by Marina Myles
“Then I’ll wear it until you tell me to take it off,” she said tenderly.
Drago leaned in for a kiss. Rose greeted it with her entire body.
When he gathered her to him, he said, “I love you more every day.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and tightened their embrace. It was true that she’d given up everything for Drago—her, family, job, and friends. That’s why, at this point, she could only hope that fate had designed her to be with him and no one else.
“We need to buy you a wedding dress,” Drago murmured into the waves of her hair.
“Can’t you just conjure up something for me to wear?” she teased.
He chuckled. “That wouldn’t be any fun for you. I want you to pick out something special.”
“Where on earth will we find a wedding gown?”
“Maybe in the village.”
An hour later they found themselves on the charming streets of East Hampton. Clapboard houses rose beyond the brightly painted shops that lined the town’s main avenue. And the entire town seemed immersed in an idyllic sort of trance.
Rose ate a late lunch at a picturesque café. Claiming he wasn’t hungry, Drago watched her pick at a sandwich and a bowl of soup. After the hearty meal, she pulled him along the row of stores. Then she got excited when she spotted a dress shop at the end of the street.
Arriving at it, she pointed to a gown in the window. “That’s the one.”
“It’s beautiful.” Drago said. “But is it meant for a bride?”
“It may be a tea dress, but I love it. Besides, it’s my best option in this tiny village.”
He smiled. “Then I love it, too.” After he kissed her on the cheek and handed her a wad of money, he urged her to go inside and try it on.
The shopkeeper helped Rose change into the white garment. With its fashionable empire waist and taffeta skirt, the dress boasted elbow length sleeves, a cross-draped bodice and a flowing lace overskirt.
Once the kindly woman caught Rose’s hair up in a wide, white ribbon, she stepped back to admire the final look. “Perfect,” the woman said.
Rose beamed at her reflection in the mirror. “I’ll take it.”
The store owner clapped her hands in delight. “You look beautiful, Miss, but we can’t let your groom see you in it. I’ll wrap the dress up promptly.”
“That won’t be necessary. We’re getting married right now.”
“How romantic!” the woman cried.
Rose emerged from the dress shop as if on the lightest cloud. Drago was waiting for her on the walkway. He gazed at the sight of her in her bridal dress with all the things she’d hoped to see in his eyes: admiration, affection, approval, and pure love.
Offering her his arm, he led her toward the chapel situated on the edge of East Hampton. Halfway there, Rose stopped abruptly in her tracks. “Rings! We don’t have wedding rings!”
Drago patted his breast pocket. “Not to worry. I bought them while you were trying your dress on.”
“You think of everything.”
When she stole a look at Drago, she noticed he was perspiring profusely. “Are you nervous?”
“I suppose I am.”
His energy seemed to deplete substantially as they neared the chapel. And his hands began to shake. “I don’t know if I can go inside.”
“You’re having second thoughts?” Panic seized her.
“Not at all.”
“What’s wrong, then?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been inside a church.”
She laughed. “I’m sure lightning won’t strike.”
“You don’t understand,” Drago said, becoming unhinged.
“Are you really too nervous to go inside?”
“Yes.” His limbs joined his hands in an uncontrolled tremor.
“I’ve always dreamed of having a church wedding,” she said, “but I can compromise for you.”
“You’re willing to do that?”
She nodded. “It looks like there’s a courtyard next to the chapel. Maybe the pastor will marry us outside.”
He gripped her hand. “Would you mind asking him?”
“Of course.”
Thankfully, the pastor agreed—and even brought out his wife as a witness. The warm hues of sunset showered the brief ceremony, while a crisp breeze fluttered the modest bouquet of flowers Rose held in her hands.
After they exchanged wedding vows, Drago kissed her, long and soft, and she couldn’t help but think it was the happiest day she had ever spent.
Unbeknownst to her, their union marked the start of an eerie, downhill spiral.
Drago’s new show was set to open in three weeks. After Rose sent a telegram to the Marconis telling them she’d married Drago, the starry-eyed newlyweds spent a relaxing week in East Hampton. Then, it was time to rush back to the city to prepare for opening night.
As Rose settled into their rehearsal schedule and Drago’s apartment near the theater, her guilt started to weigh her down. She’d had no contact with Olivia, Elena, Lorenzo, or Anthony, which increased her shame and sense of disconnection.
In those weeks, she was left to wonder if Richard had made good on Drago’s demand that he recommend her to the editor of The Daily Gazette. More importantly, had Richard destroyed the photo of Drago on the laundry line?
Rose was dying to know, but she didn’t see how she could find out. Rather, she concentrated on performing. The Herndon Hippodrome was undoubtedly the most intimidating theater along Broadway. Large and stately, the theater emanated an aura of authority. In fact, it towered over the other auditoriums with a presence that said, “Anyone who performs here has hit the big time.”
Unfortunately, Rose didn’t consider herself one of those worthy people. At best, she was an amateur. Compared to Drago’s polished showmanship, she was even pathetic. She’d lost count of how many props she dropped during their rehearsals—yet Drago remained patient and loving.
“Do it again, Rose,” he would encourage with a hand pressed to the small of her back. Fortunately, Drago’s authentic abilities left little for Rose to actually master. An experienced professional, he could astound spectators without revealing the fact that he was a real-life sorcerer.
A half hour before the show started on opening night, Rose pulled her costume out of the wardrobe and eyed it with distaste. Comprised of fishnet stockings, black elbow-length gloves, and a tiny leotard covered in sequins, the costume was daring to say the least.
She sought Drago out to complain. “Don’t you think I ought to wear a skirt of some sort—to cover my legs?” she asked.
He drew her to him. “Showing your magnificent legs is the idea. Remember, distraction is the key.”
Rose took a glance around to make sure they were alone in the dressing room. “But you don’t need an attractive assistant to distract the audience. Your magic is real.”
“You’re right. I could do the show with my eyes closed,” he joked, “But then I couldn’t see your fabulous legs.”
She laughed—and it felt good because she’d been close to tears all day.
“Now hurry and dress darling. We open in twenty minutes.”
Rose’s gut clenched. Can I really do this . . . perform in front of hundreds of people? She couldn’t erase her self-doubt. As a result, her nerves soared to a faulty high. Drago seemed to sense her apprehension because he gave her an enormous hug.
Archibald McMillan entered the dressing room and grinned. “Break it up, you two lovebirds.” He extended his hand to Drago. “You’re about to make us some serious money. Are you ready, Starkov?”
While Drago shook McMillan’s hand, Rose studied the thin manager. Pencil-necked and clean-shaven, he stood even taller than his client. McMillan reminded her of a giraffe. And while he wasn’t the warmest character in the world, he was savvy to the ins-and-outs of show business.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Drago replied.
“Right then. I suggest you s
lip into that slinky costume, Rose. Meanwhile, I’ll tell the house to open the doors.” McMillan strode to the door then stopped and looked back. “It’s show time, folks!”
Nausea stuttered up her throat. She must have gone pale since Drago squeezed her hand. “What have I been saying all along? You can do this, darling.”
She managed a smile. “If you say so . . .”
“I’ll meet you in the wings in five minutes. We need to get into position.”
She nodded before Drago left the dressing room in his formal finery. Trying to convince herself that they were simply holding another rehearsal without an audience, she changed into the minuscule costume and headed out the door, too.
A swelling overture swept through the theater. From the wings, Rose stole a look at the auditorium. It was filled to the brim. Judging by the expressions on the patrons’ faces, some were wholly skeptical while others were wholly fanatical. The varied looks told Rose that the stakes had risen since Drago’s time at the Sunshine Theater.
Pulse thrumming, she stepped onstage behind Drago. Thunderous applause greeted them and when Drago introduced her as his wife, the applause increased.
With trembling feet, Rose took a step forward. That’s when she spotted Patrick and Anthony in the second row.
CHAPTER 20
The theater fell into a surreal silence around Rose. In the back of her mind, she knew people were actually talking but as she watched Drago’s mouth move, she couldn’t make out the words. Anxiousness crawled up her spine. Her stare flitted back to Patrick who gave her an emphatic scowl. Meanwhile, Anthony flung her one of his sour expressions.
Rose turned to Drago. He’d locked eyes with Patrick and Anthony, too. But in keeping with his professional persona, he smiled their way and went on with the show. His composure helped Rose snap out of her nervous fog. She and Drago went on to perform the “Sawing a Woman in Half” trick and the “Boxed Person with Missing Abdomen” illusion. Then Drago temporarily hypnotized a half dozen people with highly entertaining results.
The spectacular show, with its fanfare of exotic sets, birds, and dancers, couldn’t have gone better.
Perspiring, Drago escaped into the wings afterward and growled instructions to Archibald. “Now that the show’s over, don’t let anyone backstage! Do you understand?”
“Got it,” McMillan replied.
“I mean anyone.” Drago said. “And you held the reporters outside, right?”
“Yup.” McMillan pushed his hat back on his head. “You seem especially testy tonight, Starkov. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine. Just do as I say.”
McMillan shot him a contemptuous look but left it at that.
Rose found Drago backstage and rushed into his arms. “You saw them, too? Patrick and Anthony, I mean.”
“I saw them all right. Why the hell can’t they leave us alone?”
“How did you remain so calm during the show?”
“Why give them the power?” He paused. “At least during the performance.”
She drew back. “During the performance?”
“Now I’m going to teach O’Leary a lesson once and for all.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Rose cried.
His eyes turned dark. “Why? Do you still have feelings for him?”
“He was never anything more than a friend. But I broke his heart.”
“He’s a big boy, Rose.”
“Let it go,” she pleaded. “We’re married now.”
That seemed to settle Drago down. “Maybe you’re right.” The redness drained from his face. “I have what he wants, and nothing will change that.” Struggling to compose himself, he left her in order to change.
“Rose?” Patrick’s voice stopped her cold. She wheeled around and saw him coming up the side steps of the stage. A security guard barred his way. Emotions tore at Rose. Should she talk to him or send him away?
Finally, she gave the guard permission to let Patrick continue up the stairs.
“How were you allowed to stay inside the theater?” she asked.
“My cousin moonlights here as an usher.” Fidgeting with his hat, he gave her a smile. Half of his face was slightly misaligned and she realized that his jaw must not have healed properly after Drago pounded his face. “Anthony is here, too. He’s waiting for me in the lobby.”
“I know. I saw both of you in the audience.”
“You look well, Rose.”
“You should go, Patrick. If my husband sees you—”
“That’s right.” He cut her short. “You’re married to that monster now.”
“Monster? How dare you!”
He stepped closer. “The police have discovered scandalous things about your husband. Furthermore, Richard Bellum is working with us to expose Dragomir Starkov as a fake.”
Alarm pulsed through her. Richard hasn’t stopped his antics . . .
“You’re in a dangerous situation. I’m urging you to leave Drago,” Patrick said softly.
“I won’t leave him. In fact, I’ll be relaying this information to him.” She lifted her chin.
“I’m sure you will, but it won’t matter. When Bellum gets done with Starkov, he’ll be the laughingstock of the nation—and you’ll sink into humiliation alongside him.”
She swayed on her feet. “What do you mean?”
“This is your chance to get out, Rose.”
“I’m perfectly fine where I am.”
“Look at yourself.” Patrick’s eyes roved over her scanty costume. “Look what you’ve lowered yourself to.”
“Thank you for the warning, Patrick, but I have no intention of abandoning my husband,” she repeated. “Now leave before I fetch him myself.”
With pain in his eyes, Patrick nodded. He treaded down the stairs and disappeared into the lobby. Meanwhile, Rose turned to find Drago. To her surprise, he was hidden in the shadows, fists clenched.
“I heard your conversation,” he growled. “It took everything I had to stop myself from pummeling that bastard all over again.”
She sucked in a breath. “I had it in hand.”
“I’m proud of you,” Drago ground out.
“What do you think the police have discovered about you?”
“I can only imagine.”
She went to him and touched his jacket lapel. “And what are we going to do about Bellum?”
“He’s a jackass who doesn’t deserve to live.”
“You can’t kill him!” Repulsion tinged her words.
“I’m not going to kill him,” Drago said. “But I am going to scare him into keeping his mouth shut.”
Later that night, Drago stormed off to tinker in his workshop. Alone in their apartment, Rose lay in bed, listening to the sounds outside the window. Motorcars beeped loudly, streetcars hummed along their tracks, and pedestrians scurried to late night activities.
The noises made it impossible for her to sleep so she got out of bed and threw open the window. Shades of autumn had settled over New York, bringing with them a biting wind. As Rose breathed in the crisp air, a soft knock at the door made her spin around.
“Who is it?” she called out as she shut the window.
“It’s Olivia.”
She hastened to the door, thrust it open, and pulled Olivia into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”
“Oh, Rose. We’ve been so worried about you!”
Rose could feel Olivia’s heart beat wildly. Her adoptive sister stepped inside the warm apartment and removed her coat.
“How did you find me?”
“Drago’s manager gave me your address,” Olivia replied.
“He did?”
“I told him who I was. After that didn’t work, I flirted with him a little.”
Rose smiled and invited her to sit on the sofa.
“I came because Anthony saw the magic show tonight,” Olivia admitted.
“I know. He was there with Patrick.”
Surprise lit Olivia’s eyes. “Did you speak
to them?”
“I spoke to Patrick.” She paused. “Unfortunately, he didn’t have very nice things to say to me.”
“We’ve been so concerned about you. Mama and Papa are beside themselves.”
“It all happened so fast,” Rose explained as she joined Olivia on the sofa.
“What happened so fast? Drago sweeping you off your feet?”
“Yes.”
Olivia took in a breath. “It hurts that you haven’t contacted me.”
“I sent a telegram telling you and your family that I got married.”
Olivia shot her a forlorn look. “I was talking about after you came back to New York.” She paused. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Rose?”
“I’ve never been happier.” She sighed. “Now I have someone to belong to.”
Puzzlement washed over Olivia’s face. “You’ve always belonged to our family.”
“Not really,” Rose murmured. “You have no idea what it’s like to be adopted.”
Olivia squared her shoulders. “Drago isn’t the answer to all your problems. Don’t you wonder about what the police and the press have uncovered about him?”
“I think Patrick just said that to scare me.”
“No, it’s true. Anthony claims that everyone is banding together to discredit Drago.”
Rose wrung her hands. “Then I wish I knew what Richard and Patrick know. I’d be able to if I could polish my parents’ gift of clairvoyance.”
“You wish you could see the future at will?”
“Yes. I only see snatches—and there are long intervals between visions.”
Olivia shook her head. “No, thank you. Knowing what’s going to happen would be a terrible gift.”
“I think it would solve a lot of things.”
The dark-haired girl crossed her arms in protest as Rose went on. “Although I can’t tell what will happen, I know someone who can.”
Olivia clutched her handbag tightly. “Who?”
“My mother.”
“No. Mama said your parents want no contact with you until after your twenty-first birthday. Until they know it’s safe for you to seek them out.”
“You don’t understand! Drago has telepathic abilities and he senses that Morvina is close to me now.”
