Silent Lies: An Age Gap Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

“No. It’s a brilliant idea. And I think I have a perfect woman in mind. They’ll make a magnificent match.” A corner of his lips curves upward. “Unless they kill each other in the process.”

She’s like a lone dandelion flower in a sea of thorned roses. It would take only a single gust of wind to hurt her delicate seeds. S

. “No. You need to wipe that glaring look off your face. Insta will censor my post for disturbing content. Again.”

I wrap my arm around his neck, press my cheek to his, and raise the phone.

His eyes are glued to mine, glistening dangerously. Taunting me. Daring me. Daring me to do what? To spit into his face? To start crying? No, that’s not like him.

“Did that thing shrink in the wash?” he asks, giving my sleeves a quizzical once-over.

“Coats need to be dry-cleaned, not washed. And these are three-quarter sleeves.”

“Will you enlighten me on the purpose of a coat with short sleeves?”

I bat my eyelashes at him “To make me look pretty.”

“I need you to find me the most ridiculous-looking tracksuit you have in store.”

The sales lady’s eyes widen in surprise. “The most . . . ridiculous?”

“Yes. Something no sane woman would buy. Screaming fuchsia. Neon-orange. An idiotic animal pattern in a god-awful color. Or something that glitters. Shoes, as well.”

“What is it?”

“I asked if I could come with you?”

“I’m going to a business meeting, Sienna. One that may very well end up with blood being spilled. Of course you can’t come with me.”

“Oh, this is an old blouse. I’ll just throw it away if I get blood on it.” She waves her hand through the air.

I lower my gaze, taking in her shirt. It’s white with an image of a yellow, cross-eyed rabbit holding a carrot. Both the carrot and rabbit’s ears are covered in tiny orange sequins. Why am I not surprised she got married in that? When I look back up, I find her still smiling at me. Is she fucking with me or is she just plain nuts?

This is Zivka, my late father’s ex-wife, who should have introduced herself first.”

Let me look at you.” She leans away and takes my face between her palms. “Oh, you are so pretty and . . .” Her eyes move down over my outfit. “Why are you wearing a chicken costume, sweetie?”

The look of confusion on her face while she’s staring at my jacket is so hilarious, I burst out laughing. When I catch my breath, I say, “I’m Sienna.”

I release the hold on my gun as I watch the spitting image of my bride, minus the crazy outfit, make her way toward Sienna.