I look at him sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”
“But I thought you said those men who came after Marco were not from you.”
“They weren’t,” he says, looking me right in the eye. “I’m just saying I don’t want you to get hurt again. I have to be smart about this. That’s all.”
Slowly, I nod before turning back to the dresses, though something in my gut doesn’t quite believe Cormac. The more I think about it, the more I wonder if he sent those men after Marco and is just lying about it. But why? It was an accident I was there. I wouldn’t blame Cormac for that.
“And I have to be smart about my future. There’s a good chance I’ll end up married to Marco and I would like to pick out my own wedding dress, thank you very much. If I have to marry him, I want to make some choices in the wedding. I need that. Since I don’t get a say in who my husband will be.”
But will it be so bad to marry Marco? I mean, he is handsome and he did save my life. Those are not bad attributes. Yes, he’s an Italian but that doesn’t really bother me the way it does Cormac.
“You shouldn’t choose that dress,” Cormac mutters, nodding at the dress in my hands. It’s slinky and silky. “You should wear something more modest.”
“I can wear what I want. You’re not Dad.”
“No but I will take over when Dad’s gone one day.”
“Are you saying you’ll control my life then?” I shake my head, walking away from him. “I want to wear a dress I choose. You don’t get a say.”
“I am your brother,” he says, following right behind.
“So? That doesn’t mean you get a say in my wedding dress. I didn’t even invite you to come along. You just decided to come with when I announced I was going to choose a dress.” I pick up my pace and enter one of the changing rooms. That finally gets Cormac to leave me alone.
The dress is sexy on me. A tight bodice with a slight flare silky skirt that shows off the outline of my body well. The off-shoulder straps add an elegant element to the dress. It’s definitely a risqué wedding dress but nothing inappropriate. I love it. It’s completely me.
I leave the changing room to show my dad and brother. They both take one look at the dress and instantly shake their heads.
“No,” Cormac says.
“I agree,” Dad adds.
“No?” I scoff. “Why not? I look great in it.”
“Because you’re not a prostitute, Ciara,” Dad explains like I’m five. “I want my daughter wearing something respectable on her wedding day.”
“I don’t look like a prostitute, Dad. You’re being dramatic. I look good in this dress. It’s classy and sexy at the same time. I’m fully covered. No cleavage showing. No leg showing. What’s the problem?”
“You should wear something more like… this.” Dad grabs a princess-like dress off the rack and holds it up.
“Ugh.” I shudder. “No. You may treat me like I’m a princess but that’s not my style. Never has been. You’re making me marry Marco. I don’t have a say. So I will get a say in what dress I wear. Now, I am choosing this one. Deal with it.”
Dad sighs, slowly nodding his head. “You make a good point.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” He was always easy to manipulate whenever I wanted something.
“You’re just going to agree with her wearing that?” Cormac asks our Dad.
“Your sister deserves to choose her own wedding dress. If she wants to wear that one then…” Dad makes an uncomfortable face. “Then so be it.”
“What will Marco think?” Cormac asks me. “Since you seem to care what he thinks of you.”
I go still. “Why would you say that?”
“Ever since you got hurt, you’re opinion has changed on the man. You seem to…likehim now.” I’ve never heard the word ‘like’ sound so dirty before.
“I don’t like Marco,” I say on instinct. “He saved my life is all. That… means something. And I think he’ll like this.” Actually, I’m sure he’ll hate this. Marco seems a little old-fashioned. Doesn’t help that he’s twenty years older than me. But he has no say either. He can’t stop me from walking down the aisle in this dress.
