Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
That was all he had going for him. One other thing the two brothers shared. His energy bit at hers, though. And not in a good way.
She lost the smile. “Thanks.”
He nodded at her, stopping a step above Carina to lean back and drop a quick kiss to his adopted sister’s cheek. That one, she allowed.
“Sis,” he greeted.
“Marco,” Carina greeted, and then to the other man who had remained silent throughout the entire exchange, she added, “And Anthony.”
“How’s Little Nicky been treating you?” Anthony asked, grinning. “Behaving, I hope?”
Carina didn’t answer.
“Nico is fine,” Frankie said.
Anthony’s chin jerked up slightly, his upper lip curving slightly higher on one side like he’d just got what he wanted somehow and was so pleased about it. Without another word, the two men took their leave to follow the others.
“Knew it,” she heard Anthony mutter, “fucking familiar.”
Marco said nothing but glanced back at her.
She forced herself not to look away.
•••
Three hours later...
“Okay, take a break,” Carina said, coming up behind a grimacing Frankie who tried to hide it by downing a flute of champagne. Her third in an hour. “For your feet and from the liquor.”
“Where’s that spray?” she asked.
“I have a can in every bathroom. Find one upstairs. Your father has all the upper rooms and staircases roped off. No one will notice; I’ll make sure.”
Frankie let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“And that’s enough champagne,” Carina repeated.
“I heard you, mother.”
The flippant remark, which Frankie had meant to be sarcastic and playful, stopped both at once.
“U-uh,” Frankie stammered.
“Stop that,” Carina said firmly but with a smile playing at the edges of her pink lips, “it’s okay. Get going before someone comes to say goodbye and you’re standing for another ten minutes.”
“Right, got it.”
Carina’s laughter followed Frankie as she weaved through the people in the gallery room. A massive space currently draped in rose-gold and black silks that could double as a dining hall and ballroom with ten-minute changes by a team her father and Carina always used for parties. She admired the way the silk tapestries hung in ropes between the many shimmering chandeliers.
Frankie knew the deal when it came to avoiding people, so as she made her way through them knowing she was supposed to be the star of the show, she looked at no one in particular. Still smiling the whole way, it was easier to look through people than meet their eyes which would undoubtedly cause a conversation.
Her feet really did hurt.
The pink So Kates was a personal favorite, and the red pop at the bottom of the shoe contrasted well with the pink of the heels and her dress. Delicate gold jewelry hung like glittering threads down her throat, on her wrists, and even her ring stacks on both hands were made up of thin bands. Nobody could ever say that Carina didn’t know how to style.
A few minutes later, Frankie safely made it inside an upstairs guest bathroom in the hallway that led to her father’s study. It was the closest. She dug for the lidocaine spray.
Frankie let out a sigh, already feeling the relief, when she found the can. Sitting on the corner stool, she pulled the heels off and got to work. The stuff needed time to work after applying, so she enjoyed flattening her soles to cold marble.
“Finally,” she breathed.
“Aw, babe, come on,” came a voice from the doorway. Frankie’s head popped up, and Nico eyed her disapprovingly from the doorway. “That shit again? The pain means—”
“Look at this dress, Nico,” she replied hotly, needing him to get it for once. They could quit having this conversation every time she wanted to put on a pair of shoes. “Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me my body would look half as good wearing this dress if those heels weren’t on my feet? Honestly.”
“You’re gorgeous regardless.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No, that’s called a trap, babe. You’re not pulling me into it.”
Frankie grinned, shaking her head slightly. “I am serious, though. You know the heels do it every time.”
He sighed, coming to stand fully in the doorway and lean against the frame. His gaze drank her in, and she felt it from the soles of her feet to the roots of her hair. A heat raced and pooled in all the right spots. The ache in her feet changed to somewhere else entirely.
“If it’s lost on you,” he told her, shrugging, “I just made you feel like that in bare feet. The heels make your ass look great, but you’re wearing the dress either way.”
She swallowed hard.
“What are you doing up here, anyway? You’re not supposed to be with me, remember?”
“Not more than twice unless required. This is one, steps don’t count.”
He winked.
She just laughed.
“I think I saw you more than anyone else tonight, though.”
He smirked. “Seen but not heard.”