Stealing the Groom

Thirty

XXX: Con te partirò

CHRISTMAS IS SUPPOSED to be the best time of the year, a time for the family to come together and celebrate. But in the inner NJ circle, it serves as a public spectacle where we show off our diamonds and cars and trophy spouses. It's all a massive competition, hosted every year by none other than the infamous Mr. and Mrs. Byron Mercer.

Christmas is a black tie event at the Mercer home, but like always I look for ways to defy the socialite norms and opted out of wearing a gown. I chose instead a black backless, long sleeve shift dress with a dangerously low dip in the back. Only held up my a button between my shoulder blades, the otherwise plain dress gave me just the right balance of sexuality and simplicity.

Eyeing the time on the clock beside me, I quickly fastened the straps of my black stockings to the matching black lace garner. Dante was due to pick me up any second for his date, and since he so generously paid 1.1 million dollars for my company I think it's best to be punctual. After slipping into black suede studded heels and checking my faux bob hairdo, I grabbed my clutch and coat on my way out of my bedroom.

The penthouse was quiet, seeing as Max hasn't been home all day. After I'd left the gala with Dante to go to his hotel room, where we had a completely platonic sleepover, he drove me back to an empty penthouse. The tension in my jaw told me I was foolishly bothered by the prospect of Max spending the night with Simone, but the exponential pain I've harbored for weeks here told me that it hurt more that he shared his heart, not just his body with her.

Suddenly the walls felt as if they were closing in on me and I quickly retreated into the elevator to wait for Dante in the lobby. Shortly after exchanging pleasantries with Benjamin, my date arrived--looking as dashing as ever--and took my hand to lead me out to his car.

The drive to my childhood home was relatively painless, for Dante kept me entertained with funny memories of his life as a kid in Italy. But in a blink of the eye we were passing the gates of Hades and around the cobblestone driveway towards the massive French chateau. Elbows interlocked, Dante and I entered past the doors and in an instant I was transported into my past. 

The alluring melody of a string quartet ricocheted off the high walls and enveloped us in its bittersweet trance. Waiters with trays full of delicate crystal flutes flitted by, causing the bubbly liquid contained within its glass border to sway--but never spill--from the thin rim. The chandelier above our heads shone with pride, and scattered beams of sparkling brilliance around us. Guests mingled, laughed, gossiped, plastic smiles glued to their even more perfect faces. All of it, it was like a dream I couldn't wake from. Like wax figures they appeared, or puppets perhaps, forced to repeat the same talk and attend the same parties with the same people. 

"Everything alright?" Dante murmured beside me. My head snapped up at the clarity of his voice, my eyes coming into focus as they centered on his bemused smile. 

"No," I said as I turned away and eyed the hallway that lead to my father's study. "But after tonight, everything will be."

"How can you be so sure you'll find something?" he said pointing his chin in the study's direction. 

"Incriminating documents are just an extra touch; a full confession from us should be more than enough to tip off the Feds. Either way, this will all be over in a weeks time."

Dante frowned and raised an eyebrow, "Kind of convenient, wouldn't you say?"

"Speak clearly, Dante," I said with a pointed look in his direction.

"In a week's time, eh? Now would that be before or after the big 'I do'?" A grimace etched itself on my lips, but just as I were about to defend myself we were interrupted.