By Virtue I Fall (Sins of the Fathers #3)(31)

His vigilant mask didn’t crack in the slightest when Mrs. Clark entered the room at her husband’s side. Heat traveled up my throat. I wasn’t sure if she knew that I’d caught her with Santino. I was pretty sure Clifford was unaware of his mother’s extramarital activities and I had no intention to tell him. It would only cast a bad light on the Outfit. My loyalties didn’t lie with Clifford but with my family, and I doubted that would ever change. He was a means to an end, and so was I for him.

My family greeted the Clarks under the watchful eyes of our guests. We had invited people from the political elite as well as important families from the Outfit. Of course, the press was invited as well. Clark Senior had insisted on it. His entire life played out before cameras.

Clifford gave me a tense smile. In his form-fitting suit, he looked really dapper. He’d even cut his sonny boy hair short.

“You cut your hair,” I murmured.

“My father thought it would look better on camera.”

I nodded, though I didn’t agree. Then my gaze dragged over to Mrs. Clark who kept looking at Santino. If she kept it up, someone would eventually realize something was going on between them. I really hoped Santino would have the decency to keep his hands to himself today. If he dared banging her at my engagement party, I wouldn’t have to tell Dad about Santino’s sexual activities, I’d kill him myself.

Fury sizzled in my belly.

I’d thought I was over my anger, but seeing Mrs. Clark now, I realized my jealousy still burned brightly. It was a very sobering realization.

I tore my gaze away and motioned Clifford to follow me to the fireplace. Dad and Mr. Clark stepped in front of our guests and shook hands, then Dad addressed the crowd, officially announcing my engagement to Clifford.

Sofia caught my eyes across the room. She stood beside her husband Danilo. They seemed to have overcome some of their difficulties from the beginning of their bond. Before my birthday party, I hadn’t seen her in almost two months. I could tell that she was eager for a conversation. Talking over the phone was always risky so I hadn’t been able to share details of my recent interactions with Santino with her yet.

After a few photos of our families, and Clifford and I holding hands and smiling at each other, the guests began to swarm around us to congratulate us. There was curiosity in the eyes of many, especially the political guests, while wariness lingered on the faces of many Made Men and their families. I knew my marriage to Clifford was a very controversial topic in the Outfit, but I trusted in Mom’s and Dad’s judgment regarding the bond.

Eventually the constant hand-shaking and small talk got overwhelming, even for someone as accustomed to it as me.

Clifford gave me a look that suggested he felt the same way. “The photographers must have taken a billion photos of us by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll pick the least favorable. They always make the best stories,” I muttered under my breath. I had a love-hate relationship with the press, especially after they ridiculed one of the outfits that I’d put together a few months ago and worn to a charity event: a flowy oversized blazer almost reaching my knees that was held together by a wide belt and micro-shorts plus a lace bralette beneath it. What had really set them off had been the checkered knee-socks matching the blazer that I’d combined with ridiculously high heels.

I’d felt a great amount of satisfaction when not long after the derogatory article, girls not only from our circle but socialites from Chicago as well had started wearing similar outfits to parties and public events.

Clifford cleared his throat at my badmouthing of the press and a tense pause ensued. Too many people were watching our interaction, analyzing every facial expression, trying to read from our lips. Clifford was a politician’s son. Pissing off the press probably was very high on his list of things to avoid. “A good love story sells too.”

I shrugged. It probably did, but I wasn’t sure we’d convince them our story was one of love. Maybe it was just my overthinking mind but I doubted anyone would see sparks flying between Clifford and me.

My gaze found Santino standing off to the side watching everything with a bored expression. Anyone who thought only girls could have a resting bitch face had never seen Santino. His constant pissed-off look was legendary.

“I’m used to attention but today I feel like a zoo animal,” I whispered.

Clifford nodded and smiled as if I’d said something nice. He knew how to play the game. I smiled in turn, even if I didn’t feel like it.

“How about we go somewhere more private?”

“I’d love to,” I said immediately, needing a breather.

Clifford lightly touched my shoulder as he steered me toward the door. I could see Santino watching us from across the room where he hovered behind Mom and Dad and chatting with one of the Clark’s bodyguards that he hadn’t offended yet.

We stepped into the lobby but even here a few people mingled to chat. We gave them smiles and I nodded toward the back. Clifford and I headed toward the kitchen, which of course was also crowded with staff. But the kitchen had access to a part of the garden that usually only staff used for their breaks. Now at the busiest time of the party, none of them were out there, so Clifford and I had some privacy as the door closed behind us. We settled on the chairs.

“So now we’re engaged,” Clifford said in disbelief.

“We are.”