Page 81 of Legacy of Deception

I just got the mockups sent to my phone, and while they were perfect, all I could think about was whether any of it would even matter anymore.

I was going to have to tell her the truth about how my father had stabbed her father in the back. It was inevitable.

I only hoped she could see past my father’s misdeeds. Or at least that she wouldn’t hold them against me. I hoped she could see that I was fighting against the toxicity, against the dysfunction.

In fact, I didn’t want us to mirror our parents. I wanted us to learn to exist on the same plane but run parallel. I wanted us to play by different rules. I wanted us to be us. Without the conditions and expectations they put on us.

Chapter 34

mixed feelings

BROOKLYN

I’d attended events before. Not nearly as many as Marco, I was sure, but that aside, I had never been to a cocktail fête, and I definitely had never been to one like this.

The most popular stretch of Madison Avenue on the Upper East Side was primarily closed off by the NYPD so traffic didn’t get in the way of the holding zones for the waiting limousines. The red carpet had been meticulously planned in advance. They had accounted for a ten-minute period per limousine so passengers could be dropped off, photographed, interviewed, and offer a brief wave before being ushered into the venue by security.

By way of reference, before this, the nicest event I had attended was at the Cherry Popped Lounge. I felt like I skipped a few steps in between. Not that I was complaining.

Marco hadn’t been one of the most interesting people to sit in the back seat of the stretch limousine with. Not to mention the fact that referring to it as a stretch limousine gave it a traditional vibe, and this one was anything but traditional. It definitely wasn’t one I would have ever shown up to prom in. This one was a customized luxury armored vehicle with blackout tint.

I digressed, though.

As far as Marco went, besides a question here or there for the driver, he hadn’t said much. I chalked it up to his lack of interest in going to the event.

It had to have been tough. For me, it was somewhat new and exciting. But, for him, it was yet another order from Santo about an obligation he had to his family. I was well aware that weighed heavily on him.

Casually peering over, a shudder lightly rolled through me as I took him in not for the first time, wearing a black pinstripe double-breasted suit and a white man-tailored shirt with the first few buttons undone.

Marco’s jaw was clenched tight, and the lines of tension were visible across it. Slashing the silence like car tires, I spoke. “You know, Axel made this collection after his girlfriend rejected his proposal.” It was factual, taken from a press release I’d read about Axel Tipton.

Stoic as ever, Marco didn’t move a muscle.

Exhaling, I tried again. “Sad, huh? But, apparently, it inspired him to create.”

“Yeah,” he bristled.

Nothing else. No emotion crossed his expression. But he gave me something, which was more than nothing. I was going to call that a start. I stroked the soft gel of my red manicured nail with my finger, wondering whether I should have chosen a bracelet or rings.

At home, Marco hadn’t spoken either, but he had gotten down on his knees in his suit, not worrying about wrinkling the fabric, and strapped my gold heels on. They were nearly four inches tall, but I took a chance because I figured we wouldn’t be doing much walking once we got into the venue. Plus, they looked striking with the shimmering gold dress with a high slit and free-flowing skirt. Typically, I was not a fan of spaghetti straps, but I had made an exception with this dress because the cut only accentuated my pregnancy boobs. That was what I’d be referring to them as since I had never had big boobs like this, and it was one of my favorite changes to my body. I knew Marco appreciated them too.

Snapping my neck in his direction, I asked, “What’s up with you tonight?” My patience was drawing thin, and it was obvious in the tone of my voice. I felt like I had done a pretty good job up until now, so I wasn’t going to beat myself up over it.

His eyes connected with mine for the first time all evening, and I wasn’t about to look away. “Just tired, that’s all.” His lips pulled up in a smile. A forced one, but a smile, nonetheless. And it was for my benefit, which I had mixed feelings about.

“You don’t have to do that.” I swayed into his side, our shoulders bumping.

He cocked a brow.

There he went again, pretending like he wasn’t trying to make things better because he heard in my voice how pissed I was getting over how he was acting. “I want us to be honest with each other. Sometimes things are going to annoy me, and I’m not going to want to be bothered. You will be one of the first people to know. All I’m asking is the same from you.” I thought it was only fair. I also thought it was necessary if we really wanted to make this work. I knew I did, and deep down, I knew he did as well. Even if he wasn’t exactly showing it right now.

His face fell, and he cleared his throat. “Listen, I—”

Before he could get another word in edgewise, the limousine pulled up to the drop-off point, signaling that it was our turn to exit the vehicle.

Not even bothering to plaster on a smile, he got out when his door was opened, gestured to the gentleman that he would help me out, and extended a hand for me to take. The hand where he was wearing his initial ring. Where his pinky knuckle was slightly red and swollen, which meant he had been playing with it more than usual. The weight he had on his chest was about his father. I knew it was because every time it was, and he had that stupid ring on, he turned it regardless of which hand he wore it on.

Sometimes I just wanted to take it off his finger and destroy it. I couldn’t help it. I hated to see Marco hurting.