The Mafia Kings Sweetheart by Kem Bee

L A N A

I always thought my engagement party would be the best night of my life. Maybe not the full glass-slipper thing, but at least something that feels special. Magical. You know? One of those nights where everything clicks. Champagne, laughter, a white dress that's just dramatic enough...

Instead, I get Diane.

"Darling, did no one tell you roses are overdone?" Her voice is soft, but every word sticks with me. She stands near the fireplace, swirling her wine like she's judging it. "They scream desperation. I would've gone with lilies. But..." she shrugs, "maybe that's just me."

I smile like a well-trained pageant queen and say, "I like roses."

That shuts her up for a second as she takes another sip, then scans the room like she owns it. Diane is my stepmother. She's been in my life since I was eight, and after my dad died. She stuck around mostly to make sure I didn't ruin the family name, or maybe just to control the parts of me she couldn't mould. She has always loved Tyler, my fiancé, maybe even more than me. Or perhaps she's just excited about me marrying someone with power and influence. Tyler has money; he works in finance, makes six figures, wears designer suits without trying too hard. So, of course, he was someone Diane would approve of. She stands across from me, glass in hand, perfectly dressed in a navy silk gown that probably costs more than the venue rental, playing supportive... playing mother. I tune her out and glance around the room.

The party is in full swing, soft lights glow from chandeliers, jazz floats through the speakers, and people are mingling like a scene from a wedding magazine. I hear someone laugh too loudly, someone else clink a glass. It's lovely, and it's everything I ever wanted.

I'm dressed in a soft cream dress, one that accentuates each and every curve on my body. I'd consider myself fit, but also on the more curvaceous side, having taken my workout and kickboxing classes a lot more seriously this year. My hair is dark, almost pitch black and falls just under my jaw in bouncy waves and my skin is slightly tanned.

"Lana!"

Elizabeth appears out of nowhere, arms wide, red dress hugging her body like it was sewn on. Her light blonde hair's done in loose waves, her lipstick a perfect red. She always knows how to make an entrance.

"There you are," I say, hugging her as soon as she reaches me. "You look incredible."

"Please," she grins. "You look like a bridal goddess. I'm just here to orbit your glow."

She grabs a glass of champagne off a tray and downs half of it in one gulp, making me raise a brow.

"Nerves?" I ask.

"Pfft. What do I have to be nervous about? This is your show babe." She smiles, but there's something tight behind it. Something is… off.

I brush it aside. She's probably just overwhelmed. Everyone is.

Elizabeth has been my ride-or-die since freshman year. We've done everything together: bad breakups, worse hangovers, nights crying over textbooks and nights getting blackout drunk to celebrate literally nothing. She's the one who told me to give Tyler a chance. Said a guy like that doesn't come around twice. She's even the one who helped me pick out this dress, said Tyler wouldn't even be able to keep his hands off me.

And yet, tonight, her energy is weird. She keeps looking over her shoulder, checking her phone, tapping her fingers against the stem of her glass... And I can't figure out why.

"You sure you're okay?" I ask.

"Totally, just a little buzzed. This whole night feels kind of surreal, right?" She chuckles lightly, but I know Elizabeth. She doesn't get nervous easily, but tonight she is.

"Yeah," I say. "Surreal's a good word for it."

She leans in. "You should go find Tyler. Isn't the groom-to-be supposed to be glued to your side?" She laughs again.

"He was just here. I think he stepped out to talk to someone."

Elizabeth squeezes my hand, but her eyes glance over my shoulder, past me, and I know why even before I turn around.