Chapter 12 #3
But the panic still claws at my chest.
Needing something stronger, something that will drown out the noise in my head, I surge forward and deepen the kiss myself. A low sound rumbles in his chest as I press closer.
The gentle reassurance between us ignites into something hotter, more urgent. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me flush against his massive body, anchoring me against him so completely that I can feel the heavy, steady thud of his heartbeat beneath my palms.
And for the first time since the panic began, I can breathe.
Before it can go any further, the overhead lights suddenly snap back on with a loud buzz, blinding us. The elevator gives another short jolt and smoothly begins to move down the shaft again.
I blink rapidly against the sudden light, breathless and completely flushed, my hands still tangled in his hair. Alessandro breaks the kiss slowly, his dark eyes heavy with an intense, lingering lust and a fierce protectiveness as he looks down at my swollen lips.
He doesn't move away, keeping me pinned against the wall even as the elevator doors smoothly slide open to the parking garage.
We drive to the high-end shopping district in silence, the lingering heat from the elevator pressing between us.
At the luxury boutique, the process of finding a gown for tonight’s dinner is quick. Alessandro completely takes over, his eyes scanning the racks until he points out a floor-length, deep emerald silk dress.
It is incredibly modest, featuring a high neckline and long sleeves, yet tailored so perfectly that it contours every line of my body with elegance. I accept the dress without argument even though it’s too modest for my style.
As we leave the boutique, we walk past the grand display windows of an exclusive, appointment-only bridal atelier. The sight of a sweeping white gown in the window makes my footsteps falter.
"I still don't have a dress for the wedding," I murmur, staring at the silk train. "I’ll have to come back tomorrow morning with my sisters to find something."
Alessandro stops beside me, his gaze dropping to the display before cutting sharply back to me. "No. The entire point of us coming out today was wedding shopping. We're getting it now."
I frown, turning to face him. "Alessandro, you really shouldn't be there when I pick out a wedding dress. It’s bad luck. It goes entirely against tradition for the groom to see it before the ceremony."
He lets out a low, dismissive scoff. "I don't care about tradition at all, Sienna. Let's go."
Before I can protest, he grips my elbow and guides me through the arched glass doorways of the atelier. The sales assistants instantly recognize his name, bowing their heads and ushering us into a massive, opulent private viewing suite in the back.
While the stylists begin pulling options, my eyes are instantly drawn to a stunning, avant-garde gown on a mannequin in the corner.
It's a provocative masterpiece—made of sheer French lace, with a low-plunging neckline and a daring, open back that leaves very little to the imagination.
It's bold, fierce, and entirely untraditional.
Alessandro follows my gaze, his eyes narrowing as he looks at the sheer fabric. Dislike instantly hardens his features. "No," he rumbles flatly. "You're not wearing that."
He turns to the head stylist, his voice leaving no room for argument as he points to a completely different gown on the rack.
It's a heavy satin dress with a structured corset bodice, a square neckline, and a sweeping, dramatic train.
It is stunning, but very concealing, leaving everything to the imagination.
“Bring her that one."
“Alessandro…”
“That’s what you’re wearing.”
I am ushered into the large, circular changing room, the heavy velvet curtains closing me off from the world. The stylists help me step into the massive satin gown, hooking the intricate buttons up my spine before stepping out to let me view myself in the triple-mirror.
The dress is breathtaking, transforming me into a queen, but as I stare at my reflection, a wave of nostalgia hits me. I lose myself in my own head, my fingers lightly tracing the satin fabric.
Suddenly, the heavy velvet curtain rustles, and Alessandro walks straight into the private changing room.
I jolt, gripping the skirt of the dress as I look at him through the mirror. He closes the distance between us, standing directly behind me. His large hands rest on my satin-covered hips, his eyes locking onto my reflection.
"What are you thinking about, Sienna?" he asks, entirely too observant.
I look down at his hands on my hips, a bitter, honest laugh escaping my lips. "I’m thinking about how I almost wore a dress just like this once before. I almost married another man, and the wedding never happened."
The air in the room instantly turns icy. Through the reflection, I see his jaw tighten, his dark eyes darkening into a dangerous, storm-like black.
"Domenico, isn't it?" he rumbles, his voice dripping with venom.
Before I can even blink, he grips my waist and violently spins me around, pinning my back against the wall of the changing room. The heavy satin of the skirt rustles loudly between us.
He leans his massive frame into me, his chest pressing hard against mine as he stares down at me. The sheer force of his annoyance and possessiveness rolls off him in suffocating waves, his grip on my jaw tightening slightly.
But instead of shrinking back from his terrifying anger, I look straight up into his eyes.
"I cared for Domenico, Alessandro," I admit, my voice steady, surprising myself with my honesty.
"But if I'm being completely truthful...
part of me wanted that wedding to happen because I wanted to escape the life my father had chosen for me.
More than anything else, I just wanted a way out of Massimo's house. "
His suffocating hold lightens almost instantly. The murderous edge in his eyes recedes. He drops his mouth to my ear, his stubble grazing my skin as his breath scalds my neck.
“Don’t test me like that, Sienna,” he warns, his voice low. “I am not a generous man. I don’t share. What's mine is mine. Not even a dead man gets a piece of your thoughts.”
“Get off me,” I breathe, my hands pressing against his broad shoulders, though the fight has completely drained from my voice.
Instead of pushing harder, his touch turns surprisingly gentle.
His large hands slide from my jaw down to the sides of my neck, his thumbs soothing over my pulse point, catching me completely off guard.
“Don’t worry, Sienna. In two days, you’ll leave Massimo’s house for good.
He will never lay a hand on you again. I tolerate a lot of things, but I don't tolerate anyone hurting what belongs to me.”
We stare at each other in the heavy, loaded silence of the changing room.
The sheer intensity of his promise, mixed with the residual adrenaline from the elevator and the crushing weight of the satin gown, snaps the final string of my control.
Before either of us can think, our lips crash against each other in a bruising kiss.
Alessandro groans deeply, pinning me harder against the wall as he devours my mouth. He breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second, his chest heaving as he stares down at me, his eyes completely wild with an unholy lust.
“Fuck, Sienna,” he growls, his hands violently gripping my waist. “I want you so bad. You drive me fucking mad. I want to bury my cock inside you and fuck you right against this wall.”
I meet his fierce, burning gaze dead-on, my own breathing ragged as the final walls of my resistance crumble.
“Do it,” I whisper.
He blinks, momentarily stunned by my compliance.
“What’s the point?” I challenge, a breathless, defiant tilt touching my lips. “We’re getting married in two days anyway.”
He doesn’t hesitate for another second. The challenge is all the invitation he needs.