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We walk for about five minutes until she pulls me to a stop outside of a building with a black door and presses an intercom button.
“What is this place?”
“Haute Couture Bridal,” a voice says on the other end.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding—”
“Hello, yes, we have an appointment at midday. The name is Benedetto.”
“Oh yes, we’ve been waiting for you.” A buzzer sounds. “Come on up.”
“Olivia, you said you’d let me forget about Isiah, not come here shopping for my goddamn wedding to him that I don’t even want.”
“You only get married once, especially in our world. You’ll leave your husband in a body bag or vice versa, so you need to do it right, even if you hate the man you are marrying.” She waves her hand. “And this is the most exclusive wedding dress shop in London.”
Sighing heavily, I follow her up the stairs into a very exclusive and expensive wedding gown boutique.
“You weren’t kidding about exclusive,” I mutter.
Olivia smiles widely. “So many gorgeous gowns!” she exclaims as a pair of assistants come forward to greet us.
I’m quickly ushered over to the dressing room while Olivia helps me select which dresses she thinks will look best on me. It’s like being in a dream with all these beautiful gowns—some sleek and simple, some embellished with delicate beading or lace details that add an exquisite touch of romance to them—swirling around my feet until I am transformed into something fresh from the fairytale world. All of which would be exciting if it weren’t for the heavy reality weighing on my heart.
My story is not a fairytale, it’s more like a nightmare. My marriage is being forced upon me to a man I can’t stand.
“You look gorgeous in every one you try,” Auntie Olivia says as I come out in the third dress.
I clench my jaw, attempting to keep my composure as the tears begin to well up in my eyes. “But I don’t want to marry Isiah,” I choke out.
Olivia gives me a sympathetic look. “I understand why you don’t want to, Bella. But unfortunately, you have no choice.”
Hot tears pour down my face as I feel the crushing reality of my arranged marriage settle in.
She wraps her arm around my shoulders and murmurs, “It sucks, I know. No one should be forced to marry someone they don’t love,” she says, trying to console me. “But that’s the way it is for us women in the mafia. We don’t get to have a say when it comes to our own lives.”
“You like your husband, though.”
Olivia laughs a hollow laugh. “Did you really think it was like that for us from the beginning?”
My brow furrows. “It wasn’t? You and Darius seem so perfect for each other.”
She offers me a tender smile. “I loathed him at first, just like how you feel about Isiah right now.”
“That seems impossible.”
“Trust me,” she says with a shake of her head, “it is more than possible. The bizarre thing about hatred is that it can be just as powerful and passionate as love.”
“There’s no way that I could ever love Isiah Darcy.”
She purses her lips. “I wouldn’t be so sure, Bella.”
The assistant comes to check on us then, interrupting our conversation. “How are you getting on?”
I look at myself in the mirror and shake my head. “Not this one.”
Olivia agrees, as she helps me out of it. After trying on a few more styles, we finally settle upon a stunner of an A-line dress made from layers of white tulle that almost shines when the light catches.
The intricate embroidery detail at the bodice along with iridescent sequins speckled throughout the underlay — it almost takes my breath away, but still the dress is overshadowed by who my fiancé is.
