Zara
“You’re funny,” I say, ignoring the nagging feeling that he doesn’t seem like the joking type.
“Without even trying,” he says, his voice lacking sincerity.
I wonder about him yet again. Since the first time I saw him, he avoided me as if I were a hazard, I’ve needed to uncover the mystery. My heart pushed me in his direction while my brain blasted alarm bells. It only took me about three years.
In his bed, I am plastered to his naked chest, which ripples with vigor, a smirk dancing on his alluring face, warning me I am in trouble.
Whenever I wasn’t busy making gun deals, grieving my love, and trying to remember, I gathered information about him.
Twenty-eight, Vian Giancana is the Chicago Mafia boss and a reputable businessman who leads a mergers-and-acquisitions enterprise, amassing an enviable fortune. What drives him? Greed? Power? A bit of both, surely.
Eyes locked, silence envelops us, but for the first time, it’s not pressing down on me. It’s comfortable, which is truly disconcerting between strangers. Then I remember what he did. Instantly, anger coils around my limbs, and I would like nothing more than to end him.
He’s entirely too arrogant and cunning, and I stagger to my feet, glaring at him. I am unsure what pisses me off most: that he took his sweet time, slowly driving me insane; that he so easily took over my compound; or that he drugged me.
The list of his transgressions is so long, it makes me question who I am dealing with. Ignoring that, a reckless part of me enjoys this.
He stands, unfolding his exquisite physique, carved in planes of muscle that make me salivate, wanting to touch and explore every inch with my tongue, lips, and fingers. The need overpowers me, taking everything in me to stay put.
Damn, Zara, stop ogling him.
“We’ll marry today,” he says matter-of-factly, ripping me from my thoughts.
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded.
I can easily read people, particularly men; however, his poker face remains strong. Just like his bedroom. The dark colors reveal nothing personal about him. The high-end furnishings and king-sized bed indicate an interior designer who spared no cost, but the room lacks a homey feeling.
He walks away, unconcerned, while I am one second away from throttling him. I am the one who gives orders and decides, yet he does it for me with such nonchalance that it maddens me.
Who the hell does he think he is?
“No,” I say, sounding like a petulant child.
“I didn’t stutter, Zara.”
I march over, blocking his way even if, physically, I pose no real threat. I crane my neck to look at his face. He’s an impressive masterpiece defined by the sharp elegance of a predator, sinuous valleys of muscle, and a chiseled face made to tempt.
“We aren’t even married yet and you’re itching for a fight?” he asks, arching a brow.
“I will not marry you. Not today.”
“It’s as good a day as any.” He shrugs, not understanding what this day means to me.
It’s the day I had the accident. It took me months to piece some of the puzzle together. Someone erased all evidence, everything about what happened. There’s someone out there who knows the truth, and I won’t rest until I find that person. Why hide my damn right to know?
Not entertaining this ludicrous notion, I say, “I don’t have a dress.”
“I needed the month to prepare the wedding,” he smirks, disarming me.
I follow him inside his neatly organized and spacious walk-in closet. “It’s oddly romantic, but presumptuous to think I will like it.”
He shakes his head at me, leaving me once again to question this strange feeling that there’s more. “You have so little faith in me.”
I jerk my chin at him, wishing to find out how much he knows about me. “What about my family?”
“You don’t have any.”
He grabs some trousers and a shirt, and I watch enraptured as he buttons it, leaving the top one undone. Damn, even that is sexy, sending a heat wave through my body as I imagine his skilled hands on me.
“I will keep my maiden name.”
He gives me a strained nod and shoves his hands into his pockets, but not before I notice him clenching them into fists. Silent tension emanates from him, causing me to suck in a breath.
“Let me give you a tour of your new home,” he says, voice clipped.
Walking down the curved hardwood staircase, I spot a modern circular light hanging from the ceiling.
Spanning two floors, the penthouse includes four bedrooms, five bathrooms, a game room, a home office, a gym with a sauna, and a shiny steel kitchen with a marble island in the middle.
An ample terrace with a pool and two lounge areas invites relaxing nights and lazy days.
The entire space is impressive, and I could easily get lost.
The living room boasts a theater, a seating area by the window, a shiny bar in the corner, and a dining room surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a spectacular view of the city.
I hear a woman’s voice down the hall. My heart clenches, thinking there’s someone else, and she came to stop the wedding.
Nerves gnaw at my insides, puncturing holes in my composure.
I remain frozen in place in the middle of the living room, not understanding this visceral fear.
Why would it even matter? Good riddance, but I might kill him for putting me in such a disrespectful position.
He must read the panic draining me, and he rushes to say, “My cousin, Noemi, is here.”
The relief is so potent, it unbalances me. Nothing new with him. I should leave, but something tells me it’s too late now.
On unsteady legs, I turn around. She blinks at me, opening and closing her mouth, but no words come out. I don’t know what I expected, but she appears to be pure sunshine with her warm blue eyes and wavy long pastel pink hair, so different from her cousin.
Vian glares at her. “Haven’t heard of announcing yourself first?”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Hi,” she says in a soft voice.
“Hi, I’m Zara.”
She sways toward me, hugging me tightly. “We’re going to be best friends. I just know it.”
Her enthusiasm is palpable, and I have no idea how to react, so I offer a noncommittal sound.
“Let’s get ready. Can’t wait,” she says, clasping her hands together.
Without waiting for a response, she grabs my hand and ushers me out.
I glance at him over my shoulder, and his brows knot together, making me believe he doesn’t like being separated from me.
This is such a strange situation, leaving me utterly confused as we hop in the elevator.
She chats the entire way down to the floor below.
“This is my place,” she says as we enter her apartment, vibrant as her personality. Patterns of colors and soft fabrics create a warm and inviting atmosphere.
In the living room, a woman stands next to a rack of white dresses.
Any moment now, I will wake up. This can’t be happening. It’s absurd. Something my brain concocted to mess with me. My life is a string of strange things.
After brief introductions, the seller asks me, “Do you have any vision for your wedding dress?”
I shake my head. Marriage wasn’t something I considered until lately.
The dresses pull me in, and I brush my finger along the delicate white fabrics until it stops at a simple silk one.
She notices and says, “Let’s try it on.”
I nod, and as she helps me in, it fits my body perfectly.
“Vian had them specially made for you,” Noemi says dreamily.
Looking at the wedding creations that probably cost a small fortune, I remain speechless.
The dress hugs my curves perfectly, flowing down in sheer elegance with a halter neck and an open back.
I don’t need to try the others to realize this is my wedding dress. “This is it.”
Noemi glances at the other dresses, pouting, but smiles at me. “You look amazing. Vian will love it.”
I wonder how he knew how to pick the one I would love most. Strange.
After that, it’s a parade of people swarming in to primp me while I go along, still undecided if this is fantasy or reality.
Needing a moment, I lock myself in the bathroom and stare at my reflection. The beauty team did an amazing job with my hair and makeup, keeping it simple but stylish. I look like a bride. I am a bride.
A knock yanks me from my thoughts, and Conrad’s voice echoes through. “Are you okay?”
Am I?
I unlock the door, and he enters, his warm eyes settling on me with unmistakable care. He’s the only family I have, not by blood but by choice, and the bond is equally strong.
“You look incredible.”
“Am I making a mistake?” I ask, panic flooding me. This wedding is happening too fast. My life veers toward an unexpected lane, leaving me helpless to navigate before crashing.
“I think you’re a good match.”
I sigh, not understanding what this means, but maybe it’s like your loved ones knowing better what’s best for you.
Marriages of convenience have happened since the beginning of humanity.
With no expectations, I don’t see how ours could go wrong.
There are no feelings involved, only a realistic plan to join our empires and become even more powerful.
With our busy schedules, it will minimize the chances of intimacy. The less we see each other, the better.
Vian will discover soon enough that his orders don’t extend to me.
Inhaling a deep breath to fortify myself, I walk out.
His cousin appears by my side holding a bouquet of white roses, simple yet fitting. To me, they are regal flowers––my favorite.
I smile, appreciating his attention to detail. I take it from her hand, lacing my arm around Conrad’s as we head back to the penthouse.
We exit onto the terrace, freshly decorated for a wedding.
A white runner leads to the altar where an officiant waits for us.
Vian stands in the middle of the archway of white roses, his face a painting of serenity, looking at me with eyes shining as if he’s waited his entire life for me.
Emotions tug at my heartstrings, urging me to him.
It’s just us four, a photographer, a string quartet, and the officiant—intimate like I wished.