You know, Knox doesn’t care about this lifestyle. He’d actually prefer to live on a spacious ranch in Texas.”

Personally, I couldn’t have imagined ever leaving the city, but I could appreciate the desire for a quieter, slower lifestyle. Quiet mornings. Early evenings. There was a certain appeal to it, for sure. “Is he home with Vera?” I asked, nudging my chin in the direction of her necklace.

Rolling her eyes, she ran her hand over each one in turn before bringing it back to her side. “You bet he is. I told him I’d get Perla or one of my other sisters to babysit so he could come tonight, but he insisted.”

“Must be nice to have that support.” Thankfully, I knew I would have the same. Maybe not from Marco’s entire family, but certainly from Capri. Occasionally, even Siena. Although, I didn’t see her offering to babysit quite as much.

“It is.” Exhaling, she cast a glance around the room once more before settling back on me and returning to our conversation. “We waited to have a child, but it was really him appeasing me.”

I nodded. “You were hesitant?”

“Not necessarily. When we got together, I was just getting my footing. Then I quit working at Bellissima and started following my passion. I opened a flagship store, and it didn’t matter how many people I hired or interns I brought on, businesses demand a lot. I wanted to give it all I had.”

It felt completely out of reach, but one day, I would have liked to entertain the idea of starting my own brand. It had to feel right, though. “Seems like you were fortunate.”

“Yes. In a way others aren’t always. I know that.” She frowned. “You’re definitely never alone, though. You have Marco, and if you want, a support group.”

“Hmm?”

She swallowed. “Greta and I are actually in the same one. It’s a support group for moms. We have a group chat. We get together with and without the kids. Our kids make friends, meet new kids, and we get to unload on each other.”

It sounded nice, but— “Don’t you have your sisters for that?”

“It’s different,” she replied, shrugging. “Allie is in another mommy support group.”

“I can always talk to Capri.”