by A. Zavarelli
“Alright then.” Abella hiccups, discarding her champagne glass. “We better pick out your dress before Manuel has to carry you home.”
We both laugh, and Katherine discreetly removes the champagne bottle before snapping her fingers at her assistant. “We’re ready for the dresses.”
They wheel out five more racks full of wedding dresses, and I’m glad we saved this part for last. I probably would have had a panic attack if I had to choose it first, but now I’m boozy and my cheeks are warm, and my inhibitions are just low enough that I think I can try one on without hyperventilating.
Abella goes through the first rack, holding up each dress, swishing it in front of her as she models them on the hanger. We both laugh at some of the faces I make, and the elimination process goes rather quickly. We have a decent selection pile for me to try on when she holds up a simple, white silk trumpet dress with off-the-shoulder straps and an open back. I pause, staring at it with a sudden overwhelming sense of emotion.
That one, I sign. That’s the one I want to try.
Abella offers me a curious glance. Right now?
I nod. Her eyes light up, and she gestures for me to join her in the dressing room.
I don’t know how I know. It just feels like the one. I wasn’t expecting to get attached to any of these dresses, honestly. I kept telling myself it just had to fit the role as if I were an actress in a play, but as Abella helps me into it, it doesn’t feel like a role. I feel like a woman preparing to marry the man she loves. It doesn’t fully hit me until I look at my reflection in the mirror and break down in full-on sobs.
“Hey.” Abella rubs my back, trying to comfort me. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Take some deep breaths.”
I nod at her, calming my breathing and forcing myself to relax.
“We can take it off,” she says. “If you hate it.”
I don’t. I shake my head. It’s the opposite. I just wasn’t expecting to love it so much.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispers. “Because you look fucking amazing right now. I think this is the one.”
Me too.
We both glance at my reflection in the mirror, and after a long moment, she lets out a little shriek. Did we seriously just pick out your dress in one try?
My heart flutters as I smooth my fingers over the beautiful fabric. I think we did.
I could get used to this, I tell Abella.
She smiles over at me, bobbing her head in agreement. “You should. You’re about to be Mrs. Scarcello. You could come here every week if you wanted to.”
The therapist adjusts her pressure on my foot, kneading into a spot that’s still sore from our full morning of shopping. After buying what feels like entirely too many clothes, Abella brought me to a spa for an afternoon of pampering. I’ve been massaged, waxed, scrubbed, and turned over with a fresh haircut and a full face of makeup. My fingers and toes are a glossy shade of red to match my new lipstick, and I feel like an entirely new woman. It’s been an amazing experience but getting used to it seems a bit too self-indulgent.
I don’t know that I’ll be spending much time at the spa, I sign. I want to do something productive with my time when Nino’s at school. Maybe I could get a part-time job. I have an education. I’d like to put it to use.
Abella studies me, and I catch a glimpse of sadness in her features for the first time since I’ve met her.
“I get it,” she says. “You can do something else. The sky’s the limit, right? And when you’re not working, I will keep you busy. We can do lunch dates, afternoon movies, you name it. I’m there.”
I’d like that.
There is work you can do for The Society as well. She signs back. Just about every industry you could probably imagine. You’d have your choice being the wife of a Sovereign Son.
What does that even mean?
Just think of this as a kingdom. She laughs. In this kingdom, Sovereign Sons are nobility, and everyone else is just noise. Your husband will always be your king, and you are his queen. If you’re one of the lucky few, you may even learn to love each other.
I glance at the engagement ring on her finger. I’ve wanted to ask about it all day, but it never seemed like the right time until now.
Are you one of the lucky ones?
She follows my gaze, and her eyes shine with emotion. I thought I was, but we have to make the most of the cards we’re dealt, right?
I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.
No. It’s okay. She forces a smile. It’s life, right? Nothing ever works out the way we plan.
Are you okay? I ask. You’re not being forced into anything, are you?
I’m okay, she answers, sitting up straighter. My situation is complicated. A conversation better saved for another time.
I nod, not wanting to press her.
“I suppose I should let you get home.” She glances down at the therapists. “Thank you so much for your assistance today.”
“It was our pleasure.” They rise from their stools and leave us.
I follow Abella to the changing rooms, and I can’t help feeling guilty for upsetting her. The mood is noticeably different as we dress and prepare to say our goodbyes. She seems lost in her thoughts, and I hope it won’t prevent us from meeting again.
I finger comb my hair back while she reapplies her lipstick. The silence is unsettling, but Abella bounces back a moment later as if nothing ever happened.
“Before you go, I have one more thing for you.” She retrieves a box from one of the shopping bags she brought in with her.
You’ve already done so much. I glance at the box reluctantly. I feel like I owe you.
“You do.” She teases. “And you can repay me by keeping me busy with frequent get-togethers. Promise me you will.”
Of course, I sign. You’re the only friend I have here.
“You’ll have plenty more soon,” she informs me. “But be warned that many of them will just be curious about Alessio. So many have tried and failed to snatch him up for themselves. You’ve caused quite the stir by doing what they couldn’t.”
An uncomfortable heat crawls over my skin. Really?
“Don’t sweat it,” she says. “He chose you. Nobody else matters now.”
I can’t bring myself to tell her that he only chose me so I could live, not because he wants to marry me. It casts a shadow over the entire day, and now I can’t help feeling ridiculous for picking out a wedding dress as if it means something. This is all an act, and at the end of the day, Alessio made it clear it’s not going to be a traditional marriage. We won’t sleep in the same bed. We won’t have conversations as we lie together, naked and satisfied. There’s a very strong possibility that if he’s not doing those things with me, he will find someone else to provide it. Someone from the large pool of opportunities he apparently has.
My heart hurts as Abella gestures to my scarf, distracting me. “May I?”
I release a shaky breath, my eyes drifting to the box in her hands. I don’t know what’s in it, but I know I trust her. She hasn’t stared at my scars. In fact, she hasn’t shown any discomfort around them at all, and she’s already seen me at my most vulnerable today. I reach up and untie the neck scarf for her, unwrapping it with care.
She watches curiously, and her only reaction is to swallow when she sees the disfigurement left on my neck.
“Whoever he is.” She opens the box and pulls out a beautiful black lace choker. “I hope he’s rotting in hell.”
She helps me secure the choker, and I turn to look at myself in the mirror, my fingers moving over the lace in appreciation. It’s strange and surreal how much a simple piece can change the way I look and make me more comfortable in my skin.
Thank you. I glance at her in the reflection. I hope he is too.
26
Alessio
“Anything?” I ask Angelo.
He glances up from the computer screen with bleary eyes. We’ve been taking shifts going through the hard drive
s from Gwen’s house, working long hours as I try to build my case against Enzo for the Tribunal. I have a pre-arranged court date set in one month. I’m not married to the idea of letting things sit that long, but I’m also not ready to go in unprepared.
Regardless of their approval, I am determined to end Enzo’s life. There is no future where he’ll get to live, as far as I’m concerned, but it would be wiser to go through the proper channels first rather than risking the Tribunal’s wrath.
“Nothing much on these folders,” Angelo says. “Just a lot of shit if you ask me.”
I scrub my hand over my face and sigh. It’s been the same for me. I have no earthly idea why Gwen kept so much useless information stored on these hard drives. I’m beginning to think it might be a lost cause, but the fact that she did keep everything also tells me there might be something of note in the void.
“Did you know Enzo dated Ricardo’s wife in high school?” he asks.
“What?” I stretch the muscles in my neck, trying to recall that time in our lives.
“Right here.” Angelo turns the screen and shows me a photo of the two of them, and it jogs my memory.
“That was the annual Society gala,” I say. “I wouldn’t call it dating. Ricardo and Enzo had an intense rivalry. They were always trying to outdo each other, making outlandish bets. That year Enzo had challenged Ricardo to give up his girlfriend for a night at the gala if Enzo got better marks at school. Ricardo thought he could never do it, and he was stupid enough to agree to the bet. Of course, Enzo cheated, but it didn’t come out until after the fact. He took Nicolette to the gala, and it burned Ricardo up. I had forgotten all about that.”
Angelo seems to sense what I’m thinking as I explain the story to him. At the time, I never thought of it as anything more than harmless fun. Looking back now, it’s obvious that Enzo always had a thing for Nicolette. Her rejection irked him, and he could never understand why she thought Ricardo was a better match. As we grew older and Enzo dated his way through half the eligible Society daughters, I assumed he had forgotten all about it. When he told the Tribunal it was Nicolette who had come onto him that fateful night of the murders, I had attributed it to a marriage gone sour between her and Ricardo. She and Enzo had known each other for so long, it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think she would seek comfort from him. At the time, I believed his version of events. Now looking at it through a new lens, with all the information, the truth is obvious. She had rejected Enzo for years, and he felt entitled to her. Just as he felt entitled to brutalize Natalia on a whim and dispose of her like she was nothing.
“He never showed any signs.” I shake my head in disbelief. “It’s strange to think you know someone, and then you’re completely blindsided like this.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Angelo says. “I never saw it either. Not with him, and not with my own flesh and blood.”
A dark look comes over his face, and I know he’s thinking about his revenge. He’ll have it soon now, but probably not soon enough to satisfy him.
“You should get some sleep,” I suggest. “No need to keep at this all night. We can resume when I return from New York.”
“With your bride in tow.” His lip twitches as if the thought amuses him. “Never thought I’d utter those words.”
“Yes, well, I should probably go make sure she’s ready. She had a busy day with Abella Moretti.”
His nostrils flare at the mention of her name, as I knew they would. We can’t help goading each other. I have a feeling he’s dying to ask more about it, but his pride won’t let him.
“You should tell her to watch the company she keeps,” he grunts. “Wouldn’t want her falling in with a bad crowd.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I agree. “Which is exactly why I chose Abella to help her, but I suppose you wouldn’t know her character, given that it’s been years since you’ve spoken to her.”
“I know everything I need to.” He closes the computer and reaches for his jacket. “I won’t keep you, Alessio. Please give your bride my regards. Enjoy the festivities in New York. I will see you when you return.”
“Likewise.” I walk him out into the hall. “Thanks for your help.”
He nods and takes his leave, and I trudge up to the second floor, heading for Natalia’s door. I haven’t had a chance to speak with her since Manuel returned her home this evening. After I picked up Nino from school, I was busy taking him to his regular activities, and then I handed him over to Manuel so I could do some work. I’ll need to hire another guard for Natalia, but it will take time and caution to vet them. For now, we will have to juggle Nino’s care and Manuel’s time between the two of them.
I hesitate outside her door, trying to determine the standard I want to set from here on out. I’ve been maintaining my distance, though she never leaves my mind. If we are to survive this life together, I need to set aside any conflicting feelings.
My hand settles on the knob, and then I take it back, opting to knock instead. There’s a long moment of nothingness before Natalia opens the door, and I’m shocked into silence.
Her skirt suit is gone, and in its place is a simple black dress that displays the soft swells of her breasts and the curve of her hips much more than I’d care for. There’s nothing particularly wrong with it, but the discomfort in my cock is growing by the second, and I’m having difficulty looking away. The situation doesn’t improve as my eyes roam over her face. She’s wearing some sort of makeup that seems to intensify the color of her eyes and red lipstick that draws me in like a goddamned magnet.
I don’t even realize I’m taking a step closer until my chest brushes against hers. She has to strain her neck to look up at me, and when she does, I notice the simple lace choker around her neck.
“I like this,” I murmur, my fingers moving to touch it against my will.
She offers me a nervous smile and then gestures into her room, silently asking me if I want to come in.
“I can’t,” I reply gruffly. I don’t tell her it’s because I know if I step inside, I won’t have the self-control I need to resist touching her. “I just came to see if you were ready for tomorrow morning.”
She nods, giving me her assurances. Then it gets awkward again, because I’m standing so close to her, and now I’ve stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep control of them.
“We’ll leave at ten.”
She doesn’t say anything because she can’t without her phone or a great deal of pain from using her own voice. For a moment, I consider how ridiculous it is that I haven’t even attempted to learn the basics of how to communicate with her in the language she can use.
I linger for far too long trying to think of something else to say, but I have nothing really. I just don’t want to leave. Instead, I pull my hand from my pocket and do the one fucking thing I shouldn’t.
“It’s going to be okay.” I reach out and allow my fingers to stroke her cheek.
She shivers beneath my touch, and I’m not sure who moves first, but inevitably the gap narrows until our lips are a breath away. This time it’s undeniable that I’m the instigator as my lips brush against hers. I lose all my senses, grabbing her by the waist and pinning her against the door frame as I smear her lipstick with the intensity of my kiss. She melts against me, body soft and pliable against mine. I inhale her, I grope her, and I’m not proud of the fact that I’m practically dry fucking her in the hall. This is what she does to me, and I can’t stand it.
I yank away from her, breathless. She’s gone from elegant and beautiful to looking thoroughly fucked in a matter of seconds, and I didn’t even manage to get my dick inside of her. I want to. I really fucking want to, but I can’t. I keep telling myself I can’t, because it’s a recipe for disaster.
“Alright.” I drag my fingers through my hair, returning some of the strands that fell loose. “Well, goodnight then.”
I leave her standing there, wide-eyed and confused as I stalk down the hall and up the stairs. It looks
like I’ll be spending my night in the shower with my worthless fucking palm.
I throw open the door to my bedroom, already unbuttoning my shirt with a determination to get to the bathroom as quickly as I can, but as soon as I lift my gaze, I freeze at the sight of Angelina.
“What are you doing?”
She’s sitting in the chair next to my bed, obviously waiting for me. Immediately, her eyes drift to my tented trousers, where my goddamned erection is throbbing so painfully, I couldn’t hide it if I wanted to. Fucking Christ.
“Mr. Scarcello.” She rises slowly, offering me a coy smile. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion. I was waiting to speak with you, but you look distressed. Is there anything I can help you with?”
I don’t have to ask what she means. Her attention on my groin makes it quite obvious. Angelina has always dropped subtle hints about her interest, but I suspect this is her last-ditch effort now that she knows I’m eloping with Natalia tomorrow.
“Did you need something?” I grit out, walking to the dresser where my decanter rests, using the distraction to calm myself.
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I’m not sure what she’s going to say or do next. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can assist you with, Mr. Scarcello?”
“You can assist me by telling me what you’re doing here.” I pour myself a drink. “I’ve had a long day and an even longer one planned for tomorrow, as you’re aware.”
She straightens her spine in the face of my rejection, her lips pursing. “You’re really going to marry her?”
