7. Margot
Chapter 7
Margot
I t’s my wedding day .
I should be happy and excited for a future with my husband, but all I feel is dread that sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. The black dress I’ve chosen says it all—this isn’t a celebration. It’s a funeral of my freedom. A light drizzle taps a steady beat against the stained-glass windows as if the sky itself mourns for me.
We’ve been at the church since eight this morning and only now am I finally alone. I’ve had to put on a show, smiling and gushing to everyone that wished me well.
If only they knew .
The lead up to today has shown me just how good of an actress I am. It seems Josephine passed something on to me, aside from her looks. I’ve been paraded around town like a prize pig, meeting people who never would have known I existed had I not been exchanged for Alvin’s debt.
Moving to stand in front of the full length, gold-framed mirror, I take in my reflection and the haunted woman staring back at me. I always thought I’d get married in a white dress; something timeless and representative of the romantic air that a wedding day should be filled with. But the one I’ve chosen for today—a day of mourning—is more fitting.
With a daring halter neckline that wraps around my neck and leaves my shoulders and collarbone bare, it does exactly what I need it to do—showcase my spirit and rebellion to this marriage. My favorite part about it—and the part that I’m hoping will piss my soon-to-be-husband off—is the deep V-cut that plunges down the center of my chest from the base of my throat to the waistband of the skirt.
Josephine will have a conniption over the ‘disrespect’ of my dress choice. But I couldn't care less. After our run-in at the bridal store, I told her I didn’t want her help with picking out a dress or any input from her with the wedding. She protested, but it wasn’t exactly heartfelt because deep down, she only wants one thing: for me to go through with this marriage and save Alvin’s sorry ass.
This entire situation is a farce .
And yet, it’s my reality. The thought sends a tremor racing through my body. I swallow hard, thinking of Ethan and the future we’ve lost. I don’t want to do this, but what’s the alternative? I run away and Massimo finds me anyway? Yeah, and then he kills me, as well as Alvin. I might not like Alvin, but I’m not going to be the reason he’s dead, because I know the threats Massimo has made aren’t threats at all but guarantees.
I hate that I’ve been put in this situation, that I mean so little to Josephine that she’s gone along with Alvin’s plan. But most of all, I hate that I agreed to this.
Maybe, if I just do what Massimo asks of me, he’ll grant me a divorce in a year or two and I can take back my life.
A laugh bubbles up, spilling from my lips and filling the room. There will be nothing for me once Massimo has put his ring on my finger. That much I know. I’ll be stuck living a life that brings me no joy, with a man I have no hope of loving. And given his ruthless reputation, it’s very possible that Massimo will force himself upon me. The thought has a knot of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.
Staring at the ceiling, I blink to ease the burning in the back of my eyes. I inhale through my nose, my senses assaulted by the slightly musky scent of the room. It’s heavy and a reminder of where I am and all that is yet to come.
A hint of my strawberry shampoo clashes with the smell, reinforcing just how out of place I am in this church. I’m not a religious person and the fact that I’m going to recite vows that I don’t mean, in the house of God, makes me feel like a fraud. This wouldn’t have been my choice of location. Nothing about this wedding—aside from my dress—has been my choice.
On an exhale, I roll back my shoulders and meet my gaze in the mirror. If this is going to be forced upon me, I’m going to make Massimo regret it. When I’m done with him, he’ll regret ever thinking he could control me.
Even as the thought takes root, a sliver of doubt creeps in. What if I can’t? What if his will to control me is stronger than my will to fight back? No . I refuse to think that will ever happen.
I don’t think, I just act, diving my hands into my hair and pulling the pins holding it up out. The pain as strands are pulled from the roots doesn’t faze me. It spurs me on, and I revel in the feeling.
My hair falls in disarray down my shoulders and I swipe up a hairbrush left behind by the hairstylist. Dragging it through my hair, I grit my teeth as it passes over each knot.
An idea quickly forms in my mind and I throw the hairbrush onto the table, my eyes scanning the contents. Triumphantly, I snatch up a tub of gel, unscrewing the cap and digging in three fingers. I hesitate for half a second, staring at my reflection before releasing a heavy exhale. There’s no going back once I do this .
With a smile on my face, I lift my hand and smooth the gel through my hair until it’s pushed back from my face, leaving me with a sleek yet wild look that screams defiance. It’s perfect for a bride in black and makes my normally vibrant copper hair dark, like the color of dried blood.
For the first time since I was told of my fate, I feel alive. An energy thrums through me, part nerves, part excitement for the reaction I know Massimo will have. From the moment I met him, there was an air of control to him, like every aspect of his life is perfect and falls into place.
Well, not anymore .
Today, I vow to flip Massimo Marino’s life upside down. After all, I have nothing to lose, and maybe if I push him far enough, he’ll set me free. Or kill me . I suck in a shaky breath at the thought before forcing it from my mind.
Turning away from my reflection, I search the table littered with makeup products. My subtle makeup won’t do . I need to make a statement with war paint because you should never go to battle ill-prepared.
Using a kohl eyeliner, I draw on a winged line before moving to my lower waterline and filling it in. When I’m satisfied, I throw the pencil on the table before searching for a lipstick that will do the dramatic eye makeup justice.
I can barely contain the grin that splits across my face when I uncap a black lipstick. What are the chances that a bridal makeup artist would have this? It must be my lucky day. I scoff before wiping it with my finger and dabbing it onto my lips. Using a clean finger to clean up the edges, I step back, admiring my reflection.
Perfect .
I feel elegant and sophisticated, but most importantly, I feel ready for the war that is yet to come.
A knock on the door pulls my attention from the woman in the mirror. I press my palm to my chest in an effort to ease the fluttering of nerves.
“It’s time, Margot,” Valentina, the wedding coordinator calls, her voice muffled as it travels through the heavy oak between us.
“Give them hell,” I tell my reflection before picking up my flowers and marching toward the door. I hesitate for a second, my hand wrapped around the perfectly arranged bouquet of white roses. There’s no going back, no escaping. Once I open this door, I’ll be trapped in a circumstance I have no say in.
Blinking back my tears of anger, I inhale sharply, before pulling the door open. My lips twitch in amusement at the panic flaring in Alvin’s eyes at the sight of me. Good . It’s because of him that I’m in this mess. Valentina is quicker to cover her surprise. Instead, she clears her throat, waving her arm for me to go ahead.
I stride past them both, my head held high as I walk down the hallway to the narthex. Every step I take exposes my left leg through the thigh-high slit of the dress. There’s something sinful about it. The sound of my heels on the tiled flooring echoes around the space and mixes with the soft swoosh of material as I move.
Behind me, Alvin follows the train of my dress, his movements hurried but hesitant. Josephine was insistent on me letting him walk me down the aisle. I agreed to save myself the argument, but I have no intention of letting that coward of a man give me away when he’s the reason I’m in this situation.
When I reach the double doors that lead into the chapel, I come to a stop, urging the storm swirling inside of me to calm, at least for a moment. Alvin comes to a stop beside me, holding his arm out in preparation. I stare down at it, not bothering to hold back the curling of my lip.
Ignoring him, I push through the doors.
All eyes turn to me and I lift my chin high as I start my descent into hell. Alvin trails behind me like a bad smell that won’t go away. I keep my gaze on my best friends, Cece and Reagan, as they stand at the front of the church. They’re my allies in this, even if I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell them the full story.
After half a beat, the wedding march begins, but I don’t keep its pace as I march down the aisle. The chapel feels suffocating, with every eye in the room burning into me, their muttered words indistinct. I feel their stares on my skin, as intimate as a caress—curious, pitying, mocking. They don’t know that this story doesn't end happily, but I can see the questions in their eyes. Their curiosity etched into their expressions as they wonder where I came from and how I’ve managed to find myself marrying a man like Massimo.
I’m no more than a quarter of the way toward the altar when, as if drawn on instinct, my gaze lands on Ethan. The sight of him, his face etched with sorrow, hits me like a punch to the gut.
The dull ache in my chest sharpens, stealing my breath and threatening to unravel me. For a moment, I forget where I am, consumed by the loss of him. The emotion that I’ve become so familiar with in the loneliness of night, wraps around my throat like a hand, choking me.
I drag my focus away, desperate to not show the imposing man that will soon be my husband any sign of weakness. When my gaze lands on Massimo, his eyes sweep over me, his jaw tightening before his gaze returns to my face. Something flashes in the depths—maybe amusement or annoyance—before a shutter comes down and his expression hardens.
I just want today to be over with.
* * *
“You may now kiss the bride.”
That’s it. I’m married . My eyes seek out Ethan, my anchor in the stormy sea that is now my life. I want to plead with him to forgive me, but it would be no use. His heartache mirrors my own, and I know no amount of begging or apologies will ever make this okay.
A hand snakes around my neck and my chin is turned back to Massimo. He’s closer than I remember and there’s a devilish darkness in his gaze that I can see projecting from his soul. Slowly, his mouth descends on mine at the same time as his hand tightens a fraction on my neck as he pulls me closer.
I don’t have time to move or push him away and I don’t fight him like I should. I’m too caught off guard at the fact that Massimo would do anything so intimate as kiss his wife to do anything.
The first brush of his lips over mine is strangely soft and testing. But then he captures my lips again, his kiss both commanding and far more possessive of me than he has any right to be. I feel like I’m drowning, with no hope of reaching the surface.
When he opens his mouth, mine follows suit and he takes the opportunity to dip his tongue between my lips. He tastes like toothpaste and something else that makes my body react in a wanton way.
I’ve never been kissed like this before .
There’s an animalistic quality to it and, for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to experience Massimo in all of his glory.
He’s intoxicating and although my body wants to sink into him, my head wins out. I fist my hands by my side as I come to my senses, disgusted with myself for entertaining the idea of wanting this monster. Especially when the man I love is feet away from me.
Massimo breaks the kiss, stepping back with a smug smirk on his face as he wipes away the remnants of my lipstick. He takes my hand before turning and stalking down the aisle, uncaring that I’m wearing five-inch heels and unprepared for how fast he’s moving.
When we step out of the church, a barrage of paparazzi is waiting for us. Flashes from their cameras blind me and I hold up a hand to protect my eyes. Massimo drags me across the sidewalk to the waiting car, opening the door before maneuvering me between him and the vehicle. Without question, I slide in, breathing a sigh of relief when he closes the door and the indecipherable questions become muted.
The quiet is interrupted for a moment when Massimo climbs in beside me from the other side. He slams his door closed and instructs, “Back to the house, Renato.”
The car moves forward at an agonizingly slow pace but as the church disappears from view, Massimo says, “That little display in the chapel, with the loving looks between you and your ex , was cute. But I hope you understand that will be the last time you see each other.”
Running my tongue over my teeth, I bite back, “We’ll see about that. Last I checked, you weren’t my keeper and I’m not your prisoner.”
Massimo removes his wedding ring, holding it between us as a strobe of light beams through the front windshield, reflecting off of the metal. “This makes you mine, Margot. And the promise I made to you the day we met still stands: I will not hesitate to kill him.”
I roll my eyes and sigh as I stare at the passing landscape, ignoring the worry that gnaws in my gut. This is my life now—entirely out of my hands and with a man that I’m not sure is capable of feeling anything . I watch in the reflection of the glass as Massimo slips his wedding band into his pocket, vowing to myself that I won’t let him take any more from me than he already has.