The Woman with the Ring (Costa Family)

Well, I guess I was about to find out since I wasn’t going to be allowed to contact her.

And just like that, any traces of a good mood vacated me as well.

We were a solemn trio for the rest of the shopping trip. I didn’t even get a thrill when I dropped a couple grand unnecessarily at the makeup and perfume counters.

By the time we got to the box store to get my other essentials from conditioner and razors to tampons and a toothbrush, I was good and done with the day.

I just wanted to go back to the apartment and take a long bath before crashing hard.

I shouldn’t have been so tired. Compared to my normal life which included work and often at least one family function of some sort, this was a tame, relaxed day. But I felt physically and emotionally drained as I helped the guys cart my bags up into the apartment.

I put some of my basic things away, but left everything else in the main living space for Primo to see when he got home. Hopefully it would make him check his credit card statement so he could see the dent I’d put into his bank account.

Though, now that the day was mostly over, the thrill over his reaction to the whole thing had waned.

I just wanted to sleep.

I just wanted to escape back into a world where I could see my family again since they always tended to pop into my dreams.

Dawson and Dulles retired to the living room with something on the TV as I went upstairs to squeeze in that bath I’d wanted before getting myself ready for dinner.

Did I put a full face of makeup on?

Damn straight I did.

And I put on a simple black dress that had cost nearly a thousand dollars, put on shoes that cost about the same, and spritzed on some of my personal favorite perfume. I’d debated buying one of the bottles that cost over five hundred dollars. They’d even smelled divine. But in the end, I’d gone with the perfume I’d been wearing since my sixteenth birthday when my mother had brought me to Macy’s and told me that it was an important part of a woman’s life to choose her signature scent, and that I should take as long as I needed to figure out what mine was. I had that afternoon. I’d worn the same scent ever since. It was a comfort thing. And it made me feel attached to my mom.

“Hey, Izzy, babe,” Dulles called through the bedroom door, “I get that you are doing that whole making him wait thing, but you just aren’t going to want to push it. Primo hates waiting,” he added.

“And what do you think he could possibly do to me if I make him wait, that is worse than forcing me to marry him?” I asked, walking through the bedroom, grabbing a clutch that was empty save for lipstick and eyeliner since I literally didn’t have anything else. No cell, no money, no ID, no credit cards. It just felt right to have it.

“Wow,” he said as I pulled open the door. “You look good, woman,” he said, nodding. “My brother is a lucky man.”

“Your brother is a vicious bastard.”

“Which is why he is lucky to get someone like you,” Dulles said, eyes a little darker than usual before I started to follow him down the stairs.

“Is this another walking to the restaurant thing?” I asked, already feeling my shoes start to pinch. They were, as my mom would call them, ‘sit down shoes.’ I should have tried to stretch them out before wearing them.

“It’s not far, but we’re driving you and dropping you out front,” Dulles said.

“Finally off duty, huh? You must hate having to play babysitter.”

“It beats some of the other jobs,” Dawson said, holding my jacket out for me.

And with that, it was back out of the apartment. I never thought I would rather stay in the home of my abductor, but within only one day, I was preferring that to leaving.

The restaurant Primo chose was intimate and seemed somewhere between casual and formal, which made my dress work perfectly.

I shrugged out of my jacket to hang it by the door, knowing it was too long to fold over the back of my chair, then offered the hostess a smile.

“I am meeting…”

“Yes, Mrs. Esposito,” the hostess said, giving me a service-smile. “Your husband is…” she started, half-turning.

“Oh, I see him,” I said, even if I was still reeling from being called Mrs. Esposito and having a stranger refer to Primo as my husband. That was going to take some adjusting to.

Primo’s gaze found me right then, his eyes doing a slow once-over of me before he got to his feet. I swear he did it in slow motion. His hand rose to secure his jacket button. It was such an old-fashioned gesture that I found myself charmed by it despite myself.