“Why aren’t you marrying him?” Olympia demands. “He’s gorgeous.”
Why indeed, I ask myself.
* * *
Olympia makes everything easy. I forgot how adept she is at insisting things go her way. Since Dimitri is heading for the gaming tables with Tasha, she commandeers his limousine and driver, and instructs the driver to take us to the most popular club in Vegas. The us is me, her, and Dario.
We make a daring escape after I inform Craven I have to spend some alone-time with my best friend who’s flown all the way from Greece to attend our wedding. Actually she was in New York with her mother, but Craven doesn’t know that. He is disappointed, but assures me that he understands.
At least he’s not difficult, that’s one point in his favor.
The club we arrive at is perfect. Loud music blasting in our ears. Flashing lights alerting our senses. And before we know it, we are getting a round of tequila shots from the manager—a man Olympia immediately bonds with.
It amazes me how, at seventeen, she always gets her own way. Nobody checks us for IDs, we are just automatically in—including Dario, who’s still only fifteen.
I take big gulps of club air. Intoxicating! Exactly what I need.
Dario and I hit the crowded dance floor and go crazy. I have so much energy to release. Olympia is way busy with the manager—a smooth talker, but not half as smooth as she is. He’s met a girl who is not in awe of him simply because he fronts the most popular club in town, and he’s way into her. Olympia—well, who knows with Olympia.
And then I see him. Marco. Only he’s not my Marco anymore. He’s sitting in a booth with a girl who is draping herself all over him. And it’s not some random girl, it’s Flora, my sometime escort, the thirty-something VIP hostess with the dyed red hair and fake boobs.
Oh … my … God.
For a moment I am frozen to the spot.
Flora.
Really?
Seriously?
They haven’t seen me. I am invisible to them because they are too busy tonguing each other to death.
I hate them both.
A plan. I need a plan of action.
And then it comes to me …
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Hey—Marco, Flora—fancy running into you here,” I say in a prepared and cool fashion. Marco glances up and looks quite startled to see me. “Lucky,” he mumbles. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”
I can tell he’s had a few drinks too many.
“Enjoying myself, just like you.”
“Jesus Christ!” he steams. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Flora reaches into her purse, flips out a lipstick, and proceeds to plaster it on her lips.
“Are you going to run and report me to Gino?” I ask, making direct eye contact with the ex–love of my life.
He shakes his head as if he doesn’t know what he’s about to do.
“It really makes no difference now, does it?” I say. “The train has left the station. I’ll be a married woman in a couple days, so really I can do whatever I want, right?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Marco mutters, repeating himself. “You shouldn’t be in this club drinkin’, you’re underage.”
“Not too young to get married though,” I say with a scathing look. “Not too underage for that.”
Flora jumps to her feet. I can tell that she doesn’t want to be involved in this confrontation. I am her boss’s daughter and she’s scared of this somehow reflecting badly on her.
“Going to the little girls’ room,” she trills, and scampers off, leaving me alone with the Betrayer.
Marco gives me a long serious look. His dark hair is rumpled and I notice he is unshaven. It only adds to his attractiveness. Crap! If only he wasn’t so impossibly handsome.
“Y’know, Lucky,” he says at last, “I was only lookin’ out for you.”
“Thanks,” I answer. “But believe me, Marco, I am all grown up, I can look out for myself—I don’t need any help.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “I’m beginning to realize that.”
Really, Marco? I am slightly thrown off balance by his choice of words. Is he finally acknowledging my grown-up status?
“Uh … well … um … good,” I mutter.
Do I sound like a total moron?
Yes, I think I do.
“I’m sorry I tried to kiss you,” I say, thinking it might be time to put our relationship—such as it is—back on track. “I know it was totally inappropriate and that you didn’t want it.”
“Lucky,” he says, leaning back and giving me a long soulful look—a look that makes my heart melt. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want it, the problem is you’re so goddamn beautiful. But you’re too young for me, Lucky, and I work for Gino. An’ those are two things I can’t do anything about.”
Oh … my … God! I am about to have a total collapse. Did I just hear right? Is this Marco telling me he wanted me to kiss him? Am I dreaming?
Before I can find out, my clever plan zooms into action. Olympia, club manager, and some other random dude Olympia has recruited at my request descend on me. And random dude acts all cozy, as if we’re a couple! Olympia has told him to do exactly that.
Yes, this is my clever plan to make Marco jealous. Too bad, because now all I want to do is sit down next to him, fall into his deep, dark, somewhat drunken gaze, and hear what else he has to say.
I love him. I do! I really do!
Then Flora returns to the table and the spell is totally broken.
Marco puts a finger to his lips. “Code of silence,” he says with a wry smile. “This time I won’t be running to Gino. That’s a promise.”
“Thanks,” I mumble in a strained voice, before random dude pulls me out onto the dance floor.
I am dazed and confused. What is going on? Why am I light-headed and filled with joy?
Should I call off my wedding and wait for Marco?
Inner voice to the rescue. Don’t be a ditz. He didn’t declare his undying love, he simply said he didn’t mind you kissing him.
Oh, crap! Once again I am so confused.
Random dude pulls me close. “I’m Luke,” he says.
Like I care.
“Glad I could be of assistance.”
I bet you are.
“That old dude looked pissed when I dragged you away.”
“He’s not so old,” I mutter, quite insulted.
“Well, he did look pissed. But you wanted me to rescue you, right? That’s what your friend said.”
Oh, Olympia, thanks for all your help, only unfortunately your timing was way off. Now I’ll never know what Marco was going to say next.
Later the four of us—Olympia, club manager, Luke, and me—go back to the the club manager’s apartment overlooking the Strip, because Olympia insists that I return the favor she did for me. Dario is long gone—he took the limo back to the hotel, or at least I hope that’s what he did. I do not relish the idea of baby bro trolling around Vegas searching out gay action.
Ah yes, it’s the same old Olympia, thinking only of herself, ’cause I have no intention of getting it on with Luke. First off he’s not my type, and second my thoughts are crammed full of Marco.
Drinks are offered and it doesn’t take long before Olympia and club manager vanish into his bedroom, leaving me alone with Luke. He has brown spiky hair, a stocky build, and an expectant look on his face.
Well, if he’s expecting anything from me, he’s way out of luck. I am so not in the mood for “almost.”
He makes a lame attempt to kiss me, and when I resist, he produces a vial of cocaine and starts laying out lines on the coffee table.
Awkward! The whole scenario is totally awkward.
“Coke isn’t my deal,” I tell him, backing away.
“C’mon,” he counters persuasively. “It’s everyone’s deal.”
“I’m getting married.”
“That’s why y’should be making the most of you
r freedom.”
“You’re right,” I say quickly. “And that’s why I’m heading to my hotel. Tell Olympia I’ll send the car back for her.”
To Luke’s credit he lets me leave without giving me a hard time.
Back at the hotel I check in on Dario. He’s safely in his bed, asleep.
I hear noises coming from Gino’s bedroom, so I edge toward the door, curious as to who he’s with now. It seems Daddy Dearest doesn’t have a particular type.
I can hear a woman groaning in the throes of ecstasy. It makes me shiver—I shouldn’t be spying on my father, it’s none of my business. Somehow I can’t help myself.
Sex over, there is now conversation taking place.
I lean closer to the door and, maybe I’m imagining it, but the woman sounds awfully like Betty Richmond—my future mother-in-law.
No. Impossible.
Or is it?
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
It’s morning, and I am lying in bed contemplating the situation, such as it is. Daddy Dearest is sleeping with Betty Richmond—my future mother-in-law. And I know this for a fact, because after hearing what I thought was her voice I stayed up and spied—watching her leave on one of the security cameras Gino has set up.
Holy crap! My father is doing the dirty with Mrs. Dead Eyes. Ugh! It’s so not right.
And I have questions. Does the senator know? Does Craven?
I think not.
Oh my God, it’s so screwed up. And yet it makes sense. It all fits into the arranged-marriage situation.
Knowledge is power. And now I have it. If I wanted to, I could go to Gino and tell him that I know everything and that I refuse to marry Craven.
Then what?
No. I will go ahead, marry Craven, forge my own identity, get a divorce, then I’ll confront Gino and tell him exactly what I want. A full stake in the family business, a position of importance. I want to be Gino’s partner.
Dario hops into my room, interrupting my reverie of thought.
“You’re not up,” he says.
“That’s pretty obvious,” I answer.
“Well, get your lazy butt up.”
“Why should I?”
“’Cause Gino is insisting I go with him to a brunch with the Richmonds, an’ I’m not doin’ it without you.”
“For crap’s sake,” I grumble, “you go, I don’t have to.”
“Yes, you do,” Dario insists. “They’re gonna be your family, not mine. So there’s no reason I should get stuck.”
He has a point, my blond and beautiful gay brother.
“Okay,” I say with a reluctant sigh. “Give me five, I’ll throw on some clothes.”
I jump out of bed, while Dario plops himself down on top of the covers.
“What happened after I left last night?” he asks.
“Exactly nothing,” I respond, pulling on my jeans.
“You’re such a slut,” he says with a sly grin.
“What?”
“Going off with those two sleazeballs.”
“I didn’t go off with anyone, Olympia did.”
“Yeah, sure,” Dario says disbelievingly.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Why should I?”
I decide ignoring him is the way to go as I finish dressing.
I can’t wait to see how Gino acts in front of dear old Betty. It promises to be most entertaining.
* * *
Betty Richmond is in her tennis outfit. A short white pleated skirt and a sensible sleeveless top. Her skin is leather-tanned and taut; the muscles in her upper arms appear manly and strong. Not exactly a sex goddess. I wonder what Gino can possibly see in her.
“Good morning, dear,” she greets me.
Good morning, you cheating whore, I want to say. Instead I give her a wan smile.
Peter Richmond winks at me. “Only two more days,” he says. “Are you excited?”
Is he kidding? Excited. About what?
Craven comes loping in, red-faced and out of breath. “S … sorry I’m late,” he stammers.
“Why are you late?” Betty demands.
“I w … was on the phone.”
“With whom?” Betty asks, dead eyes requiring an immediate answer.
Is she serious? I feel sorry for Craven that he has to deal with such a controlling bitch of a mother. He’s twenty-one years old. What business of hers is it who he’s talking to? I decide that I’d better teach him to grow some balls, he needs them desperately.
“Andrew actually,” Craven says. “He’s n … not going to be able to make it in time for the wedding.”
“Well, that’s extremely inconvenient,” Betty snaps.
Craven hangs his head and looks mortified.
Realizing everyone at the table is listening, Betty decides to mortify Craven even more and explain. “Andrew was supposed to be Craven’s best man,” she says with a waspish grimace. “They went to college together, but it’s obviously not important enough for Andrew to put himself out. Craven is not a priority.”
“Hey,” Gino says. “These things happen.”
“Unfortunately they always seem to happen to Craven,” Betty says, as if it’s his fault.
“Got an idea,” Gino offers. “Dario’s here—he’ll be Craven’s best man.”
I sneak a quick glance at Dario. He looks horrified.
“That would be wonderful,” Betty exclaims, shifting her dead eyes toward Dario. “And such a handsome young man, too.”
And so it is arranged. The Santangelos are an all-giving family. A bride and a best man all wrapped up in one neat little package. How very nice.
* * *
After brunch Dario and I take off and meet up with Olympia. True to herself she is all dreamy-eyed and postcoital.
“I think I’m going to move to Vegas,” she sighs as we all loll out by one of the luxurious hotel swimming pools.
“You’re crazy,” I say, because the truth is that Olympia is a little bit crazy.
“Oh, yes,” Olympia responds, adjusting her bikini top so that her full cleavage is on display. “I’m crazy, and you’re the one getting married at sixteen.”
“Why d’you want to move to Vegas?” I ask.
“’Cause Rick thinks I should.”
“Who’s Rick?”
“The club manager, idiot. We’re in love.”
“Lust,” I correct.
“What?”
“One night of lust and you’re anyone’s.”
“Thanks. What makes you think this isn’t the real thing?”
“’Cause you’ve only known him for one day.”
“And how long have you known Craven?”
“Different situation,” I point out. “Anyway, I’d like to see Dimitri’s face if you told him you were moving to Vegas.”
“You’re both freakin’ nuts,” Dario says, joining in. “And now I’ve got to go get fitted for some dumb dinner jacket ’cause of you.” He gives me a brotherly glare and stands up. Girls in the vicinity all crane to get a better look at his blond six-foot frame in blue swim shorts that match his eyes.
“Bye-bye, hot baby brother,” Olympia singsongs. “If you were only of legal age I’d be all over you.”
Dario gives an embarrassed grin. “Good luck with that moving to Vegas thing,” he says before taking off.
“He’s so wicked cute,” Olympia sighs, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Not that I know of,” I reply, hardly about to reveal Dario’s secret to Olympia. She has a big mouth and is not good at keeping secrets.
“How come you took off last night?” Olympia asks. “Didn’t you like Luke? I thought he was major cute.”
“I’m about to get married,” I remind her.
“Ah yes, you should be making the most of your freedom.”
“That’s what Luke said before I ran out on him.”
“Then why did you leave?”
I left because of Marco. He’s on my mind big-time
.
I left because I truly, deeply love him.
“’Cause … I dunno,” I mumble vaguely.
Olympia screws up her eyes. “Are you sure you should be doing this? It’s not as if you’re ecstatically happy.”
I nod my head. “It’s what I want,” I say firmly. “And I’m not about to change my mind.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Marco, Marco, Marco. Wherefore art thou, Marco?
Is Marco all I can think about? The way he moves, his dark eyes, his strong athletic body, his jet-black hair.
Our children would be a combination of both of us. How amazing would that be.
Thank goodness there is a Raoul in my life. At least there is someone who can take my mind off my one true love. Raoul is organizing an off-the-grid bachelorette party for me—a party that will take place after the formal “all girls” dinner Betty Richmond has arranged.
“All girls” my ass, Betty and her tribe of uptight friends. Thank goodness there is an Olympia in my life, too.
This is all taking place on the same night as Craven’s bachelor party, a party Dario is being forced to attend, since he is now officially Craven’s best man. I’ve told my brother that the moment he can get away he should hop a cab and come join Raoul’s event. He’s down with that.
Meanwhile there are only two days left before the wedding. Two more long days, and everything is set. I had to sit through an endlessly boring meeting with Talia Primm, who insisted on going over every detail with me so I could approve all her hard work.
“It hasn’t been easy putting this all together in such a short period of time,” she’d informed me, waiting for me to praise her valiant efforts. “I am a perfectionist, which I am sure you appreciate, and so is Mrs. Richmond.”
I rallied, deciding that I may as well make her feel good about herself.
“You’ve done an awesome job,” I assured her.
“Thank you,” she’d replied, adjusting her wig.
It seems I am having a pink wedding. Pink tablecloths and napkins; pink place mats; pink flowers. Surely it’s Olympia who should be getting married surrounded by her favorite color? It’s so not me. When the time comes and I have a real wedding, I want it to be black and silver all the way. Me and Marco. Black and silver. And maybe we’ll have the ceremony in Bali, or some other exotic location.