Headhunter (With Me in Seattle Mafia #2) - Kristen Proby Page 0,54
love you.” Nadia crushes her mouth to his. “Now, get out of here. You can’t see any of this. It’s for girls only.”
“I’ll have food sent up in about thirty minutes. Have fun, ladies.”
He shuts the door behind him, and we all settle in for the fashion show.
“Oh, this is just the best day,” Flavia says as she clasps Katya’s hands. “How lovely.”
Before long, Nadia walks into the room wearing a long column of white. It hugs her curves, has just a hint of lace, and is absolutely gorgeous.
She steps up onto the pedestal that the fashion house brought with them as a woman named Lydia fluffs the trumpet skirt.
“Now, that is gorgeous,” Annika breathes. “The back is stunning.”
I tilt my head, not convinced that it’s the right one.
“Oh, Flavia,” Katya says. “Can you imagine the pretty grandchildren we’ll get?”
“Mom.” Nadia rolls her eyes. “I’m not having babies.”
“Nonsense.” Katya brushes the comment away with the flip of her hand. “Turn this way, please. What do you think?”
“It’s not me,” Nadia replies. It’s pretty, but I don’t like the lace. No lace.”
“Okay, let’s try again.” Lydia smiles and gestures for Nadia to follow her to the changing room.
Two hours, ten dresses, three glasses of champagne, and six finger sandwiches later, Nadia has tears in her eyes as she stares at herself in the mirror.
“Oh, darling,” Flavia breathes. “Carmine will lose his ever-loving mind.”
“He’ll pass right out,” I agree.
“I met him at a wedding,” Nadia whispers. “When I was twelve. And I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my life. And now I’m marrying him.”
Katya rests her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and looks at her in the mirror. The two look so much alike with their fair hair and skin and big, blue eyes.
“You’re a vision,” Katya says. “Your father will blubber like a baby.”
“I’ve never seen Papa cry.”
“Well, you will on your wedding day. Is this the one?”
“Yeah, it’s no contest. Now, I’d better get it off before I rip it or spill something on it.”
“Such a wonderful choice,” Lydia says, nodding in approval. “And this one is on the less-expensive side at only twenty-two thousand dollars.”
I blink, sure I’ve heard her wrong. She added a zero in there somewhere. Right?
But Nadia just nods once, and says, “I’ll take it.”
I love them all so much, but I need a few minutes of quiet. And I want to see Shane. I haven’t seen him hardly at all today, and the fact that I’m having withdrawal is just another clue that I’m totally head-over-heels for the man.
I feel fantastic. My body is loose and relaxed, and I haven’t laughed with my friends so much in years. Things are finally starting to look up.
I am just about to turn the corner into the kitchen when I hear Shane’s voice and stay out of sight, frowning.
“I still can’t believe the son of a bitch is alive.”
“I remember when he was supposedly killed.” That voice is Igor Tarenkov. “Many people wanted him dead.”
“Yeah, Pavlov was a real piece of work,” Carlo Martinelli says. “He was on all of the families’ radars. He was mostly harmless but completely untrustworthy. He was a thief and didn’t even have enough honor to protect his wife and child.”
“I’ve known that Ivie was his daughter since the day Annika brought her home from college,” Igor says, surprising me. I didn’t know that he knew. “I likely knew before Annika did. Ivie is a good girl. She couldn’t be more different than the man who sired her. She certainly doesn’t know that the man lives.”
I cover my mouth, suppressing the sound of my surprised gasp. My father is alive? How? I saw him hanging for myself. We were so sure that the phone number we found was a cover.
Without giving it another thought, I storm into the kitchen, every nerve ending in my body radiating anger and frustration.
“What did you say?” I stare at Shane, my hands on my hips.
“Ivie, we’re in a meeting—”
I step forward until I’m toe-to-toe with him. “What did you just say?”
“I like her,” Carlo says, but I don’t look his way.
“Your father is alive,” Shane says.
“And how long have you known that little piece of information, Shane?”
He doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
“A few days.”
“A few days? Did you know the day we arrived here and we talked? When you fucking swore to me that you didn’t know more?”
His nostrils flare, and I already know the answer.