Say Daddy A Mafia Billionaire Romance - Shanna Handel Page 0,54

week. Of hell.

The worst part?

I can’t bear the thought of sharing Luke, even for a second. I’m already picturing her, prancing around in jeans too tight, the neckline of her shirt too low, trying to garner the attentions of a billionaire of her own.

Or worse, flirt with mine.

It’s dampening my mood, robbing me of the joy I should be experiencing with my engagement and wedding planning. So much so that I’m wondering if Luke was right when he suggested we not have her come at all. Despite all the pain she’s caused me, I just can’t be mean back. It’s not in my nature.

Back home, I once hit a bunny with my car. I couldn’t sleep for three nights. That’s the type of person I am.

No match whatsoever for my mother’s selfish ways and stinging words.

Since Luke put a ring on my finger, he’s insisted I stop working, focusing only on wedding plans and anything else that will make me happy. I can’t believe my life. I wake in his arms, kiss him goodbye, then dine and shop and plan all day while he works.

In the evenings, we eat together at our tiny kitchen table, two candles lighting our faces.

And then there’s my entrance into the tribe I’ve admired for so long.

When you’re a child, once in a while an event will be looming in your future and you look forward to it so much that you can’t sleep; it’s all you think about. Then the magical event finally comes, and it’s a total letdown because it can never, ever live up to the expectation you created in your mind.

Not this.

Being a Beauty is everything I dreamed it would be. Friendships form effortlessly, the women taking me into their fold, making me one of their own. Having our unique lifestyles in common seems to be a sort of quick drying bonding glue that brings us together.

Charlotte and I spend twice as much time with one another now that I’m not working. We sip coffees, staring over pages and pages of glossy wedding books.

I’m invited to their weekly Girls’ Night Out in the city. We dress up, go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant, then take in a movie, or go to a Broadway play. All the while, talking and laughing, sharing secrets.

It’s the life I’ve dreamed of.

So why is there this putrid feeling in my gut, gnawing at me day and night, telling me that when my mother arrives, they’ll all see me for what I really am—a nobody whose own mother wanted nothing to do with her?

She’s going to ruin my life.

Again.

Chapter Fourteen

Luke

Tori wasn’t exaggerating; her mother is a monster. And it’s not even like she’s one of those ‘oh, poor dear, she’s had a hard life’ women you could at least feel sorry for. ‘Mags,’ as she calls herself, is just plain mean.

And terribly dressed. The clothes she wears would be inappropriate for a teen and certainly shouldn’t be in her closet. If I get one more flash of her silicone, beach ball breasted cleavage, I’m going to vomit.

I tried to like her.

For Tori’s sake, I tried to be cordial, not wanting to make the visit any more painful than it already was.

But everyone has a line. And I have the feeling she’s going to cross mine, very soon.

We’ve had to put off our move to the Village, since Mags isn’t allowed to stay there. She was supposed to stay at our apartment, but to spare Tori the pain, I’ve put Mags up in a hotel and set her up with a driver to keep her out of our space as much as possible.

We’ve taken her to dinner every night. She’s made a habit of ordering the most expensive thing on the menu. Requesting a bottle of wine, then keeping it all to herself.

We’ve taken her to plays, museums, parks. Hit all the hotspots in town. She complains of the crowds, the weather, the noise, the traffic.

We just have to get through one more dinner, then she’ll go back to her hotel and in the morning my driver will return her home. Mags will be gone and out of our lives. Of course, she’s assuming she’ll be returning for our upcoming nuptials. She’s already mentioned the seven hundred dollar a night hotel she’s hoping to stay at.

I haven’t told Tori yet, but I’m going to put my foot down. This woman will not be at our wedding. Or in our lives.

Tori is a shell of herself around