Chapter 3 - Stefano
I run my hand over the collar of my black suit and straighten the rose pinned into my pocket. The sun is getting ready to set, and outside there are hundreds of guests waiting to witness my marriage to the most beautiful girl in the world.
I grin at my reflection in the mirror.
I can’t believe this is actually happening. Really, I am surprised her brothers let everything go forward—even after Darya agreed to it, I thought they would emphatically disagree and not let it happen.
From the second I saw her, I have wanted her. It was at her brother’s family lunch. She was stepping out of the pool after swimming with her nieces and nephews, and right then and there I told myself I would have her. No Matter what it took, she would be mine.
Except, despite my best efforts, she never seemed to soften to my charm. She always kept me at a distance, remaining cold and difficult to read.
I started obsessing over her. Who she was with, where she was going, wondering if there was another man who I didn’t know about.
I would lay awake at night thinking about her constantly. It was starting to drive me crazy—it still does, actually.
I knew it was getting bad when I started following her. I had to know everything about her. I wanted to know what she was doing, what she enjoyed, her hobbies, her favorite foods, her friends. To my relief, I have never seen her entertaining any other man. She treats them all the same way she treats me—very stand-offish.
I would watch her from my car when she sat at a coffee shop reading. The beautiful, delicate smile that would settle over her lips when she started enjoying whatever was on the page of her book. It would set my heart on fire to see her face light up like that. Sometimes a mischievous smile. Sometimes something more romantic and dream-like.
When she went out at night to go dancing with friends, I didn’t take my eyes off her for a second. It wasn’t only because of how good she looks in those short glittering dresses, it was also to keep her safe. The thought of something happening to her while I wasn’t there to keep her from harm drove me crazy. I have never struggled like this over a girl before. I have never had someone pull me in so fiercely as she has.
I feel intoxicated and addicted to her and I haven’t even felt her skin.
She consumed my mind from morning till night every day, and I just knew that they only way I was going to be able to get any relief from this constant distraction that she had become in my life was to make her mine.
And now it is actually happening.
I am about to marry Darya Dubrov.
With one last glance in the mirror, I run my fingers through my hair, then turn to leave the room. I have a wedding to get to. My wedding.
***
Standing at the altar, my stomach is flip flopping with excitement, but outwardly I appear calm and in control. I can’t have anyone here knowing how much this actually means to me.
The music starts playing and the crowd settles down to a silent hushed excitement as they all turn towards the other end of the isle, waiting for the first glimpse of Darya.
My heart is thundering so loudly it feels as though the people standing close to me might be able to hear it.
She steps out onto the carpet with her arm looped through Ivan’s. And suddenly, my heart makes no sound at all. It’s as though the entire world is beneath water. Everything is moving in slow motion. She moves so gracefully as she walks towards me, her eyes not meeting mine, a soft white veil obscuring my view of her face.
Her dress is ornate and delicate. Lace clings to her body, hugging her waist and then flaring out over her hips. It accentuates her curves in the most beautiful way.
Her arms are wrapped in lace sleeves that don’t go all the way up to her shoulders. Her long, slender fingers are wrapped around a bouquet of white roses and big wild lilies, and I wonder what it would be like to feel her fingers on my skin.
Ivan stops just in front of me and turns his back to me as he lifts the veil from her face.
Her eyes are locked onto him, and a tight smile is pressing her luscious lips together.
He kisses her cheek and then steps away.
Darya comes to stand in front of me, and finally her bright blue eyes and the dream world contained within them meet mine.
It feels like a tidal wave slams into my chest beneath the intensity of her beauty. I am completely removed from this world and dragged into those swirling blue pools of magic.
I blink, trying to drag myself back to reality.
“Shall me we begin,” the pastor says with a broad smile.
I hardly hear the words as he moves through our ceremony.
She is boldly looking right at me the entire time, and it is driving me wild.
“Do you, Stefano Napoli, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
“I do.” The deepness of my voice rumbles from me, and I feel the tendrils of my words wrap around her, claiming her as my own.
“Do you, Darya Dubrov, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do.” Her words are like a whispered promise that drifts towards me on a soft ocean breeze, taunting me with possibilities.
“I pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”
I waste no time stepping forward and wrapping my arm around her waist. Her eyes grow wide with fright as I pull her tight little body right up against mine, pressing her against me, and tilt her backwards so that I can lock my lips with hers.
For a second, I feel her resistance, but then she gives in; this is, after all, part of the tradition.
Her lips are warm and soft, and while she does not fully allow the kiss, it still sends shivers through me, like a wildfire waiting to tear away at some open field. My hand cups around her narrow waist, giving me the impression that I could just lift her in one arm and carry her away with ease.
Which is what I intend to do.
She pulls back and I release her from the kiss, but now I cannot hide the smirk on my face. My skin is heated and sharply sensitive. I want to feel her again.
We turn to walk down the aisle, hand in hand, past all of our guests. Cameras flash and people cheer, but I hardly notice. All I notice is the feel of her fingers locked with mine.
My wife.
Darya is my wife. She now belongs to me, and no one will ever be able to change that or take her away from me.
The reception is long and tedious. It feels tense whenever one of her brothers comes to talk with us. I can see they are still not very happy about all of this.
“Congratulations,” Kiril says, lifting his glass of champagne towards me.
I do the same and the edges of our glasses chime.
“Thank you,” I reply, pulling Darya up against my side. She smiles tightly, seeming disinterested in the entire event.
She has been engaging with our guests, smiling and playing the role beautifully, but now it is getting later, and I can see her becoming more and more distant.
“Will you excuse me? I just want to go freshen up.” She smiles sweetly.
I drop my arm reluctantly and smile back. “Don’t be long.”
She walks away, leaving Kiril and I standing alone.
For a moment there is just awkward silence, and then Maxim and Chiara join us, to my relief.
“Stefano, that was a beautiful wedding,” Chiara smiles, reaching up to hug me.
“Do you want a drink?” Maxim asks her. She nods and he wanders off, obviously knowing her preferences. Kiril follows after him, and Chiara tilts her head towards me with her brows knotted.
“What is really going on here, Stef?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what do you really get out of this? Darya is such an amazing girl. I just hate the thought of her getting hurt over a business deal. She doesn’t deserve that.”
“She isn’t going to get hurt.”
Chiara throws me a glare, as though she knows me better than that.
I chuckle. “Don’t give me that look. You should know me by now. I am not the guy in all those rumors. Beneath all this armor, there is a heart.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know. But seriously. If you hurt her, I will come after you myself.”
I shake my head, laughing again. I wrap my arm around my sister’s shoulder and pull her against my side, hugging her tightly. “I trust you will, little sis. I know you love me, and you’ll make sure I do the right thing.”
She playfully punches me in the ribs. “Ew. Don’t be all mushy like that,” she laughs.
Ever since our father’s death we have become so much closer. He spent years driving a wedge between us, feeding each of us thoughts about the other to keep us apart. He didn’t want us to get along because we were both easier to control if we were dependent on him and him alone for support. After realizing that, we were able to work through things together. We both suffered the same, living with that man, just in different ways.
We have been there for each other lately, and I am deeply fond of Chiara. She is my family, and I am grateful for everything she does for me.
“Seriously though, you don’t have to worry. I will take good care of her, I promise.”
“You better.” She throws me a look just as Maxim returns with her blue gin, garnished with blueberries and a mint leaf.
She grins at her husband and steps close to his side, snuggling against him.
I want Darya to do that to me.
I want her to want me like that.
Where is she? What is taking so long?
I glance around the room searching for my bride.
When I spot her standing with a friend of hers, laughing at smiling, I feel a tinge of jealousy.
I need to get her out of here. We have spent enough time making a public display of this wedding, and I want to get her home now before she changes her mind and leaves to go back to her old home. She belongs with me now. She needs to come home with me.
The longer we stay at this reception, the colder she seems to grow towards me.
It is exhausting, though, all of this smiling and talking and socializing.
All I actually want to do is carry her into my bedroom and rip that dress off her body and make this official.
I want to claim her in the final way.
I nod a quick goodbye to Maxim and Chiara, who seem too lost in each other to notice either way, and then I move with determination towards Darya.
“My beautiful wife.” I smile broadly as I step close to her and wrap my arm around her again. “Come with me.” I command, and then pull her along with me before she has a chance to protest.
We move through the crowd together, her hand locked in mine as I pull her to follow me.
I walk straight past everyone, towards the doors, out into the garden, to the parking lot.
“Stefano, what is going on? I didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”
“It’s not like you aren’t going to see them again,” I smile, opening the door for her.
She is about to protest again when I gently push her into the passenger seat and lift her dress's train into the car. She is fussing over the soft layers of fabric around her legs and feet, trying to organize it. “We had a driver booked to drive us later—"
“That’s alright. I am happy to drive us now instead.” I close the car door then move quickly over to my side.
When I slide into the driver’s seat, she is throwing me an angry glare.
I ignore it and fire the engine, pulling out quickly before anything happens to delay us.
She continues to glare at me, but then once we are out on the main road she gives up and sighs heavily, turning to look out the window.
I resist the urge to reach out and run my hand over her leg.
I just want to touch her, claim her, hold her, feel her.
I want to taste her.