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That’s just further proof I’m foolish, but I can’t help it.
I step back and continue looking in the mirror. I’m wearing a deep purple pants suit. It’s fitted and tailored to adhere to my body perfectly. The top is a long-sleeved jacket with a cross button waist and I don’t have a shirt underneath. I do have on a sexy, lacy bra in a color that matches the purple suit, and it makes me feel feminine and beautiful all at the same time. I pulled my hair and secured it at my nape in a chignon style, but with more curls in the bottom so it looks contained and yet playful at the same time. I added in my diamond tear drop earrings. My shoes are Manolo satin pumps—purple to match my outfit—with this gorgeous diamond encrusted buckle on them. My hands look bare. I thought of wearing my engagement ring. I haven’t worn it since Marco didn’t show for my twentieth birthday. If I put it on tonight, it’s like waving a white flag. Marco would take that to mean all is well when it’s definitely not. For that reason alone, I leave it in the nightstand of my room here.
I frown as I look around the room. It’s beautiful. There’s no denying that. Still, it’s done in pink and black. That’s a color combination that I liked when I was a teenager, but it’s a little glaring now. Plus, it’s weird that a guest room would be so loud. Those are usually more neutral. Heck, my father’s whole house is neutral. This bed even has a giant canopy on it. It’s unlike any guest room I’ve ever seen.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. It’s not my place to question the décor of Marco’s home—even if it is weird. With one last look, I walk to the chest and grab my glittery rhinestone clutch and head out. I shouldn’t be nervous about tonight. It’s not me who has things to prove when it comes to this relationship. Still, I can admit I am.
I force my steps to be slow and even as I walk down the hallway and then down the grand marbled staircase that would bring me to the foyer. This house is dripping in money. The decorating is so ostentatious that at times I can’t believe it. The mirrors in the halls are draped on each side and are covered in a multi-colored bed of jewels. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and more cover the frame of the mirrors. They probably cost millions but are clearly the ugliest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Instead of looking refined and property of the rich—which I’m sure was the intention—they look cheap, tawdry and like a kindergartener made them on his or her first day of school.
It's that bad.
I heard Marco talking with his brothers. I know they’re contemplating tearing this house down and rebuilding. That seems extreme, but if he ever asked, I’d have to tell him that I agree. I hate this place as it is now. There’s also a darkness inside that goes straight through me. I have no idea how Melina grew up in this house yet is so sweet and giving. It would seem to me that the coldness in this house would have frozen her clean through. When I make it to the bottom of the foyer, it shouldn’t surprise me, but it’s empty. Marco is nowhere to be found.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and barely contain my sigh.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I hiss under my breath.
I’m never going to learn. Never. There’s just something wrong with me. That has to be it. I’m about to turn around and march back upstairs. I need to wash my face and go to sleep and rest till the morning. After that, I will get up, pack, and leave.
“Helena,” Marco says, coming out of a darkened corner—which means he saw and heard everything. Shit.
“I thought you were a no show,” I mutter as he walks over to me. He’s wearing a black suit with a white shirt, and he looks divine. God, I’ve always thought it, but Marco is really the most beautiful man that God ever put on the earth. He also doesn’t age. He ferments like a fine wine and just gets better and better.
It should be illegal.
“Nope, I was standing here waiting for my date to appear, and I have to say, Princess, you are more than worth the wait.”
Damn. That’s a good line.
I may not survive this date. I’m even blushing. Marco leans down and my heart stutters in my chest. I thought he would kiss my lips, but instead he kisses my temple. “Did you know that purple is my favorite color?”
I did. I absolutely did know that.
I don’t answer truthfully. Instead, I shake my head silently in disagreement. “I didn’t.”
