And in this moment, with his heartbeat pounding against my ear, with his scent of musk and leather wrapping around me, I allow my walls to fall.
And I realize, terrified to my core, that when it comes to the man holding me in his arms right now, I no longer have the strength to rebuild them.I don't want to rebuild them anymore.
Chapter 27
Roxy
A few days later
"I'm pretty sure your brain cells are are still taking a nap, otherwise I can't explain how you managed to screw up such a simple cake order," I snap at the girl staring at me like I've grown two heads.
How hard is it to write down vanilla sponge cake with apricot jam? How difficult is it to follow two simple instructions? Two-tier cake with the correct filling.Nobody can do their damn job.
"I'm sorry, it was a last-minute request..."
Her stammering makes me suck in a breath.
"Go get me some apricot preserves—I don't care where from—but every slice of cake needs a teaspoon of preserves next to it, clear?"
She nods frantically before fleeing the room.
I press my hand to my temple, reminding myself that incompetent people are everywhere.
"You can't do anything right."Ivette's voice makes me shudder. Because I'm starting to become her. Because instantly I'm drowning in regret for how I spoke to that girl, just becausethat damn voice in my head won't shut up when something isn't perfect.
The next second, Luna pokes her head through the door.
"Roxy, you look absolutely stunning," my friend's voice calls from behind me as my eyes find my reflection in the mirror.
I look... I don't even have words. The A-line wedding dress has lace attached to the bodice. The sleeves drape softly off my shoulders, the sweetheart neckline frames my chest, and a slit in the skirt reveals my bronzed legs.
The final detail is my shoes, but I figured I'd take advantage of these last moments to let my feet breathe.
Luna comes up behind me and pulls me gently into her arms, and for a fraction of a second, I feel tears gathering in my eyes.What the hell is wrong with me that I'm this emotional? This is not real.
"No sentimentality, okay? We both know why this event is happening, and there's nothing romantic about it," I tell her plainly, though her expression disagrees.
Why am I being such a bitch?
"Whatever you say, but you're still fabulous. Damien's going to need open-heart surgery when he sees you," she finishes with a laugh.
"With my luck, I'd be the one operating on him, so he'd better stay healthy," I say, trying to put a smile on my face.
After she helps me pin a clasp in my hair, the only one I have from my mother, she leaves to check the rest of the garden details.
When I hear a knock at the door, I'm almost certain someone mixed up the floral arrangements, so I find myself saying, "I swear if you put the white roses instead of the..."
But when I turn around, I'm met with two hazel eyes that look hypnotized.
"DAMIEN! It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. If I end up with years of bad luck because of you, I'm going to want significant material compensation." While I'm ranting, he remains completely still. And it’s making me nervous.
I have a shoe in my hand, ready to throw it at his head, but when I see his expression, I lower my arm. Which makes me blush.Why the hell am I blushing?
"You look…," he starts, but his lips press together, at a loss for words.
"I'm sorry if I don’t meet your expectations or if your guests will think I'm too plain," I respond, feeling a trace of heat staining my cheeks.
I hate feeling this vulnerable. Who cares if he doesn't like the dress? Who cares if they don't like you? Your own family doesn't like you—how could strangers who don't even know you?
