Everyone comes to shake our hands and congratulate us.
She’s still as a statue, smiling and nodding here and there. Physically, she’s here, emotionally, she’s checked out, somewhere else entirely, and mentally, she’s all over the place.
I know she needs a moment for herself, and it takes everything in me not to gather her in my arms and fucking leave already.
“Would you show me the way to the restroom?”
“Yeah, sure. Follow me,” she says, sounding grateful for the chance to escape.
I stretch out my arm for her to lead, showing her once again I’ll follow this woman anywhere.
Down the hallway, eyes follow us, and I say softly, “Take a moment. I’ll be here.”
“I need a fucking moment because you sprung this on me,” she snaps.
“Your smile is slipping. People are watching,” I snicker, tone dripping with sarcasm. “You should have become an actor. You would have won several Oscars.”
“I hate you. I fucking hate you.”
“Stop fucking cussing,” I grit out.
She jerks her chin at me. “Or what?”
I get in her face, itching to touch her. “I think you know exactly what I’ll do.”
She enters the bathroom, shutting the door in my face—literally and metaphorically. I stand guard, so no one disturbs her when Chiara comes around the corner.
She sips from her champagne glass, eyeing me intently. “Is she inside?”
I nod.
“You seem to know her well. Must be an excellent people reader.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Her rehearsed smile drops. “Hurt her in any shape or form, and I will end you.”
At least one member of her family has her back.
“I vow she will know no harm,” I say earnestly.
After Chiara studies my face for a moment longer, she nods. “She is not only beautiful, but she’s good. The type of woman you could build a legacy with. Treat her right.”
“I intend to,” I assure her, and she walks away.
When Viviana comes out of the bathroom, she looks more composed.
“Let’s get this fake-ass night over with.”
“There’s nothing fake about any of this.” I smirk to disarm her.
She flicks a strand of her hair, storming away.
She avoids me for the rest of the night, and I seethe to the point of boiling over.
Soon she will never escape me. One more month until she’ll be my wife. Mine. That thought soothes my frayed composure.
I notice her slipping out the terrace door, and stealthily I follow her to the backyard.
