Like always, that one question circles my mind as both maids, already by my side, help me to my feet.
The loud sound of Melanie’s heels against the floor echoes as she walks toward me. I hold my breath when she stops just inches from my face. The same expression of contempt settles on her face, but this time it’s layered with something I can’t place my finger on.
She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth to speak.
“You look pathetic.”
After all these years, I should be used to her derogatory remarks, but I flinch. I always do. And maybe that’s because she, more than Dad, is the one who makes the difference between Elena and me impossible to ignore.
“Get yourself together. The ceremony starts soon.”
I watch her twirl on her heels, and before long, she disappears from the room. God, I hate her. I hate them. All of them.
The maids instantly get to work, shrugging off the plain spaghetti-strapped gown I’m wearing. No human deserves this, and maybe one day, when I’m free from all this, I’ll build something—a supportive, kind and nurturing space—for abused girls like me and make sure they never feel this way again.
I don’t protest as they are working on me. I simply stand there, accept my fate, and let them dress me.
Their fingers work along my body, and I don’t miss how none of the maids meet my eyes.
“Where’s Elena?” I ask the one still holding the bouquet. She honors me with a pitiful gaze.
“Word is that she ran away.”
Ran away?I don’t know how I’m supposed to react to that, but the short, cruel laughter that leaves my lips next surprises even me.
So that’s it? When the shit hit the fan, she simply bailed? But then again, of course she’d take the easy way out. And like always, I’ll bear the consequences for Elena’s actions.
The next few minutes pass by in a blur, and I’m standing in front of the mirror, wearing a bridal dress, with a face full of make-up, and a bouquet of white roses in my hand.
“It is time,” says the third maid who came in to fix my make-up. I nod stiffly, letting her lead me out of the room, down the hallway, and into the elevator.
As we ride the elevator down and make our way to the event hall, my nerves are all over the place. Is Dominic even aware that he’s getting a different sister than promised? Lord, I hope he rejects me.
The elevator dings open, and my heart skips a beat. Father is standing at the end of the hallway...waiting for me. I hold my breath at the irony of the situation. The very first time my father will hold me is…on my wedding day.
The maid leaves as we arrive at the hall, and all eyes are on us as soon as the door is pushed open. The crowd is small, consisting mostly of the mafia. Dad loops my hand in his—without showing the slightest emotion—and we walk down the aisle.
My steps are wobbly, my breath coming out in short pants. I wish Elena would jump out and take her rightful place. I wish someone would save me from this nightmare.
The groom is already waiting at the altar, and the moment my father hands me over to him, I freeze, my blood running cold at the sight before me.
Sharp jaws, a clean-cut fade, and those familiar piercing grey eyes stare back at me. The man I fucked last night is standing inches away from me, face deadpan and lips set in a thin line.
This is Dominic Moretti in the flesh!
No. No. No!
The fact that I slept withtheDominic Moretti—who’s by the way my sister’s supposed husband—andthat I’m somehow now getting married to him makes no sense at all. My stomach twists, and I don’t know if it’s disgust or fear.
It does feel like a nightmare for sure, but then the booming voice of the priest reminds me how real it is.
My heart races as he holds my gaze. There’s a pause, then a flicker of surprise that vanishes almost immediately. His eyes hold nothing.
Words are spoken about love and cherishing each other, like a buzzing in my ear. And on the priest’s cue, he slips a ring onto my finger and pulls me in for a kiss that seals my fate.
A tear slips past my eye. My body trembles, but I have to accept the fact that this is my life now. That no one is coming to save me.
***
