The Mafia's Bride
Sultry.
Matching red heels lay beside it, unmistakably designer. Judging by the craftsmanship, probably Antonio Vietri. The straps were delicate and almost dainty, yet the five-inch stilettos stood tall, sleek, pointed and stylishly sharp. They were taller and crueler than the ones she wore at the bachelor party. A statement of intent wrapped in elegance.
She was about to close the box, willing herself to breathe and not overthink, when she noticed something smaller nestled beneath the folds of tissue paper.