Raised by the Mafia

15. Sum of Its Parts (Mila)

When all else fails, wear red for the win. Scarlet energy flows from the gold-trimmed bodice hugging me. The skirts flare out and ripple with it. This night isn't for the understated elegance, it favors the bold.

I expected it and I craved it while I waited for tonight.

What I didn't expect is for my breath to hitch at the sight of Ryan.

Upon our return to L.A., he disappeared to check on his place and his business. I haven't laid my eyes upon him until my hired limo pulled in front of the shop where we had our first meeting. So, Ryan walks out, and my breath hitches, as dumb as it sounds.

Okay, trust me, I know what a man wearing a tux looks like. I know what Ryan looks like. But Ryan wearing the tux is the whole that's more than the sum of its parts.

So much more.

Richard, the miracle-worker, had done a magnificent job, uplifting Ryan's silhouette to a wet dream level. My Galatea has come to life in his full glory.

Despite the frustrating habit of pushing his shortened bangs back or scratching the stubble behind his ear, the haircut settled into a thick wave, rivaling the fabric of his tux in its beautiful black. His face, already well-made, gains new elegance from this transformation.

I steal glances at my new husband, like some sixteenth century damsel given away in marriage. I marvel the whole ride to the venue. Too soon the limo slows down to a stop in front of it. A giant staircase climbs to its doors. Myriad twinkling lights turn the all-windows building on a hill into a palace woven with fairy glow for one night. The banners stream in the wind with the imperial eagles. The Father Frost on the other banners wears furs so luxurious, it would have him spray-painted by the animals' rights activists if he were real.

"We are here," I explain needlessly.

Ryan gives me a curt nod. Then his eyes move back to studying the staircase and the building's entrance. They scan the crowd, sorting the security from the guests in our view. The who-is-who if the L.A. underworld will be here tonight, and Ryan won't be Ryan if he didn't look for trouble.

"The ambush is unlikely, my darling," I whisper to him. "Once we get inside, there's a metal detector to prevent firearm-related unpleasantries."

"Sure, once we inside. But the snipers on the roof are a terrible nuisance. Ruining your dress would be a crime."

"Glad you approve my choice." I smooth the skirt over my knee. "I trust you'll catch a bullet to save it."

"The highest honor I can dream of, Naz. However, just in case I'm not on hand to give my life for your dress, watch your back."

A twitch of his lips hints at a smile, but before it fully develops, he rushes to do his duties and opens the car door for me. Once I grip his wrist and he extricates me from the limo's leather seat, I add, "You too, Ryan. Watch your back, I mean."

The tux fits him too well to stain it with blood. Plus, a bullet in the back is a fate I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. To the forehead or in the chest, when it's one's own fault, is another matter.

Ignoring the mad pounding of my heart, I set my foot onto the first of the carpeted steps. The watchful eyes of the security guards and costumed staff train on me. My hand slips into the waiting crook of Ryan's arm and the familiar sensation of my body moving a split second ahead of my brain tickles me. I felt it many times before, always in a fight. Perhaps, this instinct kicked in here because Ryan and I are always sparring, verbally at least. This time we don't fight. Just move in unison with one another. Flow, as if we're already dancing.

Together, we climb the staircase. Liveries, tuxes, and impractical gowns swirl all the way to the mirror-fountains-tropical-flora decorated entrance.

Once we are through the doors and the metal detectors I promised Ryan, and into the foyer, I catch the first glimpse of us together in full ball gear. The wall-to-wall mirror doesn't lie. He frames me so squarely, I can't believe I had this dress picked with the soft-serve Luca in mind. Ryan is perfect for this cut and this shade of red. This man's perfect for me.