We celebrated the engagement at our home. High tables and buffet tables were still arranged in our living room and the yard from my eighteenth birthday party the day before. Though party was the wrong word for the social gathering my parents had prepared. It was a soiree that required me to smile politely and engage in small talk. Definitely not the excitement I抎 hoped for. I promised myself to party once I was in Paris, away from prying eyes. Santino could sulk all he wanted, I抎 have the time of my life in Paris.
I抎 picked a white cocktail dress for the occasion, trying to play the good mafia princess everyone wanted me to be. Santino didn抰 react to my choice of color. Usually he would have commented on it, but he was being overly professional these days.
His vigilant mask didn抰 crack in the slightest when Mrs. Clark entered the room at her husband抯 side. Heat traveled up my throat. I wasn抰 sure if she knew that I抎 caught her with Santino. I was pretty sure Clifford was unaware of his mother抯 extramarital activities and I had no intention to tell him. It would only cast a bad light on the Outfit. My loyalties didn抰 lie with Clifford but with my family, and I doubted that would ever change. He was a means to an end, and so was I for him.
My family greeted the Clarks under the watchful eyes of our guests. We had invited people from the political elite as well as important families from the Outfit. Of course, the press was invited as well. Clark Senior had insisted on it. His entire life played out before cameras.
Clifford gave me a tense smile. In his form-fitting suit, he looked really dapper. He抎 even cut his sonny boy hair short.
揧ou cut your hair,?I murmured.
揗y father thought it would look better on camera.?
I nodded, though I didn抰 agree. Then my gaze dragged over to Mrs. Clark who kept looking at Santino. If she kept it up, someone would eventually realize something was going on between them. I really hoped Santino would have the decency to keep his hands to himself today. If he dared banging her at my engagement party, I wouldn抰 have to tell Dad about Santino抯 sexual activities, I抎 kill him myself.
Fury sizzled in my belly.
I抎 thought I was over my anger, but seeing Mrs. Clark now, I realized my jealousy still burned brightly. It was a very sobering realization.
I tore my gaze away and motioned Clifford to follow me to the fireplace. Dad and Mr. Clark stepped in front of our guests and shook hands, then Dad addressed the crowd, officially announcing my engagement to Clifford.
Sofia caught my eyes across the room. She stood beside her husband Danilo. They seemed to have overcome some of their difficulties from the beginning of their bond. Before my birthday party, I hadn抰 seen her in almost two months. I could tell that she was eager for a conversation. Talking over the phone was always risky so I hadn抰 been able to share details of my recent interactions with Santino with her yet.
After a few photos of our families, and Clifford and I holding hands and smiling at each other, the guests began to swarm around us to congratulate us. There was curiosity in the eyes of many, especially the political guests, while wariness lingered on the faces of many Made Men and their families. I knew my marriage to Clifford was a very controversial topic in the Outfit, but I trusted in Mom抯 and Dad抯 judgment regarding the bond.
Eventually the constant hand-shaking and small talk got overwhelming, even for someone as accustomed to it as me.
Clifford gave me a look that suggested he felt the same way. 揟he photographers must have taken a billion photos of us by now.?
揑抦 sure they抣l pick the least favorable. They always make the best stories,?I muttered under my breath. I had a love-hate relationship with the press, especially after they ridiculed one of the outfits that I抎 put together a few months ago and worn to a charity event: a flowy oversized blazer almost reaching my knees that was held together by a wide belt and micro-shorts plus a lace bralette beneath it. What had really set them off had been the checkered knee-socks matching the blazer that I抎 combined with ridiculously high heels.
I抎 felt a great amount of satisfaction when not long after the derogatory article, girls not only from our circle but socialites from Chicago as well had started wearing similar outfits to parties and public events.
Clifford cleared his throat at my badmouthing of the press and a tense pause ensued. Too many people were watching our interaction, analyzing every facial expression, trying to read from our lips. Clifford was a politician抯 son. Pissing off the press probably was very high on his list of things to avoid. 揂 good love story sells too.?
I shrugged. It probably did, but I wasn抰 sure we抎 convince them our story was one of love. Maybe it was just my overthinking mind but I doubted anyone would see sparks flying between Clifford and me.