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“That’s enough,” Tommaso snaps, his hold on me lessening a bit.
“Are you going to dress yourself?” Alessandro leans closer until I can smell cigarettes on his breath. “Or do you want me to do it for you?”
My throat strains as a tear escapes, and my voice breaks over the words, “I’ll d-do it.”
A triumphant smile spreads over his face, but at least he pulls his hand away from me.
Tommaso shoves me forward, and I quickly grab hold of the dress. I can feel Alessandro’s eyes burning over my bare skin, and I hurry to step into the wedding dress. Yanking the chiffon up my body, I shove my left arm through a sleeve before struggling with my right arm.
Tommaso comes closer, and it has me shrinking away from him.
“I just want to help,” he assures me, none of the cruelty on his face that’s on Alessandro’s.
I watch with a pounding heart as he helps me get my right arm into the tight sleeve. With his head bowed, he whispers, “Stop fighting. You’re just making it harder for yourself.”
“I’ll never stop fighting,” I bite the words out between clenched teeth.
When Tommaso steps away from me, he gives me a look of pity.
Alessandro picks up the veil and holds it out to me. “Cover your face. No one wants to see a bride with bruises.”
I grab it from him, muttering, “Fuck you.”
I’ve never cursed as much as I’ve done in the past four days.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” he taunts me.
Tommaso gives Alessandro a look of warning. “Go wait outside. I’ve got this.”
The two guards stare at each other before Alessandro stalks out of the room.
My eyes lock on Tommaso’s face. “Help me, please. I can see you’re not like them.”
He takes the veil from me and arranges it on the top of my head. Before he pulls it over my face, he looks at me. “You have no idea what I’m like. I might not rape you, but I will kill you.”
The little hope I got from Tommaso protecting me disappears.
He covers my face, then gestures to the door. “After you.”
I can’t do this.
I gather the chiffon of the skirt and walk into the hallway. Alessandro leads the way down the stairs, and when we stop by double doors, the wedding march dramatically fills the air from where it’s played on an organ.
God.
When I step back, Alessandro grabs hold of my right arm and yanks me forward.
“No!” I cry, and even though my arm aches terribly, I try to pull out of his hold.
Tommaso grabs my left arm, and the guards drag me down the aisle as I kick and scream.
Greco is waiting by the altar with a priest who doesn’t seem shocked by what’s happening in his church. Guests fill the pews, and I get a glimpse of Alissa crying where she’s sitting between her father and mother.
NoNoNoNoNo.
I’m brought to a stop by the altar and forced to face Greco, who smiles triumphantly, an evil look in his eyes.
“I won’t marry you.” My words sound stronger than I feel, and to bring my point across, I spit at him.
