Apparently, it was a very big deal.
But who could really knock their methods?
I couldn’t, not when I’d seen firsthand the way they looked at each other.
Estella arrived at our row next, and she hugged me and the untouchable Bianca.
I knew what that was about. Frankie had me well versed in BDSM etiquette. Estella and Bianca were both subs, which made all the difference when it came to friendly, casual touching.
Estella sat next to Frankie who sat beside James, who took up possessive residence on Bianca’s other side, his arm thrown over her shoulders. You couldn’t have slid a credit card between the two of them, he was plastered so close to her.
And then there was me, on the end of the chain, watching as Tristan got felt up at a funeral.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
James leaned forward, aiming his electric gaze in my direction. Of course, he looked good in black. James looked amazing in everything. “He holding up okay?” he asked me.
I nodded, eyes wide.
“Are you holding up okay?” he questioned, looking concerned.
I nodded. “I didn’t even know Tony.”
“That’s not what I meant. In general, are you okay?”
My mouth twisted ruefully, but I just nodded. I had to bite my tongue to keep from making any comments about what was going on in the front row.
But seriously, it was ridiculous. Mona was as plastered to Tristan as James was to Bianca. And there was so much ownership in it, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, as though she did it every day, as though he was hers.
Tristan had his arm around her, and seemed to just be taking it in stride as she nuzzled into his chest. I didn’t even think she was crying, so it looked more like canoodling than it did mourning.
I told myself I’d never lost a father, hell, never even had one to lose, so I could hardly decide what form Mona’s grief should take.
Even so, I was upset, and that upset was growing into something stronger by the second.
I must have been showing some outward sign of what I was feeling, because Bianca, who was not normally demonstrative, reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it comfortingly.
Tristan kept turning his head, trying to catch my eye, but every time he did it, I looked away, pretending to pay attention to the ongoing eulogy speech by Tony’s tearful wife.
Finally, I stopped glancing their way altogether, which is how I should have handled things from the beginning.
Finally, Tristan got up to say a few words, going largely over Tony’s mentorship and career and how it had affected his own life and work.
It was a touching speech, and I marveled at how polished he was at public speaking. When I’d first met him, he’d been a good performer, but I thought this new articulate speaker part of him must have come from performing in front of a large audience five nights a week.
All of Tony’s grown children, of which there were four, got up and spoke briefly about what they had most enjoyed doing with their father. It was all very moving.
Even Mona’s story about how she’d grown up to become a magician’s assistant because of her father’s influence was quite touching.
His children seemed to genuinely adore him, and a man couldn’t ask for a better sending off.
I stayed with Bianca and James after the ceremony was done. Tristan made it over to us eventually, still with a clinging Mona glued to his side.
Tristan opened his mouth, to say something to me, I presumed, when Mona opened hers, speaking before he could. “Tristan, will you ride with the family to the reception? My mother wanted me to ask you. It would mean a lot to us, in our time of need.”
She looked at me while she said it, and I had a hard time thinking nice thoughts about her as she stared at me and made a guilt-play for the love of my life.
Tristan sighed, expression neutral. “Do you mind riding with the family, Danika?” he asked.
Oh, Lord, I didn’t want to do that.
“She can come with us,” Bianca butted in quietly. There was something about her that made it so hard to tell her no, possibly because she never spoke up unless she meant to follow through. I’d seen her do it with James several times, and once she made up her mind about something, she was un-budgable. “We’ll see you there.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched briefly, and he stared at me for one pregnant pause before he nodded.
As I made my way slowly, arm in arm with Bianca, out of the building, I had to wonder if he’d really be riding with the ‘family’ or if Mona would use this as an excuse to get him to herself. I wouldn’t put it past her.
The intimidating Cavendish security detail ushered us from the building to the car.
Bianca patted my hand after we’d become comfortably ensconced in their limo. “Mona can only use this for one day. One day to make this play of hers. It’ll pass.”
“They work together several nights a week,” I shot back quietly, acutely aware of the fact that I did not want to be having this personal discussion in front of James. But I just couldn’t seem to keep it in. If I didn’t talk about, I felt like I’d burst.
“Whether she’s around or not, she’ll only be able to milk the guilt-trip for so long.”
“You saw that too, right? That’s totally what she’s doing.”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Want my advice?”
I nodded, fascinated. James was silent for our exchange, doing something on his phone, one proprietary arm thrown around Bianca’s shoulders.
“She wants him, you have him. Don’t give him away. Fight for him. Stake your claim.”
“You think he’d just go for her if I don’t fight? I don’t want a man that’s that easy to lose.”
“That’s not what I’m saying. In fact, I know he wouldn’t. What I mean is, you need to show him that he’s worth fighting for; that you’d never give him up. Don’t you think it’s about time for that?”
I didn’t have the answer for that, but I certainly burned some calories stressing about it.
The reception was held at the Biello mansion. The property was huge, but it was still a crush inside.
The interior decor was pretty much exactly what you would picture when thinking of an old Vegas magic act’s house in Viva Las Vegas. Lots of white and gold, and hell, even pictures of white tigers.