Chapter 25
Elena
“Do you have a style in mind for your dress?” Skye asks as I peruse her latest bridal collection in awe.
The designs are all stunning, and one of a kind, but they must vary in price by the materials used and how detailed they are.
Frankly I feel awful purchasing one of these works of art when I have no plans to attend my own wedding.
The dress will be wasted. Maybe agreeing to this was a mistake.
I know I told Ravenna that I’d figure this out on my own, but right now the entire situation with Maximo seems too real. Too complicated. I’m relying on Mrs. Rizzo to get me out of this, but what if she falls through? I don’t have a backup plan. And at this point, she’s cutting it close.
“Miss Pontrelli?” Skye approaches me to get my attention.
“I’m sorry, what was the question?”
She gives me a polite smile. “Do you have a wishlist for your dress? What’s your favorite style?”
Style? How about costs? Though I suppose that topic doesn’t matter since I wouldn’t be here if I had a limited budget.
Once again, I’m reminded that I don’t have access to my own money because Maximo took it away. He’s paying for this, he’s paying for everything.
With a forced grin, I tell her, “Never mind the style, I’ll take the most expensive one you have. My… fiancé’s paying and he told me to get the best of everything.”
She studies me with a curious look before grabbing a dress from the rack. “This is my most expensive one in this collection, but that doesn’t mean it’s the best one for you.”
The gown is pretty, but not to my taste at all. Way too much tulle.
Skye looks me up and down. “However, given your coloring and build, I think this is your true match.”
The dress she pulls for me is absolutely stunning in a soft off-white to compliment my warm complexion. Fine pearls and lace detailing decorate the neckline, sleeves, and the waist. The cut would make my curves look fantastic.
“Why don’t you try it on?” she urges.
Before I can stop myself, I’m nodding as I follow her to the fitting room.
Her workplace and retail store is in an adorable old building, open by appointment only. It’s just the two of us here today.
Sophia and Gin would have come with me, but I didn’t invite them or anyone else. I don’t need any witnesses, and at times I’m afraid I might slip up and they’ll know I’ve been coerced into this engagement. I don’t want their pity, or their help. This situation I need to navigate on my own.
She helps me into the gown. As soon as the smooth silk glides across my skin, I feel like I’m in heaven. Then I turn to look at myself in the mirror.
Oh. My. God. This dress is a dream.
It hugs my curves, then opens into a full skirt. The color makes my skin glow and my hair shine. I look like a princess—no, a queen. A regal bride.
At that moment I change my mind about a few things. I want this dress, I want to be married in it, but I don’t want my groom-to-be. Why can’t Maximo be someone other than himself? He’s ruining my entire wedding fantasy.
“What do you think of it?”
A grin touches my lips. I like the fact that Skye isn’t showering me in praise to try to get me to buy the dress. She honestly seems to want to know my opinion. This is about me, not about her making a sale.
“I love it,” I breathe out the words.
Her face lights up. “I thought you might. I love it for you. You’re radiant.”
“This is the one. I’ll take it. I’d like a veil, shoes, and all the works. I trust your judgement, what do you recommend for accessories?”
“I’m so happy when one of my designs finds its perfect match.
Just so you know, this wedding gown is one of a kind, no one will ever wear this exact same dress.
It’s unique and special to you. The fit is even great, almost perfect.
I’ll make a couple of small adjustments the week before the wedding. As for accessories…”
We spend the next two hours going over different options until my bridal ensemble’s complete. I charge the entire purchase to Maximo’s black card along with a generous tip for Skye.
Riding the elevator up to the penthouse, it opens into the foyer. As soon as I step through to the main room, my gaze catches on glistening, wet, bare flesh. He’s standing in front of the refrigerator, back on full display with a towel wrapped low on his hips.
I’ve never seen this much of Maximo’s skin, and the sight’s alluring. Damn near pornographic. He’s covered in ink. Even though there are many interesting designs to look at, my attention’s drawn to the portrait of a woman on his shoulder.
Jealousy tightens my throat. Who is she? She must be dear to him. Is it an ex-girlfriend? If so, why hasn’t he had her face removed?
Without meaning to, I step closer for a better look.
“Given the bank notification that came through on my phone, I assume you found a dress.” He grabs a bottle of water and closes the refrigerator door.
But I barely pay attention to his words, because… “Is that me?” I point to his shoulder.
He glances down even though he can only see a portion of the tattooed image. Avoiding my gaze he takes a swig of water before answering in a resolute tone. “Yes.”
That single statement has me reeling. “Why?” I croak.
Why on earth would he have my image permanently inked into his skin? That’s just… insanity. But there’s no mistaking the portrait for anyone else.
Leaning back against the counter, his tattooed, muscular chest a sinful sight, he smirks. His sea-green eyes light with desire.“You know why, cara mia.”
My jaw falls open. Do I? No, I don’t.
I don’t understand what he’s talking about, or why he’d do such a thing. All I know is I need to get as far away from this nearly naked, extremely dangerous man as quickly as possible. If I stand here any longer, I’m going to be tempted to lick the shower water from his sinful chest. Or worse.
Cheeks burning, I practically sprint to my bedroom.
Maximo chuckles, and calls out after me. “Running away doesn’t change anything.”
I close the door behind me with a heavy sigh. Nothing seems to rattle him. I can destroy his precious belongings, spend an obscene amount of his money in a single outing, and all he does is smirk.
He has my face tattooed on his flesh. By the looks of it, that tattoo isn’t new. When did he decide to permanently mark himself with my likeness?
More importantly, how long has he been planning to trap me into marrying him? Months? Years?
He’s obviously obsessed, and deranged. Which makes no sense whatsoever. He can have any woman he wants—except me. Is it the fact that I don’t want him that makes him so set on having me? Am I that tempting, forbidden fruit that once he has a taste he’ll be done with and move on to the next thing?
If we were to marry, would it only be a matter of time before he abandons me and moves on to greener pastures?
If that’s his intention then why tattoo an image of me on his body?
Maybe he really is as obsessed with me as he claims. I mean, there were moments of sexual tension between us in Italy, but they were few and far between.
I have a sneaking suspicion he saw a lot more of me than I ever did of him.
Did he stalk me while I was under his protection?