Dating the Don (Savage Crime Lords #1)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

MAEVE

T he engagement party is being held at an exclusive venue in Cristiano’s territory, the kind of place where, just a month ago, I would never have had access to. Not unless Ada was on my arm, anyway. As soon as we walk in, I can understand why it's the kind of club where you have to know somebody who knows somebody to get into.

I feel like I’ve been transported to another world entirely.

If lust could manifest itself into a physical location, this venue would be it. Every single person that we pass somehow seems to be even more attractive than the last. Everyone is wearing black tie outfits and oozing money or status. However, when Cristiano and I pass by, people stop and give us a respectful nod of attention. I'm not naive enough to believe that it is for me. Even if I had been given a list, there are so many guests here that I could never hope to learn their names, even though I know they all know who I am. I plaster on a bright smile and hold it there. All I can do is hope I have enough energy to get through the evening.

Cristiano explained everything to me in the car on the way here. Tonight is not just a celebration of our supposed love and union, it’s also a way to show and consolidate his power and leadership over the clan.

It’s a power move. It’s to show that he’s accepted his new role and is taking his first official steps away from his father’s shadow. They are big shoes to fill. Cristiano would never admit it, but I know he’s nervous. The whole time he spoke to me, he carefully avoided referring to his father directly. I have no idea if he’s allowed himself to grieve or if he’s been going since the day of the funeral. It feels like it would be insensitive to ask such a thing.

If he can hold it together and be the person that his people need him to be, the very least that I can do is be the woman he’s asked me to be. He made it clear that I have to possess the same self-assurance and feeling of power that he does. I mustembody his strength and virility. As far as the outside world is concerned, we are engaged to be married and incredibly in love. Given how much he's doing for me, I won't do anything to cast any doubt on that. I understand that doing so puts me at risk of being a target, but I can handle it. I must.

I try to walk as if I know that I hold the future of his clan in my hands.

I understand how sexist most of these men can be. The mafia and the Italian culture in general are male-leaning no matter the subject. I also know that it might be a dream for many women to stay at home and be pampered their whole lives, but I want more than that, I want to earn the things I get. The only thing that I want to be handed for free is affection and trust. I have no problem standing on my own two feet to obtain the rest of it. I don’t care how long it takes or what I have to do to work for it, it’s a point of pride for me. It always has been.

But not tonight.

Tonight I will play the part of the blushing bride and I will do it for Cristiano.

Maybe, if I’m lucky, he will even reward me again later tonight.

People part for us as we move through the venue's hallways, treating Cristiano like their Messiah of sorts. When we arrive in the grand room, a man at the door announces us, every eyeswiveling to look at us. The entire group raises their glass in a salute to Cristiano. Hetakes hold of my waist and draws me in closer in turn. The man who announced us ushers over a petite brunette with two champagne flutes on a silver tray. Until Cristiano takes hold of his own glass and raises it in salute to the entire room, the crowd does not lower theirs. It dawns on me that they are waiting for me too, when he looks over to me.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt quite so powerful before.

I lift my glass to join Cristiano, who smiles and nods in encouragement, as we both toast the room and slowly take sips from our glasses. Only then do our guests lower their glasses and take a sip.

The music starts, and the party begins in earnest. I think my cheeks start to hurt long before we get halfway through greeting everyone. I’m on my third glass of champagne, sipping slowly before I realize that this room is not only full of strangers, but of people that I used to work with too.

I didn’t realize that the house staff duties might also overlap here. Of course, it would. Cristiano trusts his house staff more than anyone. Of course, they would be here to serve him as well.

Now I am in the uncomfortable position of somehow being served by the people with whom I worked.

Or do I still?

I haven’t changed that much in such a short amount of time. Have I?

“Oh my god, that gown!” Ada’s voice comes from not too far away. I’m so relieved to see her that I could cry. I spin to hug her and she pushes me away with a wink. “Now, now, don’t make me drop these delicious appetizers!”

Sure enough, the small cocktail napkin in her hand has a handful of small bite-sized treats on it. The one with salmon looks particularly scrumptious. She wiggles the napkin toward her brother to offer him a piece. His gaze lingers on her for a long moment without smiling before she pulls the napkin back. Cristiano doesn’t look away from Ada until she consumes one of the pieces. I wonder what that’s about.

“You really should try one of these!” Ada offers.

“Mr. Dominio?” A man in a black suit and an earpiece approaches Cristiano from behind and he carefully transfers custody of me to his sister as he puts my arm in Ada’s and breaks away. It’s strange that my instinct is to automatically pull myself closer to him. Where’s he going? Am I supposed to go with him? Is he doing something that I’m not supposed to know about? I hope not. I wouldn’t assume so.

My brow furrows in silent question. When he catches me looking at him, he holds up a finger. Just a minute? At our engagement party? But this is just a sample of the life that I’ve signed up for, isn’t it? He’s an important man. And as such, he’s going to be pulled away from me at a moment’s notice to handle things that I’m not supposed to know about.

My job is to make it look like nothing is wrong.

So, while it feels incredibly strange to stand here and celebrate with Ada, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Ada eats all of the snacks that she brought with her and starts looking around for more. “These are to die for, by the way.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“Not really.”

Ada starts and then catches sight of one of the waiters with a tray she seems to be very intently interested in. “Actually, hold that thought. I have to use the ladies’ room and then I need to catch that waiter.”

Just like that, she slips out of my arms. I almost go after her, but then Al is there. He’s been floating behind Ada like a shadow for days now. It has to be intentional. He dips his head in a respectful bow before following after her. I always had this sneaking suspicion that he cared about her a great deal more than he let on. While I don’t know Al on a personal level, there’s something about the way he looks at her. It’s more than duty, I can tell. He cares about her. Genuinely and deeply. What’s more is that Cristiano obviously trusts the man to be around his sister, even when she’s alone.

I make a mental note to myself to ask her about it later, and head in the direction of the bar instead.

I’ve been without a drink for far too long. Besides, what better place to hide from the guests whose names I cannot remember? They are all starting to blend together. I am not a lightweight by any stretch of the imagination, but I won’t deny that I’m feeling overwhelmed. Maybe no more champagne, perhaps something a touch stronger that will help calm my nerves just a little bit.

I approach the bar and order a whiskey sour. Not really my personal favorite, but it was what my mom always ordered. She didn’t like the taste of it either. I remember asking her one time why she would order something that she didn’t like and she said it was because it always made her feel fancy and sophisticated when she drank it. Though, unlike her, I’m happy to have them add as much extra fruit to mine as possible. The whiskey-soaked cherries? Those I do like.

I chew one happily, letting the warmth of the whiskey lend me courage when another stranger slides into the bar beside me.

“That looks good,” he compliments, eyeing my drink.

I shrug a single shoulder. “It’s not.”

He grins. The gesture warms his face even though only one side of his mouth seems to move. “Well then, I’m sold. I’ll have one what of what she’s having.”

The man’s Irish brogue is out of place with the company that I’ve kept this evening. He must be somebody important to Cristiano to have been invited tonight. Most of all, since the tensions with the Irish are at such an all-time high. Perhaps he’s an ally of some sort? Does Cristiano have men on the inside? Either way, he can’t be a threat since he’s here.

And I’m supposed to play the hostess, so that’s what I’m going to do. I wait until he takes a sip and shakes his head.

“Well?”

“Well, you’re wrong. This is delightful,” he grins. If I had never met Cristiano, I might think that this man was handsome. He’s more rugged. Short blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. He’s built like a lumberjack. I can’t think of any other comparison for the almost square-like build to his body and jawline. It’s an alluring sort of charm that oozes from him. Nothing comparable to Cristiano, of course.

More times than I can count, I’ve watched him win over an entire room within minutes. He oozes comfortable charm because he makes people like him. He attracts them because he looks so disarming and friendly. It’s his classically handsome features that draw people in. This man is attractive in the way that all things bad for you are. They attract you because they seem thrilling. Not comfortable. But then, I don’t think he intends to be.

Still, when he lifts his glass to me, I mirror the motion.

“I suppose that a toast is still in order, regardless of the glass’ contents,” he smirks and clinks the edge of his glass against mine. “Congratulations on your engagement and the like.”

“Thank you,” I answer easily but don’t sip much from my drink. While I want to be friendly toward this man, something in my gut tells me that it would be smart not to take my eyes off him.

“Pity that it’s not going to last, Miss Sullivan,” he says as he finishes the contents of his glass in one gulp. The man spins, letting an elbow rest on the bartop as he turns his focus from me to the floor where all of our guests are mingling.

“What?” I ask.

Before I can demand an explanation, the piano explodes.