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Chapter 5
“Well,this is an interesting turn of events.”
Crossing my leg over the opposite knee, I adjust the second hand on my watch so it ticks in time with the grandfather clock across the foyer. I’m fully aware of the younger Ricci daughters leering from the top of the staircase, observing me as though I’m some sort of zoo animal, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the offbeat ticking.
Typically, I go out of my way to avoid social interaction, especially with the likes of teenagers, but this wasn’t something I could very well avoid.
I don’t put it past Elena to run. She feels trapped, like a broken bird caught in her gilded cage, eyeing the lock on her door without fail in case there’s ever a chance to bolt.
Since I can’t very well risk that, I had to return to the Riccis’ Louisburg Square home with her, ensuring her wings stay clipped.
At least, for now.
The whole ride over, she kept toying with the new ring on her finger, stealing glances at me from the corner of her eye as though she didn’t think I could feel the weight of her gaze.
That’s part of my problem, when it comes to the little goddess; I’m hyperfocused on every move she makes, my body so used to studying her from behind a screen that the openness of our interactions now feels somewhat alarming.
Of course, that doesn’t explain why her perusal immediately makes my dick hard, but that’s another issue entirely.
One I’m not willing to entertain right now, especially after the severity of the kiss we shared.
I have to bide my time, if I want all of this to pan out correctly.
“You know, girls,” I say, meeting their stares, sliding my watch from my wrist, “a picture lasts much longer.”
The youngest, Stella, ducks her head when I look up, playing with the end of a pigtail. Her brown eyes widen behind the square frames of her glasses, and she nudges her older sister with her elbow, grunting as if trying to get her to move.
Ariana, next in age and beauty to Elena, snorts, folding her forearms on the banister and leaning over. She doesn’t break eye contact or bow her spine, a malicious grin spreading across her face, igniting in her dark irises.
“Too bad vampires don’t photograph.”
“Clever.” I brush some dirt off my pants. “Sure you want to antagonize your new brother-in-law, especially if he is a vampire?”
She shrugs, moving past Stella to glide down the stairs. Her movements are lithe and gazelle-like, ballet bleeding into even her mundane activities.
Pausing on the bottom step, she squints at me, wrapping an arm around the railing. “What happened to Mateo?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean,” she says, glaring. “Why are we not in a church right now, watching him marry Elena? Why have you been here half an hour, and he hasn’t even shown up to fight for her?”
The fine hairs on the back of my neck stiffen, my nerves reacting even though there’s no reason to. “I’m sure he knows better.”
She snorts again, crossing her arms over her chest, the rust-hued dress she’s in flushing the color from her face. Hair pulled into a sleek bun, lips lined with a bright red gloss, I can’t help noticing the differences in the sisters.
It’s very clear to me that Ariana’s elegance isn’t something she has to work at; it comes naturally, like breathing or sleeping, and I can’t help wondering who she inherited the poise from.
Certainly not her mother.
At least, not the Carmen I used to know.
Elena’s finesse, on the other hand, seems to require a conscious effort, her interest in the arts and finer things something she’s had to force until it became part of her personality, like some sort of Pavlovian response to the life she’s shackled to.
There’s a thinly veiled darkness resting beneath her carefully coiffed exterior, one that often results in bruised knuckles and bloody lips.
She suppresses it, buries it deep to make her family happy and fulfill her duties, but it’s there, just begging to be unleashed.
Part of me is curious to know what that would take.
