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After that, he leaves me to question the rest of the security team, with Raoul there to keep an eye on me. He doesn’t mention our conversation this morning or really say much at all other than to tell me he’ll be back this evening and to stay in the penthouse—not to go up to the roof or outside at all. The latter annoys me a little, but I let it go. I’m not going to be a pushover, but I can’t deny that things are better when Luca and I aren’t fighting.
The apartment feels huge and empty without Caterina and Ana, and I don’t really know what to do with myself. Exhausted and sore from last night, I decide to take a nap. Icouldgo back to my room, and as I walk up the stairs, I tell myself that I’m going to. But as if my feet have a mind of their own, I find myself walking towards Luca’s room.
The sheets still smell like us, like my soap and his cologne, the faint scent of our warm bodies still clinging to them, and I press my face into the pillow, feeling more lost and confused than ever. My skin tingles with the memory of what we did last night, and I don’t know how to reconcile that with my conviction that I shouldn’t love a man like Luca.
And then, of course, there’s the problem of him believing he can’t loveme.
My dreams are a mess when I finally fall asleep, a mixture of terrifying montages of running away from men with guns, finding myself tied up, trapped, unable to flee, that turn into glimpses of me tangled up with Luca, panting and moaning as he makes me come over and over again, and then vanishing into thin air right as I call out his name.
I wake up feeling bleary and disoriented, sometime in the mid-afternoon. The room feels too hot, the sun shining through the window directly onto the bed, and I sit up slowly, pushing my tangled hair off of my face.
There’s a long, flat box sitting just inside the door, white with a huge black bow wrapped around it and tied elaborately on top. Someone must have left it while I was sleeping, and after last night, the thought of someone coming into the bedroom while I’m sleeping makes me feel jittery and anxious. But Raoul has been watching the interior of the apartment, and I can’t help but think that with Luca home, the security team won’t put a foot wrong.
I hope that when he said he was “questioning” them, he meant with words and not anything more violent.
Gingerly I get out of bed, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor to the box. It feels light when I pick it up, and I set it on top of the bed, tugging at the bow until it comes undone and the sheer black ribbon falls onto the dark grey duvet.
The interior of the box is filled with metallic gold paper, and I push it apart to see a dress nestled there, with tags that readAlexander McQueen.
When I pick it up, I can’t help but gasp. My closet is full of designer clothes now, thanks to Luca, but I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as this dress. It’s made of red silk that feels as soft and fragile as a butterfly wing, with small white and gold chiffon flowers scattered across the knee-length, full skirt. Each petal is perfectly cut, with a small crystal at the center of each flower, and looks as if they’re floating above the rippling silk. The neckline is plunging—even just looking at it, I can tell that it ends just about at my ribs, with wide, gathered straps at the shoulders.
It’s a wearable piece of art, and I can’t imagine where I’m actually going to wear it or why it’s here. I can’t even leave the apartment, let alone go out somewhere worthy of this dress. It almost makes me sad because it’s so incredibly gorgeous.
There’s a white and gold envelope inside the box, and I set the dress down carefully, unsure how I’ll even feel brave enough to put it on. It’s not that it’s all that daring other than the neckline, but it’s so beautiful and delicate that I’m almost afraid to touch it. Reaching for the envelope, I open it to find a card inside, with bold handwriting on thick, cream-colored stock.
Sofia,
Even though we’ve been husband and wife for a week now, I’ve never taken you out on a proper date. Since it’s so overdue, I thought you should have something exceptionally beautiful for the occasion. Meet me on the rooftop at 9 pm—not a second earlier.
Your husband,
Luca
My fingers feel numb, and I almost drop the card out of sheer shock. I read it again, and then a third time, unable to quite believe what’s written there.
Luca and I had a great night, sure. Hot, passionate, undoubtedly driven by the fact that I’d come so close to death. But adate?
I can’t imagine Luca taking anyone out on a date. Well—if I think about it, I guess I can, but notmyidea of a date. When I think of Luca dating, I think of Italian villas and helicopter rides, the kind of over-the-top romance you see on theBachelor,nothing that ever lasts.
There’s no part of me that can imagine Luca and I going out for a movie and dinner at some cute hipster-y bar, the kind of place that I always pictured going on dates to, in the occasional moment that I pictured it at all.
But there it is in black and white—admittedly, written in flowing script on a card that looks like a wedding invitation, instead of typed out in a text. Still—it’s Luca, my husband, asking me out on a date.
I don’t know if it’s the passionate sex we had last night or the fact that we’ve managed to have two whole conversations without it devolving into a fight in almost as many days. However, I still feel a tingle of excitement instead of the dread I would have expected.
The only thing I’m even slightly sad about is that I can’t just call Ana and ask her to come over. Normally, I’d have her help me get ready, but I can’t even text her to tell her about it. Still, even that doesn’t ignite the incandescent rage that I would have felt a couple of weeks ago. Maybe I’m just getting used to this new apartment and the restrictions that came with it, or—
Is it really so hard to understand why it’s like this?I’d felt so suffocated by Luca’s orders—because if I’m being real, that’s what they are—but after looking down the barrel of a gun held by a man who unquestionably wanted me dead, it’s hard to argue that he’s been unreasonable. The Bratva threat is clearly not under control. And as for the fact that marrying him was supposed to keep me safe from all of this—
If there’s one thing I do believe, it’s that Luca wants this threat stopped as much as I or anyone else does. And even if our marriage didn’t make Viktor stop these attacks, it did keep me safe from Rossi.
I could just be rationalizing this all away. My brain might just be scrambled from so many orgasms. But I can’t deny that my stomach is fluttering with butterflies at the thought of what Luca might have planned for tonight, and it has nothing to do with fear.
It’s impossible to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the day. I take a shower to freshen up from my nap and start getting ready about an hour before I’m supposed to meet Luca upstairs. I tell myself that I don’t have any specific reason for the fact that I made sure that every inch of me was freshly shaved or that I chose a lacy pink thong to slip on underneath the dress, but as I stand in front of the mirror curling my hair, I know it’s not totally true.
I want Luca to like what he sees if he winds up taking that dress off of me tonight.
After coloring my hair blonde for so long, it’s still strange to see it back to my natural deep, rich brown, but I can’t deny that it does look better on me. The pale blonde washed out my olive-toned skin, but the mahogany shade that the stylist gave me with the mixture of lighter and darker balayage that she painted in makes my skin almost glow. My dark eyes look even wider as I blend cream and gold eyeshadows over my lid to match the little flowers on the dress. The effect is only more exaggerated. I’ve never been a beauty expert, but once I’m finished swiping on mascara and adding a red lip to match the dress, I have to admit that I look beautiful.
Beautiful enough for someone like Luca. Beautiful enough to hold my own. If Caterina always looks like a queen, I look like a princess. Belle going on a date with the beast—right after she figured out that maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.
I know that I might be slipping down a dangerous slope. One that could end with my heart broken, or worse. But I feel helpless to stop it. Now that Luca and I have started—I want to know where this goes. It feels dangerously like what I imagine chasing a high must be.
Just before nine o’clock exactly, I make my way to the stairs that lead up to the rooftop deck. I’m careful not to go up them until the clock changes over. Then I walk up them carefully in my high-heeled Louboutin sandals, gingerly touching the diamonds at my ears. It felt strange to put on diamonds to go up to the roof. Of course, I’m still wearing my mother’s dainty necklace that I never take off, which always looks small and insignificant next to the glittering expensive jewelry that I have from Luca. But this isn’t the kind of dress I could wear pearl studs or silver hoops with.
If there was ever a dress made for diamonds, it’s this one.
I push the door leading up to the roof open, stepping out onto the deck. And then, as my eyes adjust, my mouth drops open as I take in the sight in front of me.
