Hope

Hope
I kiss Michael’s lips, feeling a little numbness in my mouth. Maybe I drank a bit too much, but I’m not sure and I don’t care. Tonight, I couldn’t care less about anything except having fun.

Emily also drank more than she should have, and we’re starting to get hoarse from shouting so much, singing at the top of our lungs. Josephine is the only one who stays half-sober, but only because she’s more interested in hitting on my brother. It’s fun watching him try to dodge her advances without being rude.

"How much have you had to drink?" Michael asks, pulling back from our kiss. His blue eyes sparkle, happy, lit up by the colorful lights.

"Just a little." I pinch my thumb and index finger in front of my face. He laughs, sniffs my neck, and sets me down.

"Let me know when you want to leave," he says.

"We’re staying here all night," I sing.

A lively Katy Perry song starts playing and I scream, jumping in place. I grab his hand and pull him to the dance floor. Michael looks bored, refusing to dance. He stands like a lamppost. I grab his hands, moving them with my body. Slowly, he starts to loosen up, rolls his eyes, then grabs my waist with one arm, pressing his forehead to mine as he sways his hips to the beat. Now another song starts, a more sensual one.

I slide my hands over his chest, squeezing the flesh beneath his shirt. I kiss his chin, tilt my head back, raise my arms, and dance to the melody, rubbing our bodies together in a slow, alluring rhythm. The colors blur around me, the world slows down, and in that instant, there’s only me and Michael in the VIP room, dancing pressed against each other.

The song ends, another begins, and we stay locked in our bubble for a while longer—dancing close, kissing, enjoying the moment as if we were alone. The heat builds, I stare into his piercing blue eyes, breathe heavily against his mouth, touch his soft lips, and kiss him with desire.

I want Michael to be mine.
That’s all my drunken mind thinks.

"You’re mine," I whisper to him.

"Completely," he murmurs, grabbing my hair and kissing my neck.

"I need another drink," I say when my mouth feels dry.

"Are you sure? You’re already tipsy."

"Absolutely."

I let go of his body and head to the barwoman to order another pink drink, the name of which I forgot after my third glass. Emily leans nearby, watching Daniel from a distance. He’s sitting on the couch, eyes locked on her, as if he wanted to get closer but knew he couldn’t—or my friend would rip his balls off.

"Still mad at him?" I ask, swaying.

"He’s a dog, left me alone to go chase women with Kai."

"Gross." I roll my eyes. "I’d rather not think about how many women Michael hooked up with before we got married." I click my tongue. "That doesn’t really matter anymore."

"How not?" She frowns, indignant. "We can’t sleep with anyone but our husbands, but they get to be with half the world!"

"Something about proving their masculinity," I shrug. "I never cared about that." I grab my pink drink, tasting the sweet flavor mixed with alcohol’s bitterness. "Delicious."

"Well, I care."

I set the drink on the counter and grab her shoulders, trying to focus on her blurred face.

"You and Daniel weren’t promised to each other. Technically, he doesn’t have to be faithful." She opens her mouth to argue, but I hush her with a "shhh." "I’m still taaaalking," my tongue slurs, and I laugh. "Instead of being jealous and upset, make him want to spend more time with you than with any other woman."

"I can’t sleep with him," she says sadly. "You know that."

"But you don’t need sex to be more interesting." I smack a kiss on her cheek. "You’re amazing, and you don’t have to rely on sex."

"So what do I do with this pain?" She points to her chest.

"Your brother is the Boss. Make him give you Daniel."

Emily thinks about what I said. A light sparks on her face when she finds the answer she needs. She nods, grabs my drink, and downs it in one gulp, grimacing as she slams the glass on the counter.

"Daniel will be mine, whether he wants it or not," she declares.

"That’s it, girl." We high-five, squealing a little. "Just don’t do anything you’ll regret."

"I’ll check with you first." She stumbles, tripping over her own feet. Before I can catch her, strong arms grab her waist, her face falling against Daniel’s gray shirt. He strokes a strand of her hair gently, his features soft as he looks at drunken Emily.

"You’re gooooing to be miiiine," she slurs.

"I already am," he whispers with sorrow, and I can feel the pain those words cause him. A warning flashes in my mind. How can he say he’s hers with such sadness? Almost like condemning her to hell for it.

Emily stands, and I’m not sure if she even heard what Daniel said. She starts dancing clumsily. He smiles faintly, guiding her to sit on the couch while making her drink from a water bottle. I notice Michael watching carefully, his brow furrowed in doubt. Kai says something to him, and his gaze finds mine. He beckons me with his fingers. I order another drink and go to him, sitting on his lap.

"Kaizinho," I greet the other one, gorgeous as hell with his long hair falling into his eyes.

"Don’t call me that," he says, annoyed. "Makes me sound like a kid."

"A liiiittle baby," I tease, poking his cheek.

"What did you say to Emily?" Michael asks in my ear.

"I don’t remember." I try to recall our conversation, but things are too blurry, and I’m not sure what I said.

"Hope forgets things when she drinks," Black says, sitting beside Kai. "Take your sister away from me or I’ll kill her," he tells Kai, who laughs.

"Endure the suffering I deal with every day."

"You’re all so annoying," I accuse. "Josephine is nice," I add, pulling up a memory. "When she’s not talking about Black." I roll my eyes. "It’s your fault she’s annoying."

"That makes no sense, Hope," Black replies.

"I agree," Kai says. "Josephine’s a demon, even when she’s not talking about Black."

"I don’t understand why she likes me," Black mutters. "We’ve never talked long enough for that."

I glance at Josephine, dancing alone, staring down at the crowd through the club’s glass wall. In that second, I understand—she’s lonely, and the only way she found to be heard was by being inconvenient, forcing her presence where it wasn’t wanted.

I remember my bridal shower. Whenever she was left alone, she’d come to talk to me and Emily. She never knew what to say, so she’d start by asking about Black. But when the subject changed, she’d go along more calmly, even controlled. As if it were a relief to have something to talk about with other people.

"Josephine," I call. She smiles, hurrying over.

"Shit," Black mutters.

Unlike what my brother thinks, she doesn’t sit next to him. She comes to my side, crosses her legs, ignoring Black and Kai. I hold out my hand and get up from my husband’s lap.

"Want to dance?"

"Of course," she answers excitedly. Right there, we start moving to the music, and I prove my theory to myself. She’s lonely—she just wants friends.

A blur of blond hair crashes into me. I stumble back but am caught by my husband, who glares at Emily for almost knocking me over. She smiles with flushed cheeks, unfocused eyes, maybe even drunker than me.

I ignore the grumpy man behind me and we go back to dancing as a trio. Eventually, the men drift away, chatting among themselves while we enjoy our night.

I don’t know how it happens, but at some point, my eyes grow so heavy. I collapse onto the couch, lying down for five minutes. I wake up parched, my head pounding, my vision blurred. I spot a pillow, a white blanket, and an arm around my waist. I turn and see my husband sleeping.

I poke his cheek, the world spinning around me.

"Mm?" he murmurs sleepily.

"Water," I croak.

"There’s some by the bed," he says without opening his eyes.

I turn and find a jug, a glass, and a pack of pills on the nightstand. I stretch out my hand, trying to force the world to stay still, everything spinning around me. I flop back down without drinking and groan loudly. Michael sighs beside me, gets up, walks around the bed, fills the glass, and hands me the pill. I sit up, my head unbearably heavy, leaning against him as I drink the pill and water desperately.

"Very nauseous?" he asks.

"I could throw up right now," I reply.

"If you want, I’ll take you to the bathroom."

"Thank you." I gag. My throat burns with heartburn.

Michael strokes my back for a while. Slowly, the nausea eases. He lies down again, pulling me against his chest. The smell of my husband calms my sick body. His hand moves up and down my spine, stroking gently. His lips press a kiss to the top of my head. Slowly, sleep lulls me again, and I drift off with him.

I wake to the bright light from the windows, the housekeeper Anastasia opening the curtains with a smile. I frown, hiding my face under the sheets, wanting to sleep a little longer. Yesterday I had a hellish hangover, barely left the bed, and slept more than in a lifetime.

"Today is Ladies’ Saturday at the club. You can’t miss it," she says, patting my leg lightly.

"Don’t remind me," I grumble.

Tradition has it that the first Saturday after the honeymoon, the family’s women gather at the club to talk and inform the new member about how things in New York mafia high society will be for the coming year. At the few gatherings I attended in Las Vegas, I wanted to drown all those chatty women in the pool. With no choice, I get up to get ready.

At lunchtime, Michael shows up impeccable in a beige suit, his hair slicked back. I’ve barely had time to see my husband. My stomach tightens in anticipation of him coming to me, keeping his word that we would always share meals together.

Slowly, the loneliness began to fade, replaced by the comfort of his company. I caress his neck, intoxicated by his masculine scent, his relaxed features pulling into a side smile. I stand on tiptoe to steal a kiss.

"Beautiful," he says between caresses. "I married the hottest woman in this country," he grabs my ass, pulling me against him, "and probably in the world."

"My husband isn’t so bad himself," I tease, holding back laughter at his disbelieving look. His fingers slide under my dress, tickling the back of my thigh. I squeal, trying to escape, and fall deeper into his trap. "I’m kidding!" I shout, tears in my eyes from laughing.

"Say it again." He pins my waist against his.

"My husband is incredibly hot," I bite my lip. "I hit the jackpot."

Michael grins, satisfied, before pulling me into a long kiss. In that second, fear creeps in—fear of what the future might bring, that moments like this will become nothing but sweet memories once my past comes back to collect its debt, destroying what we’ve been slowly building.