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I changed out of my clothes behind a dressing screen. Domenica walked out of the room, promising to come back in a few minutes, to give us some privacy. I slipped into the gown and then stepped out from behind the screen for Aiden to zip me.
Luca told me I could have any dress I wanted. So I sketched something no one would ever wear, something so unique it would look stunning in wedding pictures. Like something straight off the runway.
He hired one of the top designers in the world to work around the clock to bring my vision to life. The dress had black feathers with a long train and a low-cut corset.
It was exactly as I had envisioned.
“Wow,” my brother muttered as he appraised my dress. “You look like…”
“A black swan,” I finished for him.
His mouth widened as he ran his hand over the feathers in awe. “You sketched this? It’s brilliant.”
I tugged at the dress and smiled, still in awe of my vision coming to life. “I can’t take all the credit. The designer did an incredible job.”
Domenica entered the room a minute later, her mouth wide with surprise. “Stunning.” Her eyes roamed over each of my curves. “You don’t need any alterations. It fits perfectly.”
After I changed, Domenica took the dress. “I’ll bring it back the night before the wedding,” she said before she left the house.
Aiden walked with me onto the veranda, where all four of my men smoked cigars and drank from highball glasses. They looked happy, at peace, as if the weight of the world had lifted off their shoulders.
My mother and Lorenzo were still on the loose. So were the Russians and the men who helped my mother kidnap me.
But for today, they could relax.
We had a lot to celebrate.
Alex woke up screaming from a nightmare. Our girl tried to put on a solid front after she got home, but she still wasn’t herself. There were brief moments where she panicked, or forgot where she was, only to snap out of it a few minutes later.
“Damian,” she whimpered with her eyes closed. “Damian, come back. Don’t leave me.”
She often called out for each of my brothers between fever dreams. Last night, it was Marcello. The night before was Luca. Both nights, they got into my bed with her, but she was so out of her fucking mind she didn’t even know they were in the room with us.
I lifted my cell phone from the nightstand and texted Damian. It was three o’clock in the morning. Like me, he was a light sleeper and never slept more than a few hours a night.
A minute later, my bedroom door creaked open. He stood in the entryway shirtless and wearing a pair of black boxer briefs. My brother rarely wore anything with color, not unless you counted gray.
He scratched the dark stubble on his jaw. “Is she awake?”
“No.” I set the phone on the table. “She’s calling out for you, D.”
He shut the door and closed the distance between us.
“She needs you.” I patted the mattress. “Get in.”
Damian climbed into the bed, and she stirred when he shoved the curls off her cheek to get a better look at her face. “I don’t want to wake her. She looks so peaceful.”
I tipped my head. “Say something to her. Hearing your voice may help.”
Damian lifted her in his arms and rested her head on his chest. His fingers wove through her curls in a loving, soothing gesture that was so foreign to him. Lately, it seemed like Damian was changing.
When I’d first suggested he see a therapist, I prayed it would work. I hoped for his sake that something would click in his brain. But that never happened.
Then Alex came along.
Because of her, I got to witness these moments of intimacy. Damian didn’t know how to console himself, let alone someone else who was hurting. Our father had taught us that weakness would get us killed. He showed us how to endure the pain, but he also taught Damian how to embrace it for his deviant purposes.
He cradled her face with his hand and dipped his head down to whisper in her ear. “Wake up, Pet.”
