The Enemy in My Bed by L.K. Shaw

Epilogue

2 weekslater

I glance around the room.Of course, everyone is staring at us. They’re staring at me, rather. I’m the outsider. The interloper. The Russian who has infiltrated their organization. No matter that I’m doing it on Pierce’s arm. I spot a couple of women whispering behind their hands. We pass through the throng of people, each one dressed in fancy suits and even fancier dresses while they sip their champagne. They’re all here to celebrate the wedding of the head of their organization and his lovely Irish bride.

“This is such a bad idea,” I say softly, fidgeting with the seam of the most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever worn before.

Pierce glances down at me with his fierce expression. “What is?”

I roll my eyes at him. “Me. Being here. In a room full of Italians.”

“Don’t forget the Irish,” he says, not the least bit concerned with that I’m saying.

“That’s even worse. Everyone here hates me.” I cringe at my whiny tone.

“They don’t even know you yet. And not everyone here hates you. In fact, I can think of four or five people who are pretty fond of you.”

“Five out of several hundred doesn’t really make me feel better.” Except it does. I do have a few allies here. I only wish a couple more of them would show up.

As though my wish is being granted, Francesca comes threading through a crowd of people, waving over her head in greeting. She gives me a hug as soon as she meets up with us.

“I’m so glad you guys made it.”

A moment later, a dark-haired man maybe a few years older than me, with a hard cast over the lower half of an arm, limps over. Francesca smiles shyly at his arrival. “Mila, this is my friend, Giovanni. Gio this is Mila.”

This is the bodyguard that had been shot by Mikhail’s men the night they captured Brenna. I give him a polite nod. “It’s nice to meet you.”

He returns the gesture with a tight smile. His cool greeting isn’t a surprise, nor do I blame him for it. The Russians almost killed him that night. I’m sure I’m nothing but a reminder of those who hurt him. My gaze darts to Francesca. And of those who hurt her.

“There you are.”

Everyone turns at the new voice. Brenna and Jacob approach, the former with a huge welcoming grin. She, too, envelops me in a hug. It’s a bit surreal being embraced by these two women. We should be enemies, yet they’ve made me feel more welcome than I have before in my entire life. Her husband greets me with a polite, “Mila.”

“Emilio,” I reply with a small, but just as polite, smile. The name Jacob is reserved for his wife and two cousins, but his giving me permission to call him another name besides Mr. Ricci is a huge sign of his acceptance of me. Of my relationship with his cousin. It’s a courtesy I won’t ever take for granted.

Pierce leans down and gives me a soft kiss. “Jacob and I have some business to discuss. Will you be okay here?”

Brenna wraps one hand around my arm and pulls me against her while she waves him off with the other. “She’s in good hands. Go, take care of your business.”

The way she says it earns her a glare from both Pierce and her husband, but the two men, as well as Francesca’s friend, Giovanni, move away, leaving us alone. Brenna turns toward me with a little twirl. “Thank god, they’re gone. Let’s go get a drink.”

The three of us head over to the bar. She and Francesca order a glass of wine and I order a soda. We move to stand against one of the walls and observe the crowd of people.

“This has been the most exhausting night of my life,” Brenna says. “I’ve met more people than I thought possible, and being Jacob’s wife I’m expecting to learn and remember all their names. It’s a terrifying prospect. I hadn’t realized how many families were part of the syndicate.”

Francesca laughs. “You don’t have to memorize them all tonight. There’s plenty of time. I don’t think anyone expects you to know all their names before the party ends.”

“Still, it’s intimidating.” Brenna huffs out a breath. “Anyway, how about you, Mila. Are you having a nice time?”

I nearly laugh out loud. “I’m not sure I would call it nice. I’ve gotten quite a few cautious looks and more than enough glares. I understand Emilio prepared his captains at some meeting, but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking being in the company of hundreds of people who think I’m their enemy.”

“Everyone will come to love you in no time. They just have to get to know you,” Brenna tries to reassure me.

I appreciate her trying. We stand there chatting and watching the crowd. My eyes keep drifting to the same spot across the room.

“Who is that?” I discreetly gesture at the statuesque woman with the perfect hourglass figure who’s been staring at me with pure hatred ever since we walked in the door.

Brenna and Francesca’s gaze follow the direction. The latter sucks in a breath and starts coughing.

“Are you okay?” I ask

She clears her throat a few more times and takes a sip of her wine. “I’m fine,” she says, but looks decidedly uncomfortable.

“Francesca? Do you know who she is?”

Her eyes won’t meet mine. “Her name is Gianna.”

“Why has she spent the whole night looking as though she’d like to claw my eyes out?”

She shifts nervously, but finally blows out a breath. “She was Pierce’s mistress.”

That nauseated feeling drops into my gut again. “Oh.”

“He hasn’t seen her since he met you,” she rushes out.

I take the woman in again. From her sleek brown hair pulled over one shoulder in a perfect side pony tail to the body-hugging royal blue dress that only accents every dip and curve of a figure I’d kill for. “She’s very beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful, too,” Brenna adds. “Don’t pay her any attention. She’s just jealous.”

I try to smile, but that ugly green monster fills me with doubt. I can’t compare to her. My boobs may be overly large, but otherwise I’m practically a stick. My hair is still a short, ragged mess that looks like a child cut it. Plus, she’s Italian. The type of woman that Pierce should be with. One who won’t make him have to always prove his loyalty.

“Whatever you’re thinking, you need to stop thinking it,” Francesca scolds.

“You’re right. Pierce is with me now. Whoever was in his past doesn’t matter.” I look away from the other woman, and the lie slips easily from my lips.

Francesca reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Exactly. Forget about her. She’s not important.”

“Oh, shit,” Brenna mumbles.

Our eyes shoot to hers, but she’s not looking at us. Instead her focus is over my shoulder.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up here,” a bitter, angry voice says directly behind me.

I turn and standing less than five feet from me is Pierce’s former lover. Shit, is right. She’s even more beautiful up close. If I don’t count the sneer on her face as she stares down her nose at me.

“Hi, I’m Mila,” I say, trying to be polite.

The woman—Gianna—curls her lip in disgust. “I know who you are. We all know who you are. You’re that Russian. Look at you, acting like you belong here. You will never belong. Everyone will always see you as nothing but the enemy.”

Brenna opens her mouth, but a furious, baritone voice beats her to it. “What the fuck did you say?”

In unison, we all spin around to find Pierce standing with arms crossed, his face a mask of pure rage. Something I haven’t seen since those first few days of our relationship. Jacob, with an equally fierce expression, flanks him.

“Pierce, honey.” Gianna reaches out to lay her hand on his arm, but he knocks it away.

“Don’t touch me,” he bites out viciously.

Her face pales.

“Jacob, get her out of here before I do something I’ll regret.” He steps over to me, completely ignoring the woman in question, as though she no longer exists.

A small scuffle ensues as a couple men drag Gianna, who’s in tears, off, but then I lose sight of her.

“She’s lucky you showed up when you did,” Brenna says. “I was about to start swearing. And you know I don’t do that.”

Jacob chuckles and wraps an arm around her waist. “But it sounds so sexy coming from your sweet mouth.”

She blushes three shades of pink, but I can tell the compliment pleases her. A phone rings and Jacob reaches into his inner jacket pocket with a frown.

“Ricci.”

His entire demeanor changes in seconds. Only moments ago he’d been smiling, affection for his wife obvious in his eyes. Everything disappears, and his face is a blank slate.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He disconnects the call and pockets his phone.

Brenna’s hand rests on his chest. “Jacob, is everything all right?”

He shakes himself out of wherever he just went and glances down at his wife and then meets Pierce’s gaze. “That was Marta. My father’s dead.”