Chapter 15
I may snap her neck if she looks at me again with confusion or disdain. Or stab her with the oversized letter opener I saw on her desk earlier. Maybe I’ll even strangle her to death just to feel the life pouring out of her. I’ll stare into her eyes while she takes her last few breaths, relishing in the fact that my cattiness won in the end.
Only that would make it difficult to find someone who can make my wedding dress as quickly as I need it.
While I wasn’t too excited when Damiano mentioned that we would use Alyssia’s services for his tux and my dress, he clarified that it’s in our best interest. If we want our timeline to be believable, we can’t afford to waste any precious seconds awarded to us. Yet, despite the obvious, she’s our best option.
Plus, since this is my plan that he’s going along with, I’m willing to bear my annoyance in silence and conjure dark scenarios of torturing her that flash through my head.
A laugh from across the room reaches my ears, and I come out of my thoughts. Seated on the settee in Alyssia’s fitting room, I watch as she finishes taking Damiano’s measurements. Her fingers skim over his chest, lingering longer than they need, and I control the urge to stand behind her and bash her face into the mirrors that surround his back. I don’t miss her pressing into his body when she thinks something is out of reach to feel him or the shy smile she pastes on her face. My fingers gently twirl the stem on the glass I’m sipping on as I watch them.
When I first met Alyssia, the tension between them was apparent. I had surmised that they had either been intimate in the past and their relationship ended badly, or they had another history with each other- Not the good kind.
Now, it feels different. Whatever tension she had that day is gone, and she’s obviously seducing him– Or trying to.
I want to believe I’m still unsure of their relationship, but it’s as clear as my hate for Aldo.
They fucked.
She developed feelings.
He’s marrying me.
She has to make my dress.
Could the universe be any more cruel?
Casually, I watch them over the rim of my glass. Alyssia’s too happy talking to Damiano. She’s full of smiles and conversation. Watching her up against him or touch him too long over and over, whether she’s working or not, is rubbing me the wrong way. Mainly because she barely said two sentences to me when I told her what I wanted my dress to look like. Or when she pretended she didn’t understand my request, she would look at Damiano, and he would speak to her in Italian.
Poor stupid bitch.
It’s a powerplay – A horrible, desperate one at that.
She’s giving subtle hints that she believes he’s choosing the wrong person. And while I’m not the jealous type, I’m possessive. I will act based on principle.
The principle is that he’s mine.
After she laughs, she gently taps his shoulder, and I feel a smirk cross my face at whatever desperation she feels. She murmurs something I can’t hear, and he nods before she walks away. Her eyes shift to me, and she haughtily leaves the room for me to look back at Damiano.
I like that he hasn’t given her the time of the day by returning her flirtatious advances. If he did, I would have to show him what I meant when I agreed there was no out of this relationship in his office.
Damiano’s eyes move to me, a twinkle flashes that I decipher as satisfaction, and he comes towards me. “You’re quiet.”
He picks up his glass of champagne, puts it back on the table, and extends his hand for mine.
Which is simply a flavored sparkling water for theatrics.
I give it to him, watching him sip. “When was the last time you fucked her?”
He looks at me with the glass poised at his lips for a second, then lowers it. Unlike others, he doesn’t seem surprised or bothered that I figured it out. “Ten years ago.”
He drinks from my glass again, then hands it back to me. “Does it bother you?”
Does it?
In my head, I feel my arms cross under my chest, and my index finger runs along my lip while I think about it. My other hand holds the flute, and I finally lift it to my lips, looking up at him. “Was there emotion involved for you?”
I don’t ask about her because she still harbors something for him…. And I get it. Ten years ago, I’m positive a young, virile Damiano shattered her reality about sex and relationships, only to still use her for her upscale clothing and business.
“No. There hasn’t been emotion involved in a long time, and never with her.”
I can sense he’s telling the truth and am amused by it. I stand up. My full height is nothing close to his, but I know how to make myself seem more prominent than I am. I tilt my head and smile at him calmly but authoritatively. “If she touches you any longer than necessary again, I will cut her hands off, grind them, and force-feed them to her through a tube shoved up her ass.”
Damiano’s hand reaches out and cups my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look at him. Amusement dances in his eyes, and there’s a slight smirk on his face. “Veramente?”
He teases me.
I edge in closer to him. To the outside world, it looks intimate, but we both know what it is right now. “Yes, really,”
I respond. I pull my head back and look at him again, smiling as broadly as possible.
Lowering his hands to my hips, Damiano runs them up and down smoothly. He smiles at me. “There’s that queen you were talking about.”
He has no idea.
I skim my manicured hand over his tailored suit’s lapel, straightening it. I want to reply that I’ve always been here but only filtered in briefly. I want to tell him I have so much more to give and show him what I mean. I want him to know exactly how I feel.
But I can’t yet.
I move to lean in, stopping when I hear footsteps getting closer. I hesitate, focusing on the hesitant limp that Alyssia has as her steps vibrate against the floors. The one that expresses she used to dance and has broken too many bones in her feet to be able to hold her too-thin frame. The same feet that I’m going to shove up her ass after I beat her with them if she touches Damiano again.
“Hi,”
I whisper against his lips, then kiss him lightly when the door opens.
“Good news.”
He doesn’t rush to pull away from me but kisses me roughly, then looks at Alyssia. His arm wraps around my waist. “News?”
Alyssia looks between us. A forced smile covers the irritation that lines her face. “We should be able to have everything complete before the wedding. Some of the requests are, let’s say, different but accommodatable so long as nothing changes.”
She looks at me. I know she means the dress I requested.
If she ruins my dress or fashionably forced wedding day, I will murder her while wearing the dress and walk down the aisle adorned in her blood.
“No mistakes, Alyssia,”
Damiano says as if he feels my tension. “If you have any problems, contact Gio. He’ll be quicker to get to versus Echo or me since we’ll be busy with the arrangements.”
In an endearing way that is all too played out, he looks down at me and places his hand on my stomach. I withhold my laughter at the motion because I’m as aware as he is that Alyssia will get the rumor mill going for us. She is a high-dollar boutique owner, and most of her business comes from clients who love to gossip.
He’s selling this baby thing.
I thank the Gods above that I’m not petite and have plenty of curves that may help to hide a fake pregnancy, then remind myself to take my birth control later. I trust Damiano. More than I have trusted anyone in years. It’s not enough, though, to stop taking my pills simply because he requested it, then finger fucked me in the bathroom of a church during a funeral for a man I killed.
Alyssia nods, the unhappiness etching her porcelain face. “I will do that. There will be no issues.”
“Good.”
Damiano gently takes my hand, and we make our way out of the boutique into harsh and unforgiving sunlight.
In sync, we both pull our sunglasses down and look at each other, then at Gio, who is standing outside with Vlad and Marco Jr., whom I found out goes by Marc, to not be confused with his father - Because dropping one letter makes a world of difference.
“Where to next?”
I ask as we get in the SUV. I buckle myself in, waiting for Damiano to situate himself, then he looks at me.
He briefly looks down at his phone that, lights up, then back at me. “The venue.”
I nod. “We have a tasting at home today at four.”
Damiano nods. “We’ll be back in time.”
Somehow, we’ve been doing great double-teaming this plan. I am partially shocked that Damiano has been as involved the last few days, especially with everything else happening. I had expected him to check out, give me the reins, weigh in at the end, and ruin all my planning. We’ve pretty much split all responsibilities down the middle.
Because I have no friends or family, I’ve given the guest list to Damiano. I don’t know how he will do it or who he will invite, but I don’t care. The point of this wedding, and having it so quickly, is to ensure my safety.
"How many people do you think will be at the wedding?"
Damiano continues texting from his seat beside me, then puts his phone down. "I'm at two hundred now."
My heart hammers in my chest, my brain unable to wrap around the idea of so many guests. "Two hundred people will attend our wedding in two weeks?"
He smiles. Taking my hand in his, he kisses my knuckles. "Or more."
I don't believe it. There's no possible way that he knows that many people will turn out to be free that soon. I also expected it to be a small wedding. Something intimate where I would be able to just stare at him and obsess over our first time fucking as forcefully wedded husband and wife.
"Will Rossi be there?" I use their last name as a whole.
"They'll receive an invitation as is customary, but with Reynaldo's death, they may just send a gift."
I scoff. "Their heads would be great."
From the front seat, Gio chuckles, and Damiano smirks at my response. "In due time, Bellissima."
I exhale a deep breath. "Who else will be there?”
"Politicians, investors, business partners, other people with ties."
I get the ties mean other families will be there or won’t, but due to The Council, they will receive an invite. And with all the other bigwigs present, all families will be amicable. “Politicians?”
Damiano smirks. “Yes, more than enough of them are either corrupt, trying to stop corruption, or are intelligent enough to observe which hands they should be shaking.”
“Makes sense.”
I open my clutch and pull out my lipstick, reapplying it easily. “Am I supposed to be the docile bride? The meek mouse?”
I tease, checking my teeth in the mirror to ensure I didn’t get any lipstick on them.
Quiet stretches through the vehicle, and I see Damiano staring at me. The expression on his face shows the amusement he finds in this conversation with me right now. “Echo,”
he begins, and my insides melt at the seduction in his tone, “you are many things, but meek and docile aren’t what I look for in you.”
When his heated stare becomes too much, I look away. While he’s been pulling me to him since the funeral, I have tried to distance myself. I have more deaths that will accumulate, and I don’t want him to distract me.
“How do you want me to be?”
I question him once I’ve reclaimed my calm demeanor.
He seems to have caught on to my change in attitude. “Be yourself. I’m not concerned with you embarrassing me if that is what you think.”
I want to argue with him, but I know that won’t go over so well with Gio and Vlad in the car. While my future husband has shown lately that he enjoys me more than he would a random romp or forced marriage, I don’t doubt that he would consider himself infatuated enough with me not to kill me if need be.
And I am wildly obsessed with him for that.
I force a gentle smile on my face. “I would never embarrass our family.”
The dark glare in his eyes shifts at my words as if he’s realizing for the first time that it will be our family and not just his. He sighs. “Echo-”
Damiano’s cut off when the car stops. I look around and see that we aren’t at the venue we booked but at a doctor’s office. I read the name, then look at Damiano amused. “A fertility specialist?”
“He’s a high-risk obstetrician. The best in the nation, in fact.”
My eyes roll, but I still manage to smirk at Damiano. “A good cover. You’ll forgive me if I’m not moved by something like that right now.”
He rebuilds his rough exterior instantly. “Despite what you think, Echo, this plan of yours is going to set a lot of shit in motion. You’ll forgive me if I need to assure myself I’m not wasting my time.”
I scoff. “Because I was tortured, beaten, raped, shot, and lost child- A child? Surely, I must be unable to carry children now.”
I sarcastically quip.
He doesn’t say anything, but I see he doesn’t like my words. He doesn’t like hearing what I’ve lived with for years.
Calmly, I watch as he unbuckles himself and follow suit. I should be embarrassed that he’s bringing me here to make sure that I can provide him with children, but I’m surprisingly not. I know that I can still have children. It hasn’t been an option since I realized I was on the run.
If anything, I’m shocked that it took him this long to do this.
I wait until Vlad opens my door. I look up at him and offer a smile that I know Damiano can see from the other side of the car. “Beary.”
I greet him smoothly as I step around him.
Vlad closes the car door behind me, and I walk around without waiting for him like I should. By the time I reach the other side, Damiano is stepping out. His deathly glare makes me laugh inside with glee.
He either likes me more than he’s admitting or is just as crazy as I am.
The possibility of both is very likely.
We don’t say anything to each other as we walk into the empty clinic except for a nurse and the doctor. They look up expectantly from the desk, and the doctor immediately smiles at us. “There you are. I was starting to think you changed your mind.”
“No,”
Damiano chuckles, “we just finished up with Alyssia.”
I note their relaxed demeanor and realize that the doctor is close to Damiano’s age. I’ve never heard of him, but I sense they might know each other from college. In my search, I hadn’t seen that Damiano had many friends besides Gio, if he had any. His allies all have familial ties but don’t hang out often.
“Ah, Alyssia.”
He rolls his eyes dramatically, then turns to me. A smile spreads on his face. “And I assume that this is your fiancée?”
When he extends his hand, I take it. “Echo.”
I introduce myself.
His eyes widen in friendly approval. “Only because I know this guy’s manners are subpar, I’m Benicio.”
“He’s Dr. Ruiz.”
Damiano corrects. “Should we get started? We have other appointments that we need to keep.”
Benicio laughs at Damiano’s words. “Fine, come back this way.”
He heads towards the back. “So, you’re having the wedding of the century, huh?”
Damiano grunts in response. “I think you mean Ilya.”
“Ilya.”
Benicio chuckles. “Ilya Petrov.”
The Russian accent he tries to copy is cute at best, and I like his joking, which is the opposite of what I’m used to with Damiano. “How is he doing? Still married?”
A door is opened for us, and we enter, then take our seats across from Benicio’s desk. “They’re about to welcome their second child any day now,”
Damiano informs him.
I know who Ilya Petrov is, and I recall him being at Luca’s funeral, but I know that he didn’t have a pregnant woman with him. I don’t doubt that her being pregnant excused her from attending, but I almost wish that there could have been a woman that I could become acquainted with.
Finally, Benicio has become professional when he sits down. His kind eyes fall on me, and he smiles. “Great. So, you two want to ensure everything is working, right? That way, we can have ten mini Damiano’s running around.”
Simultaneously, Damiano and I scoff at Benicio’s words. “Everything works just fine,”
I say with contempt at the implication that I can’t have babies.
I’m sure that I need a therapist more than I need an obstetrician.
“Of course,”
Benicio responds, attempting to placate the situation that is bound to get tense. “The tests we’re doing are rudimentary to what we would be doing if you were struggling to conceive.”
I figured as much. At this point, Damiano wants to get this baby-making rolling.
I sigh, uncomfortable with this situation because I’m not crazy about doctors. It feels like every time I’m in an unpredictable circumstance, I am around a doctor. I'm not sure if it’s a good thing, but I know that I have to do this to ensure my plan goes the way it should.
My plan is all I have left.