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He vowed to take me away, everyone else be damned, and I can’t allow it.
Not when everyone’s freedom is on the line. I love them all too much for this. I still can’t believe Arson couldn’t find anything to use against him.
The last thing I expected was for a Price man to be a freaking saint!
So I force a smile, although it probably does little to fool my dad.
Still, as he promised me, he doesn’t interfere in my decisions and hasn’t said anything about my private life all these past months. He even controlled Santiago, who practically cornered me every day, trying to make me spill the beans and confess what Maxwell holds above my head. He finally backed away when I screamed that I never questioned his marriage and choices, so he should respect mine.
“Gracias, Pápá.” I kiss him on the cheek. “I want to do this. Let’s go.” I squeeze the rose bouquet in my hands so hard, the sharp thorns dig into my skin and draw blood. The red droplets fall on the floor, smearing my white satin shoes, and it would have been tragic to have such bad luck on my wedding day.
Except this wedding is already a tragedy, and I welcome all the bad luck. Maybe it will stop the whole farce.
Dad takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and presses it to my finger, clicking his tongue. “You should be careful, princess.” He steps toward the bride’s chambers again, trying to drag me right along with him. “Maybe we should check it first before we—”
“I’m okay.” I put the handkerchief on the nearest bench and give him my bouquet so I can adjust the veil on my hair. “We really have to go.” I catch my reflection in the window, my hollow blue eyes staring back at me while this stunning dress seems almost like a mockery for something that’s supposed to be glorious.
Thunder echoes in the sky, the lightning flashing through the window and brightening up the darkness around us. Dark clouds gather, ready to pour rain on the sidewalk and create a gloomy atmosphere designed to showcase Mother Nature’s mood that matches the one in my soul.
Because even Mother Nature doesn’t approve of my union. Should this be a sign to bolt?
You can run away from me, darling. But I’ll catch you every single time. You belong to me. Never forget it.
“Jimena?” Impatience coats Dad’s tone, and I focus back on him, wishing for the seductive and tempting voice to disappear because it shakes my resolve. All this time, he’s been acting as if this engagement doesn’t exist, but I wonder…maybe deep down, he's hurt. I can’t imagine watching him being engaged to someone else. Just the idea fills me with rage. “If you change your mind at any moment from now on, I’ll support you and be on your side.”
He desperately wishes for me to stall and think clearly. However, his every action pushes me further toward this marriage because he’ll never accept what’s in my heart.
So what choice do I truly have, especially when my brother is in danger?
I shake my head again, refusing to think about the hideous and horrible images playing in my mind, akin to the horror movie that has no end, just endless terror, and there is no reprieve from them.
Sans the marriage to a Price man.
Because that’s what I’m about to do, right?
Marry a Price man.
Except…
I’m marrying the wrong Price.
Dad extends his arm to me, and I hook mine through it while taking the bouquet back in my hands. “Okay.” We start moving toward our destination, my heels clicking on the marble as my eyes drink in the beauty around me. As a little girl, it made me gape in awe at how hauntingly gorgeous it is.
The church has expensive stained glass in the dings, and the ceiling is curved in an oval shape, almost giving a fairytale-like experience, creating a magical atmosphere where everything is possible.
Even atoning for most mortal sins.
If you pretend hard enough, you can almost imagine angels descending from heaven and casting a spell on you, washing away all your worries while stilling everything around you, forever trapping you in this state of mind.
Where your emotions push to the surface, yet you can never allow them to reign and ruin your family because all the choices one makes…inevitably lead to consequences.
And mine are so hideous one might wonder how I’m still surviving with the guilt eating at me.
The golden marble glistens under the candlelight, pointing at the various expensive artwork gathered all over the world by my family, who founded this church and displayed it on the walls, matching the exquisite design.
Various flowers are spread all over the perimeter, roses and orchids mingling together and forming rather weird combinations while their scent floats in the air, making my nose twitch and the bile rise in my throat.
As we stop at the entrance, the organ player blinks at us, straightens up, and starts the music from the very beginning. The people occupying the pews stand, grinning at me, although their eyes tell a different story altogether as they’re filled with resentment and concern bordering on hate.
