Chapter 14
chapter fourteen
MARISOL
I smile to myself in the full-length mirror as I hold the gold mask adorned with gemstones up over my eyes. God knows I can pull off a costume any day.
I’m wearing a champagne satin dress. Swathes of chiffon sweep over my torso and cross at the waist before the fabric cascades to the floor. Teardrop gemstones hang from the delicate fabric. It looks like something made for a princess, and I’m utterly obsessed with it.
I haven’t lost my connections to everyone in the industry, and when Isla said masquerade ball, I knew exactly who to call. I was lucky the delivery arrived in time.
The dress doesn’t hug my figure as I imagined it would, as it may have a couple of years ago.
I turn in the mirror, trying to remember the way my body used to look.
The roundness in my hips that has fallen away.
I used to shamelessly check out my own ass in the reflection, but today, all I can see is my lack of shape.
It’s so confusing—the way I can look in the mirror and see a completely different version of me than what I saw even that morning, and it feels like the back and forth never ends, my mind is never quiet.
Always thinking about being slimmer, or more toned, or wishing I had more curves, whilst simultaneously thinking so much about which foods I’m eating so that I don’t gain any more numbers on the scale.
I don’t even notice I’m doing it anymore.
My mind works subconsciously while I pretend that I even like the bikini shoot that is plastered all over the internet, the one where people dissect my body in tweets and comments as if they think I don’t think about it enough.
I think about it so much, I don’t even notice when I am.
Or maybe I don’t notice when I’m not, because that doesn’t happen anymore.
A knock sounds on the door to the guest room I’ve claimed as my own, and I lower the mask, adjusting my dress as Leo slowly opens the door. I feel the hint of a grin pick at my lips as he steps into the room, his eyes roaming over me.
His eyes glitter from behind his sleek black mask, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a grin as he meets my gaze, his cheek slightly pushing on the mask.
He looks like the main character in a period piece. Black hair swept back, a cream blouse beneath his black suit jacket with ruffles exploding down his torso and out the ends of his sleeves. He looks positively romantic.
The black mask acts as a magnifying glass for me to watch his eyes as they rake down my body while he mindlessly wanders toward me. I find myself wishing I had tied my own mask on as I feel a blush bloom on my cheeks. His presence feels overwhelming.
“You look sensational.”
My gaze falls to the floor as heat rolls through my body, and a small laugh slips between my lips. Leo lands in front of me, and his index finger and thumb find my chin, delicately lifting it until I’m left looking into those blindingly blue eyes. I swallow thickly. “Thank you.”
That smirk appears once again as he cocks his head. “My pleasure.”
My tongue darts out to moisten my parched lips, and Leo’s eyes track the movement.
I stay utterly still as he reaches for my side, but then I feel my mask being pulled from my grasp. “May I?”
I nod in response, turning around until I see both of us standing in the mirror. I can’t deny how incredible we look together. The picture of a perfect couple.
Leo’s fingers brush against my skin as he sweeps my hair over my shoulder, my head tipping to the side and leaving my neck exposed to him as my bouncy curls fall down my back.
I swear I see a small smile curve his lips in the reflection, but when he meets my gaze, his expression is still.
He places the mask in front of my face, and I guide it to where it feels comfortable resting on my cheeks.
And for some reason, I hold my breath as Leo ties the silk in a bow at the crown of my head, weaving the ribbon around the small ponytail holding half of my hair up with ease.
His hands fall away from my hair, and for a split second, I hope he might trail a finger down the column of my neck, but he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. There is no one else around to witness the moment.
He steps back, holding out his arm for me to hold. “Shall we?”
I take the first proper breath in minutes and tuck my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s go.”
* * *
“Oh, cazzo,” Leo says under his breath as we pull into a park outside Hotel Dolce, and my eyes are caught on the building.
An ornate pattern lights up the exterior, with rows of colorful flowers hanging beneath each window, leaving the place looking like a more romantic and festive version of Ruby Cove’s most esteemed hotel.
“Wow,” I breathe. Out the front windshield, I can see groups of people coming and going from the grand front doors. Some people are dressed more traditionally, in bright colors and with full masks, while others wear regular fancy dress with a mask added, and everything in between.
Leo and I slowly push our doors open and step out of his car, a valet appearing to take the keys from him as I take his arm.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod. “Ready.”
We make our way up the cobblestone path, pink lights leading us to the front step, where a group of women dressed in elegant ballgowns has stopped to pose for the photographer a few feet away.
They slip through the doors as we approach, and as I move to follow them, the photographer yells out, stopping us. “Would you two like a photo?”
Leo looks down at me, uncertainty in his eyes, yet he says, “Might be a good idea.” For publicity, he means.
“Yeah.” I stumble over the single syllable. “Good point.”
He glides his hand around my waist, and I try not to think about how natural it feels to have his hand on me as I slip my fingers over his. We stay still as the photographer takes a few pictures, whether it’s because we are in character or not, I have no idea.
“Okay, now a fun one,” the photographer says as if we are at some family Christmas with the designated uncle behind his shitty phone that takes blurry pictures.
But Leo doesn’t hesitate. He hooks his spare hand under my knee and dips me down, his face coming within inches of mine as I grip onto him for dear life.
I wanted to let out a little squeal, but I gasp instead.
Leo’s gaze is appreciative as he smirks at me. “What? He said a fun one.”
I can’t respond, not when I can feel his breath on my lips, not when his nose is so close to mine that if I moved at all, they would touch. Not as I have the sudden urge to know what it feels like to kiss him.
A few more flashes appear in the dark before he pulls me back up, clarity flooding my mind as soon as I am upright again. I can’t kiss Leo. That’s not what this is.
He doesn’t take his hands from me, using them to fix my dress before he grabs my hand like it’s second nature. “Post those pictures anywhere you want,” he says to the photographer before he pulls me through the door.
“That should find its way around,” he says, reminding me of why we got our pictures taken in the first place.
“Bonjour,” a slim man dressed in a bejeweled suit with a clipboard says as we head into the lobby. “Ahhh, Leonardo,” he purrs.
“Stefan,” Leo grits out, narrowing his eyes at the name. Everyone around here knows it’s not his full name, but they taunt him with it anyway.
I pull myself away from Leo’s side, realizing I no longer need to be gripping onto his bicep—no matter how lovely it is to do so.
But as if my action reminds him of my presence, Leo pulls me back to him.
“Stefan, this is Marisol, Rafael’s sister and my…
girlfriend.” He says the word like it’s entirely foreign to him, as if he’s never introduced anyone like that before. It’s charming.
“Ah, the infamous angel I hear so much about.” Stefan looks me up and down before raising my hand to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss atop my knuckles. “As beautiful as Leonardo always mentioned,” he says, raising his brow.
“Alright.” Leo tsks, reaching to pull my hand away. “That’s enough.”
I breathe out a quiet giggle, and Stefan smirks, as if Leo responded exactly like he expected him to. “Your brother and the rest of them are in the ballroom,” he says.
“Grazie.” Leo nods. He leads me through the darkness and down a wide hallway. I’ve been to Hotel Dolce a few times, but not enough to know my way around in the dim light, so I let my hand stay firmly in Leo’s grasp, let him lead me wherever he wants to.
Noise bubbles over as he opens a large door, music pouring out as we step into the fray. The delicate melody of a string quartet floats through the room from where they sit on the stage on the far side of the room.
“They weren’t kidding about going all out,” I mutter.
Men and women dance around each other in the center of the room, skirts sweeping across the wooden dance floor. It is the picture of elegance, almost like we’ve stepped back in time. It’s beautiful.
Leo doesn’t let go of my hand as he carefully moves through the crowd, cutting sideways and making his way to the bar, as if he knows that’s where we will find our crowd.
The last time I sat at this bar, I told May about how my brother was so clearly in love with her.
She freaked out. Left her best friend’s wedding and everything.
Totally my bad there, but I honestly thought she’d noticed the way Rafael looked at her.
Besides, it all worked out okay in the end, even if Rafael resented me for spoiling his big moment.
Speaking of my brother, he sits on a bar stool, beer in hand, frown firmly in place, and I have a slight feeling it might have to do with the fact that he’s wearing a loose linen shirt, one that is unbuttoned down to just above his belly button.
The shirt is paired with plain dress pants and a white mask that has a soft orange lily painted on one side. It’s gorgeous, really.