Like a pretty little doll plucked from a luxury boutique window, I was fully dressed and—dare I say it—stunning.
Tailored blue suit, and I totally look like a main model on a ramp show. If I didn't know better, I'd ask myself out. I turned side to side in front of the massive gilded mirror, admiring every angle.
"I look pretty... in blue," I mumbled proudly.
Alfio Russo may be doomed, but damn if he wasn't blessed in the looks department. No wonder Riccardo fell in love with him. Pity he also ended up, you know, crispy.
"Okay, no gloomy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Selfie thoughts." I spun toward the bedside table. "Phone. Where's my phone…"
Aha!
I snatched it and opened the camera with the urgency of a beauty influencer on a deadline. The screen lit up, and there I was—ethereal. Angelic. Main character who should not be suffering in a mafia plot-level pretty.
