I smile, remembering she chose that color for her engagement as well.
She brushes her hand over the fabric, grinning. “A reminder of who he’s married to.”
I arch a brow, saying with absolute certainty. “I don’t think Cato could ever forget that.”
We giggle, but then the atmosphere changes, growing heavier with implications.
“Ready?” she asks, the corners of her mouth pulling down.
“As ready as I can be,” I sigh.
At the top of the stairs, Chiara moves first, walking toward her husband.
The reality crashes onto me, freezing me on the spot.
The foyer buzzes with people, from the men of the Syndicate and their wives to the extended family on my side and some unfamiliar faces, all displaying tense postures as if anticipating an attack.
All eyes turn to me, except for the man who keeps his back to me. That must be him.
My heart picks up, threatening to shoot out of my chest. The assured way he carries himself reminds me of my Tristan.
I shut my eyes for a moment, begging my brain to stop thinking about him for a few seconds so I can pull off this shitshow.
My palms turn clammy. I am afraid my hand is going to slip off the rail, and I will plummet to my death.
Then everything happens in slow motion. He turns to me as if giving me time to accept the impending shock. Only for shock to morph into betrayal.
Tristan.MyTristan.
He’s my future husband?
I gulp, willing to dislodge the lump in my throat not to suffocate from distress.
No, this is my mind playing tricks on me by placing the face of the man I love on this stranger so I can cope with my imminent marriage.
I blink and blink some more, but the face never switches to another one. Shock melts into dread and then acceptance.
I knew he was dangerous, but I never imagined how far his cruelty could run.
There’s an array of emotions flashing in his eyes, but I shut my heart to the silent plea etched there. The betrayal unfolds into instant heartache, promising to shut down my system. It’s a wonder I can stand when all I desire is to crawl into a hole and disappear for good.
I bleed out even though no one is privy to my insides being butchered in this exact second by the man whom I trusted with my life, offered him my body, and gave him my heart. Only for him to throw my gifts back at my feet—used, abused, dead.
I can’t even afford to tend to my wounds in peace. Wounds that will probably never heal. Everyone expects an engagement to happen, and so does he, the fucking traitor who caused me the greatest pain, one I doubt I will overcome.
Holding his gaze, I wish to become blind, so I never have to see those treacherous brown eyes ever again.
We have an entire conversation like this—silent but poignant.
“I will never forgive you.”
“I know, but we’ll see.”
He looks so damn handsome in his tailored suit, dressed to aTfor the occasion. Just like the devil, he makes a dramatic entrance, loving the spotlight. But he seduced me once, took advantage of my desire to explore and willingness to sin, but I’ve seen his true face.
Behind the shiny exterior and the beauty of a fallen angel lives a veritable monster.
I am paying the price for trusting the devil by falling. Every second, I will hit rock bottom and shatter into pieces, cutting myself open on the sharp edges of every wish I ever made.
