Chapter 24 Sierra #2
“Bestie!” Her voice is too loud, the way it always is when she’s excited. “What’s happening in Sin City?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Apparently less than whatever you have planned. It’s barely eleven here.”
She laughs, that big, unself-conscious sound I’ve missed so much. “Carl can wait until I’m ready. You know how he is.”
I do know. That man would wait a lifetime for her. They’re disgustingly in love.
“So.” She wraps another strand of dark hair around the iron. “How’s the wedding planning coming?”
Annika is the only person outside Matteo’s world who knows the truth. I couldn’t lie to her. Not about something this big. She tried to talk me out of it, of course. Told me I was being insane. That marriages of convenience belonged in historical romance novels, not real life.
But she also accepted my choice when I wouldn’t budge. That’s what best friends do.
“It’s... going well,” I say slowly. “Fast. Everything is happening so fast.”
“Are you doing the flowers yourself?”
She’s trying to keep it light. I love her for it.
“Hydrangeas, probably. I’m still deciding.”
“Beautiful.” She pauses her styling, eyes narrowing at the camera. “Something’s off with you. Your voice is doing that thing.”
Damn her. Damn best friends who can read you from nine thousand miles away.
I take a breath. “We…slept together.”
The curling iron hovers mid-air. “Come again?”
“Matteo. We—” I gesture vaguely. “Multiple times.”
“Sierra.”
“But the marriage will still be fake,” I add quickly. Too quickly. My fingers twist the pillow thread tight enough to hurt.
Annika abandons her hair entirely. “Okay. Okay, hold on.” She turns to face me fully, and I recognize that look. The one she gets when she thinks I’m about to walk into traffic. “How was it?”
I blink. “What?”
“The sex. Scale of one to ten.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “That’s your follow-up question?”
“I’m gathering data. Answer the question.”
“I don’t know. Eleven? Twelve?” My face is burning. “The kind where you forget your own name and won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”
“Jesus.” She fans herself dramatically. “Okay, that’s... that complicates things.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
“Doesn’t it?” She sets down the curling iron. “Sierra, you’re not exactly a casual sex person. Never have been.”
I don’t say anything. I can’t argue with that.
“How do you feel about him?” she asks quietly. “Not the sex. Him.”
I’ve been dodging this question, even inside my own head.
“He makes me feel safe,” I finally admit. “Like myself again. The version of me that existed before Viktor broke something.”
Annika is quiet for a moment. I watch her choosing her words.
“You felt safe with Viktor too,” she says gently. “In the beginning.”
I flinch. She sees it.
“I’m not saying they’re the same person. I’m saying you’ve known Matteo for what, a few weeks? And you’re already talking about him like he’s your home.” She pauses. “That scares me.”
The words hit somewhere tender. I pull my knees into my chest, making myself smaller.
“Come here.” Her voice is gentle now. “Come to Amsterdam, Sierra.”
I go still.
“Get away from all of this,” she continues. “Viktor, the wedding, the whole mess. You can stay with me and Carl. Figure things out without a gun to your head; without getting in deeper with a man you barely know.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You just won’t.”
She’s right. And it pisses me off a little, the way the truth always does.
“My family is here.” I’m gripping the pillow now, knuckles white. “My life is here. If I run, Viktor wins.”
“And if you stay? What happens when this fake marriage with Matteo ends, and you’re in love with him?”
In love with him.
The words hang there, too big for the screen between us.
“I’m not—” I stand up abruptly, pacing toward the window. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?”
I press my forehead against the cool glass. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Annika is quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice has lost its edge.
“Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole about this.
” A sigh. “I just... I watched what Viktor did to you. How long it took you to start trusting yourself again. And now you’re telling me you’re falling for another dangerous man, and I’m nine thousand miles away, and I can’t—” She stops.
Swallows. “I can’t protect you from here. ”
Tears prick at my eyes. This is what’s underneath her pushing. Not judgment. Fear.
“He’s not Viktor,” I say quietly.
“You thought Viktor wasn’t Viktor, too. In the beginning.”
It stings, because she’s not wrong.
I turn back to the screen. “So what do I do? Never trust anyone again? Assume every man is lying?”
“No.” She shakes her head slowly. “That’s not—” Another sigh, and I watch her wrestle with something. “What’s he actually done, Sierra? Not his words. His actions.”
I stop and really think about it.
“He taught me to shoot. Self-defense. He’s teaching me to ride a motorcycle.
” I’m ticking things off, almost to myself.
“He bought me a helmet before he’d let me near the bike.
He walks on the street side of the sidewalk.
He told me about his past, things he’s never told anyone.
He...” I trail off, remembering last night.
The way his voice cracked. The way he shuddered when I held him.
“He didn’t have to do that. He chose to. ”
Annika is quiet, watching me.
“He’s never raised his voice at me. Never made me feel stupid. Never tried to control where I go or who I talk to.” I meet her eyes through the camera. “He’s consistent, Annika. Every day, he’s the same person. Viktor was whoever he needed to be to get what he wanted.”
She absorbs this. I can see her turning it over, the worry still there but something else too. Something like reluctant hope.
“Okay,” she finally says.
“Okay?”
“Maybe he’s not a walking red flag.” A small smile tugs at her mouth. “The bar is low, but it sounds like he’s clearing it.”
A breath of relief escapes me. “So you don’t think I’m being an idiot?”
“Oh, you’re definitely being an idiot.” The smile breaks through fully now. “But maybe the acceptable kind of idiot. The kind that might actually work out.”
I laugh, and it comes out watery. “I wish you could be here. To meet him.”
“Me too. Damn work won’t let me take time off with this little notice.” She picks up her curling iron again. “But you better video me into the ceremony.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And Sierra?” Her eyes go serious one last time. “If he hurts you, I will fly to Vegas and kill him myself. Fake marriage or not.”
I believe her completely.
“I love you,” I manage around the tightness in my throat.
“I know.” She grins, and just like that, she’s my irreverent best friend again. “I love you too, you absolute disaster.”
I grin as she blows me a kiss, and then the screen goes dark.
My reflection stares back at me, rumpled hair and uncertain eyes.
Am I falling for Matteo?
The answer is already there.
Has been for a while, maybe. I’m falling for my fake fiancé. And I have no idea if he’s falling too.