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“I really don’t need a fancy wedding dress for this fiasco. Just bundle me up in a burlap sack and write ‘hostage’ across it. I’m sure that’s all anyone will see when they look at me, anyway,” I muttered and took the bottle. I needed the liquid courage to face my rapidly approaching reality.
Giada laughed and slapped me hard on the thigh, making me jump. “Girl, you crack me up. I, for one, can’t wait for the fireworks show that your marriage is going to be.” She glanced toward the doorway. “Shh, here’s the designer. Better lose the attitude and be good, or I’ll tell Daddy.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Daddy?”
“Renato,” she clarified.
A hot flush worked through me. Was that jealousy?Hell no.
“You call him Daddy? What kind of relationship do you two have?”
“Sibling rivalry…He’s notmydaddy.” She grinned at me, the edge of sharp wickedness sending more heat flooding to my face. “He’s yours.”
“Yeah, right,” I muttered, standing and turning my face away so she couldn’t see my reaction. My body was a fucking traitor, and I hated it. I swigged more booze and jumped guiltily when a throat cleared behind me.
“Good afternoon. I take it you’re the bride? Please disrobe, and we’ll begin.”
The designer was a small, steel-haired man who seemed to be in his seventies. He had a strong Italian accent, and the air of someone who expected to be revered.
The people pleaser in me hurried to comply.
Ten minutes later, I stood on the dais, a half-finished gown of raw silk, chiffon, and sinfully smooth satin hanging off my body.
“Fuck! Vito, that dress is hot,” Giada proclaimed, looking away from her phone long enough to whistle loudly. “You’re channeling virgin sacrifice right now and it’s working.”
A virgin sacrifice for an angry god.
“VeryPhantom of the Operavibes. I love it. It’ll even be hot when it’s ripped off and on the floor on your wedding night.”
I stared at myself. I could hardly recognize my reflection. I’d never been so glamorous. The dress was hauntingly exquisite. Giada was right. There was a magical quality to it that enchanted me.
I wasn’t a pretty dress kind of person. I was a scrubs and Crocs person. Someone who valued clothes for their practical usefulness, not for the aesthetic.Ripped off and on the floor.Giada’s goading words were no doubt designed to scare me. She needn’t bother. I was scared enough already. It wasn’t just the thought of Renato De Sanctis claiming his conjugal rights that scared me, but what I’d become in his hands. My body wasn’t to be trusted around him.
Vito moved around me, pinning the waist and highlighting my curves. I’d never looked so beautiful. The back was completely open, as was the still-unpinned cleavage. I couldn’t wait to see what it would be like when it was done. As soon as I thought it, shame filled me.
Well done, Charlie. You’re like the lamb who can’t wait to see what the butcher’s knife feels like.This isn’t a wedding gown, it’s a pearl-and-lace jumpsuit for a lifer. It’s just white instead of orange. Get a fucking grip.
Then Giada spoke, and all fluffy, romantic thoughts vanished from my mind. “Hey, when you send an email, do you go by Charlie or Charlotte?”
“Charlotte. Why?”
Giada nodded and tapped at her laptop, and soon the sound of an email zooming off into hyperspace chimed.
“What did you just send?” I demanded and pushed Vito’s hand away, twisting to look at her.
“Your resignation from the hospital and your degree program.”
“What?” It was a sudden punch in the gut. “Why?”
Giada shrugged like it didn’t interest her in the slightest. “Boss’s orders.”
“Boss’s orders?” I repeated, my voice shrill.“Boss’s orders?!”I nearly shouted.
Giada nodded. “If you don’t like it, take it up with Ren.”
Something inside me snapped. It was my sense of caution and self-preservation. Turned out, you could only push someone so far until you found their breaking point. I’d just found mine.
“Fine. I will,” I ground out, clenching my teeth so hard I tasted metal.
