“Where is she?”
“Inside, by the fireplace. She’s fine. I got her back safely and she didn’t get the chance to get in trouble.”
“Fuck it!” Samuel snarled. “Sofia isn’t the type to sneak off to a party.”
I smiled bitterly. “Anna seems to be, and Santino isn’t really helping matters.”
“Fuck. I should tell Dante.”
“You should keep your mouth shut or it’ll reflect badly on Sofia. You know how it is. Anna and the Cavallaros will get out of the situation unscathed, and our families will be left to suffer. Nothing happened, so don’t make a big deal.”
Samuel gritted his teeth. “I don’t like it. I want Santino to be punished.”
“From what I can tell, he’s punished with the task of guarding Dante’s offspring. Let’s keep it at that.”
I got into my car and Samuel stepped back. “Maybe you should try not to get shitfaced so often. I hope you didn’t throw up in my lodge.”
“How about you stop fucking blonde chicks?”
I swallowed my anger. He had a point. And after last night, my futile quest for revenge was over. “I’m done fucking around, don’t worry. I’ll focus on work until my wedding to Sofia.”
Samuel’s brow furrowed in doubt, but I didn’t give a fuck. I threw the door shut and drove off.“Sofia, Anna we’ll be late!” Mom called.
I fixed a wayward strand hanging out of my ponytail and studied my reflection. Anna entered the bathroom and hugged me from behind, resting her chin on my shoulder. “You okay?”
I smiled. “Yeah. I am, really.” She’d been asking me the same question on the phone every day for the past two weeks.
I was okay, physically. My soreness had disappeared after a couple of days. My emotions were still all over the place, though. Each time Danilo had sent me a message inquiring about my well-being, which had happened four times in the last two weeks, I had been overwhelmed by mixed emotions. Finally, anger had won out and I’d made it clear I didn’t want him to keep bugging me.
“Try to enjoy the day. You’ve been looking forward to dress shopping for years.”
I put my hand over Anna’s. “I will, don’t worry. This dress is about me, not Danilo. I won’t waste any thoughts on him.”
But I still wished Mom had made an appointment for wedding-dress shopping sooner—before the party; before I realized my fiancé wasn’t what my silly hopes had made him out to be.
We were already late by wedding-planner standards. Six months before the wedding was the magical date to order a dress, but Mom had insisted we wait a bit longer. I had a feeling she was being superstitious, as if we’d be tempting fate if we bought the dress too soon, as if history might repeat itself. Emma had already bought her dress a few weeks before Christmas.
Anna had arrived the night before, and we’d watched movies and talked until way past midnight, so we both had trouble getting up early for the appointment.
“Sofia! Anna!”
Anna and I grabbed our purses and headed downstairs. Mom was already waiting, dressed in a thick winter coat and looking impatient.
We put our own coats on before we headed toward the car in the driveway. Samuel was at the steering wheel. Carlo and two other bodyguards would follow us in a separate car.
Samuel gave me a tight smile before we headed out. I’d been present when Emma had chosen her dress, and I hoped my brother would love it as much as I did. I was sad that Emma couldn’t make it today, but what saddened me even more was that Fina wasn’t with me. Whenever I’d imagined this day as a young girl, both Mom and Fina had been present. Now, my sister was thousands of miles away from me. I hadn’t seen or heard from her in more than five years, and now that my wedding day was nearing, I was desperate to talk to her.
We pulled up in front of the best bridal store in Minneapolis.
When we stepped into the bright store, giddiness replaced my sadness. Hundreds of dresses lined the walls on two levels, an endless array of different shades of white. In the past, I’d always seen myself in a princess gown with lace, rhinestones, and a full skirt. Just like a Disney princess, as Anna always put it, but I wasn’t that same naïve girl anymore. I knew Prince Charming didn’t exist in real life.
The saleswoman, a voluptuous woman in her late fifties with bright red lipstick and long nails the same color, greeted us with a tray of champagne. Mom pursed her lips when Anna and I reached for the elegant flutes but didn’t comment. The saleswoman led us into a separate fitting room that held only the most exclusive pieces how she assured us.
“Why don’t you browse the dresses and pick five or six of your favorites to try on? I recommend against choosing more than that, because eventually they’ll just start to blend into each other, and you’ll be overwhelmed.” With a bright smile, she left to give us privacy.