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11
Sienna
“Look at you. Stunning,”says the saleswoman in this fancy bridal shop.
I’m on a pedestal in a large room. There are a couple of empty loveseats. Friends and family members should occupy those, but I’d never invite any friends from New York, and my father’s family isn’t a big priority. A few of them are meshed with his business, and I want distance from all those troubles.
The shop’s in one of the most exclusive areas in Chicago, and it’s a boutique rather than a huge store. The wedding planner Clara hired must have some serious contacts because she got me an appointment, and when I arrived, Gabrielle, the dainty French lady helping me, greeted me with a glass of prosecco.
She also gave a glass to Matteo, who politely declined it.
Clara offered to come with me, but I told her it wasn’t necessary. I don’t want to pretend this is the kind of wedding I’m excited about. She must know it because she didn’t insist. I’m sure she offered out of duty.
I glance at the mirror.
A hot wave of emotion swirls inside me, and sadness takes over me as I look at my reflection. The gown is pretty. A silky V-neck dress that hugs my curves all the way down. Looks like a pearly white nightgown, an expensive one. It’s young and sexy but not too sexy, and in other circumstances, I’d enjoy it. But my mom can’t see it. My father forced me into this marriage. And my groom-to-be is a cocaine addict who probably has zero care about my feelings or emotions. I’ll be an object to him. The young trophy wife, daughter of Antonio Mancini.
“Do you love it?” Gabrielle’s thick accent sounds from behind me. “You’re gorgeous. Would you like me to call your friend?”
“Yes.”
She nods and leaves the room.
I don’t know why I want Matteo to see me in a wedding dress. My knees wobble. Last night, he was so supportive in his words to me. He doesn’t know that I plan on getting my hands on my mom’s jewels, selling them, and taking off. I need to have the jewels in hand and know I can trust him with that information. I can’t tell him yet.
But a part of me wants to—wants to give all of me to him, even if he’s made it known he can’t accept any of me.
When he walks in, he’s chatting with Gabrielle.
The moment he sees me, he stops in his tracks. Gabrielle stands next to him with a smile because this woman is obviously thinking of her commission and not what this marriage means to me.
“I need privacy,” he says to Gabrielle. “Don’t come back until I call you.”
“Of course. I’ll be at the front. Take your time and call me if you need anything,” Gabrielle says in a low voice and quickly takes off, closing the door behind her.
He walks up to me, and the air shifts. With each step he takes toward me, my heart beats in a longer staccato.
“Come down.” An intense, deep emotion flickers in the depth of his eyes.
What happened? Why is there a serious expression on his face? Am I in trouble? He can’t have found out about me looking for the jewels, not yet. Unless he’s read my mind… which is completely possible. If I judge how he stands, his spine locked in place, legs apart with a good distance between them, he looks ready for battle.
Damn it, Sienna, get a grip.I can’t show weakness. I’ve already shown too much of it, and what good has that done? Right now, wearing this gown for a wedding I didn’t choose, I’m already vulnerable. I have to fight it. Fight these feelings bubbling under the surface. Fight the insecurities threatening me every second.
I lift my chin. “Come get me,” I say, pride threading through my spine. I sound assured, confident, and in control.
He growls and erases the distance between us with four long strides.
My heart stampedes in my chest, each thump louder with every step he takes. A heady sensation sweeps over me. My breaths are quick and shallow like I can’t occupy too much space right now. What’s he doing to me?
He scoops me from the pedestal, his movements rough and fast—primal, even. He’s acting like I’m the mannequin in a shop window—he’s walked by and seen me, barged into the store, and stolen me away. Taken me with him, away from all I’ve known, away from the security of those walls confining me.
The difference is that I never had that security.
I look at him, inhaling his scent, my toes curling at the emotions darting inside me. He sets me on one of the big couches and lays me down. What?—
He catches my lips with his in a kiss that has every fiber of my being sizzling. I put my hands around his head, my body tingling with need.
He touches my dress, his hand wandering from my neckline down to my stomach to explore lower before hiking up the hem until it bunches at my waist.
