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“Yeah, we’re going to share a bed. Does that bother you? You’re my wife, Pia. I want to sleep next to you.”
I shake my head.It’s fine.I look down at my wedding dress. The hem is a little dirty from the running I did through the olive trees, but everything else is pristine. However, I hate this dress. My father chose it for me, and I want it off.Do you have anything I can wear?
Dario nods and gets up, going into his large walk-in closet. I hear him open a drawer, and a moment later, he walks out with a satin nightgown. It doesn’t escape my notice that it’s short and won’t leave much to the imagination.
Why do you have that?
“I’ve been planning this for months, you know.” He hands me the nightgown. It’s so satiny that it slips through my fingers. “I’ve thought about what you would wear when it’s just you and me. I can’t wait to see you in this.” He bends down and kisses me again. It’s light and firm. “Go put it on,” he whispers.
Goodness, the way he looks at me. I might not survive this.
I stand up and walk to the ensuite bathroom. I had an ensuite bathroom of sorts in my tower, but it was really just a shower and toilet in the room with me. It was more like a prison than a luxury bathroom.
The second I try taking my dress off, I realize the problem. I can’t reach the zipper in the back. The thought of being stuck in this dress forever makes me panic. My breath comes out shallower. My chest grows tighter. I lean over the counter, squeeze my eyes shut, and focus on breathing, but it’s tough. I’m dying. At least, it feels that way.
Without warning, I fall to the ground, landing hard on my butt. But I don’t feel any pain. I’m so caught up in my panic that nothing else registers.
“Pia,” Dario knocks on the door. “Are you all right? I’m coming in.” He barges into the room and stops once he sees me curled up on the floor. “Pia.” He kneels next to me, putting his hand on my arm. “Pia, are you hurt? What happened?”
My lungs aren’t working. My chest hurts. I’m dying.
I grip his arms and begin to cry silent tears.
“Oh, Pia.” Dario wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close. The way he strokes my back helps soothe me and bring me back. “You’re safe. You’re all right.”
I gasp in air once I feel like I can finally breathe normally again. The feeling of death edges away from me. I’m not dying. I’m not.
But I am embarrassed.
I burrow my head in my hands, turning away from him.
“Pia, what happened?” He holds out his phone.
My hands scramble for it, dropping it as I try to pick it up. Dario picks it back up and hands it to me again. Why is he being so nice to me? What have I done to deserve this?
“Just tell me,” he says softly.
Once my hands stop shaking, I manage to type.I can’t get my dress off.
“Do you want my help?” He doesn’t even ask why I freaked out, and I appreciate him even more because of it.
I nod, and he helps me stand up. I inhale deeply when I feel his fingers brush me through the dress’ fabric, and when I hear the zipper go down, I feel more vulnerable than ever before, even more so than when we were kissing on the bed. The warm air in the room brushes my back as he pulls the zipper all the way down, exposing my back.
I wait a moment for him to move, but he doesn’t.
Instead, his fingers touch my skin and trace my skin ever so gently. How he manages to make me feel alive with just one touch, I’ll never know.
And then, just like that, he stops.
Dario clears his throat. “I’ll leave you to it.” He walks out of the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.
I quickly make do with my dress and change into the nightgown. It hugs my body, unlike my wedding dress, which was more like a tarp.
I look … womanly. Ifeelwomanly.
Now, I just need to leave this room and face my husband head-on.
Why do I get the sense that the minute he sees me like this, he’ll never let me go?
