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I step into the dress, the white silk cool against my skin. I'm so grateful the zipper is on the side. I do not want to ask my father for help. I have to expel all the air from my lungs and suck my stomach in to get the zipper closed.
When it's done, my breasts are encased tightly in the sweetheart bodice, creating more cleavage than I've ever shown in my life. I can barely breathe. The pain in my ribs is a steadily throbbing ache, but it's not stabbing. So probably not broken.
My mother's wedding tiara, something my sister insisted on me wearing, nestles perfectly in the updo Carlotta instructed the hair stylist to create with my long mousy brown hair. For a moment, I look in the mirror and see someone else staring back at me. An elegant woman with sensual curves.
Then I meet my own eyes in that same mirror and see the barely banked terror.
I know the don won't hurt my sister physically himself and I'm hoping he will protect her from my father, but there is no guarantee he will. She betrayed him too by running. And even if I can convince him to show Carlotta mercy, no one is going to be there to help me when I return to our family home with my father after this fiasco of a wedding gets cancelled.
Chapter 22
"Miss Jilani? Are you and your sister ready?" The voice of the wedding planner comes from the other room.
I freeze, but my father replies to her calmly. "We'll be out in a minute. Send the flower girl and ring bearer out."
"Of course, Mr. Jilani." The woman sounds so perky. She has no idea the drama unfolding in this room.
There's a bruise blossoming on my cheek that the foundation the makeup artist put on me cannot hide. I pull the veil forward and it settles over my face and floats to rest lower than it would have on my taller sister, covering the deep cleavage of my decolletage.
I turn away from the mirror to face my father. "I'm ready."
He turns, eyeing me critically. Then nods. "Your face is hard to see through the veil. You will keep it on throughout the ceremony."
I say nothing and my father takes my silence as agreement.
"Well, come on then," he says.
I step forward and he scowls. "You forgot the shoes."
Toeing off my ballet flats, I consider my sister's shoes. Just as the dress is at least a size too small, they are a size too big. I quickly shove some crumpled tissue into the toe box of the modest pumps.
Thank goodness Aria had suggested the shorter heel for my sister's comfort. I don't wear heels at all and would probably fall right off the three-inch stilettos Carlotta usually has a fondness for
I put the heels back on and gripping with my toes, I move forward, only to nearly trip over the hem of the dress. My father curses. I gather the dress up with shaking hands, careful to keep the hem brushing the floor, but not so long it will tuck under itself and trip me again.
The wedding planner's eyes grow round when she sees us. "Where is the other Miss Jilani? She is supposed to go next."
"We have had a change in plans," my father says dismissively. "Start the wedding march."
We stand in the vestibule waiting for the doors to be opened and Papà puts his arm out for me to take.
I shake my head. "I can't. If I let the dress go, I will trip."
He glares at me but drops his arm. "You stay right beside me."
Like I'm going to run. Even if I had somewhere to run to, I have to speak to the don before my father goes after my sister. And the only way to do that is to take this opportunity.
I'm risking both men's anger, but it's worth it if there is even the smallest chance of saving Carlotta's life.
The End…For Now
