Chapter 9
The girl in the mirror is glowing. She looks happy, even when she bites her lip. I’m back in a wedding dress—a different one from yesterday. The last one survived kidnapping and an escape from a gas explosion, but not Royal’s passion. In his haste to undress me, not even the veil remained unripped.
“Yoohoo, Leah?” Lula sticks her head into the dressing room. “You ready to get married? I’m supposed to take you to the wedding. Royal has a last minute meeting with the family.”
“Oh.” A meeting with the family? I'm not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.
“How are you doing?” Lula saunters in, looking fabulous in her bridesmaid dress.
“I’m good.” I finger the lace of the new wedding dress. An Alonuko original. I have no idea how Royal got it custom made overnight.
“You sure? No lingering effects from yesterday?”
I flush. I am a little sore, but not from being held hostage. Royal was pretty eager to show me how glad he was that I was back safe and sound. And I was just as eager to reciprocate.
But I woke up alone. Royal left a note and a chocolate muffin, but I’d have preferred him.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Lula says with a grin.
“You might be interested to know, I just came from the hospital. Royal’s father and the rest of them need counsel.
” I stiffen, but Lula doesn’t notice. She tosses her dark hair over shoulder.
“I'm arranging plea bargains for all of them. The firemen and cops didn’t like all the drugs they found. They’re going to jail for a long time. ”
I bite my lip. This is good news, but will Royal be happy that I got his dad in trouble?
“We don't even have to bring kidnapping charges unless you really want to,” Lula adds gently. “I figured you might want to stay out of it.”
“I do,” I say quickly.
“Then that’s settled. I have to say it's my first time dealing with a situation like this. Typically, when I do hospital visits, my client has been shot, not taken out by a cupcake. But one of the guys is in critical condition. The rest are severely dehydrated.”
“They ate a lot of cupcakes.”
“Yeah they told me that.” She snickers. “I had to fight to keep a straight face. I can’t believe your plan worked.”
I shrug. “No one suspected a thing. Pink cupcakes are the most innocuous thing on earth.”
Lula shakes her head. “I told Royal he’d better watch himself with you.”
“I only make laxative cupcakes in extreme situations.”
“Good to know. But it might be a while before I eat anything else you bake.”
“That’s fair.”
We share a grin.
“Seriously, Leah, you did good. A whole embarrassing branch of our family was taken out in one go. The three other crime families in Metropolis are watching. We needed a show of strength if we're going to take a seat at the table.”
Lula moves to the mirror and straightens her dress, unaware that she’s making my head spin.
“Royal’s father was the weakest link, but now Royal has proven that he can clean house.
And he did it without having to kill his father.
What did I tell you?” Lula holds up her manicured fingers.
“Royal needed a bride. He needed a reason to get rid of his father. And he wanted you. I told you.” She taps her temple.
“Royal has a brain like an engineer. He's always tinkering. Always fixing things in his head. His mind works like a clock.”
“Right.” I blow out a shaky breath.
“All right, let’s head out.” Lula grabs her Chanel purse and fishes for her keys. “I’m supposed to drive you to the church. Unless you want to blow off my cousin and head to Atlantic City?” Her tone is joking, but there’s a serious assessment in her dark eyes.
“No.” I smooth my hands down the bodice.
Lula’s dark eyes search my face. “I’m serious, Leah. You don’t have to marry him, if you don’t want to. “
“I do want to.” I might not be totally okay with everything in his world, but I want Royal. “But on the way to the church… is it okay if we make one stop?”
The bakery is a bright spot in the dark strip mall. Someone’s replaced the old door and added a fresh coat of paint. The overhead sign is new and bigger, with pink lettering like I always wanted.
“You’ll be okay?” Lula calls from her black Beemer. I nod and pick up my skirts, trudging to the new front door. Once inside, I drop my train, unsure of what to do. The place smells like spices—red beans and rice, goat curry. Mrs. Rossi is cooking again.
“Leah!” Mr. Rossi bursts from the back, Mrs. Rossi right behind him. They sandwich me, taking turns giving me hugs. “Look at you!”
“Bellissima!”
“Ms. Rossi,” I choke out. “You look great.”
“The infusions are helping.” She pats my cheek. Her hand is soft, her dark skin glowing. “Your man is a prince.”
My throat closes. “Yes, he is.”
“And now you are to be married. You make a beautiful bride.”
“Thank you.” I finger my veil. “Will you walk me down the aisle? Both of you?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Rossi is so overcome, she puts a hand to her mouth.
Mr. Rossi puts a gentle arm around her. “We wouldn’t miss it, Mia figlia.” My daughter. “We are headed to the church soon. We just put the finishing touches on the cake.”
“You made my cake?”
He beckons, and I follow the Rossis to the back. The cake is a tower of white, tall enough to touch the heavens.
In the front room, the bell over the door jingles madly.
“That door should be closed.” Mr. Rossi frowns.
I know who’s just walked in before his velvety deep voice washes over me. “Mr. Rossi. Mrs. Rossi.”
Firm hands grasp my hips.
Royal’s found me. Of course he has.
“Call me Cedella.” Mrs. Rossi beams.
“Come, my bride.” Mr. Rossi puts his arm around his wife and starts steering her away. “We need to get to the church.”
“We’re right behind you,” Royal mutters into my veil. He holds me still until the shop door jingles closed. The Rossis are gone. It’s just me and Royal now.
“You came,” I say before I turn. He doesn’t let me out of his grasp, but lets me face him. Good thing he hangs on because as soon as my eyes hit his, my knees wobble.
“You ran,” he counters. His eyes are dark coffee, his beautiful face stern, but his expression softens when he sees my face.
He picks me up, poofy satin dress and all, and carries me out to the baking cases.
He sets me on the counter next to the espresso machine that started this all.
My skirts overflow, but he crushes them down, planting his arms on either side of me and fixing me with a dark stare. “Leah.”
“Royal,” I say warily.
He tilts his head. “You wanted a coffee before we tie the knot?”
“I needed a moment,” I whisper. My vision blurs and I blink a few times. “You fixed the shop. You fixed everything.”
He runs a finger over my quivering lip. “Yes. I’d do anything for you.”
“Your dad said the family won’t like you taking me as a bride.”
He shakes his head. “I just met with them. They can’t wait to meet you. They approve of you.”
“I am pretty badass.” My voice wobbles, but the pride on Royal’s face steadies me.
Maybe I can do this. Royal hinted at a honeymoon in the Old Country. I do want to meet Royal’s aunt. I hope she’ll approve of me. Maybe a tin of cookies is all I’ll need to buy her love. I’ll let Royal make the espresso.
My reflection in the espresso maker shows a bride. She looks calm, but inside, she’s quivering.
Maybe that’s okay.
“Talk to me, Leah.” Royal smooths back my veil.
“You hired the Rossis to make the cake.”
His glossy hair falls in his face as he shakes his head. “They wouldn’t take payment. Wedding gift.”
I stroke his hair out of his face.
“Mr. Rossi wanted to bake in his kitchen one last time.”
My blood ices over. “What?” I whisper. Did they have to sell? Is that how they paid for the treatment? But I thought Cedella said Royal paid for it.
“They sold the business. With Cedella’s health back, they want to travel more. Retire to Jamaica.”
“They found a buyer.”
“You could say I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“You?”
“This place. It’s yours now. Consider it a Valentine’s Day gift.”
I tilt my eyes up so I don’t cry. Once the tears slide back down, I say, “You’re so sweet. I didn’t get you anything.”
“You’re giving me everything. The only gift I want is this.” He palms my pussy over the dress. “You're gonna come willingly to the church, or do I have to tie you up and carry you?”
I giggle. “I’ll come.”
“Good. Because if I had to throw you over my shoulder, first you’d be going over my knee.”
A tingle runs through me. But I bite my lip.
“What are you thinking, principessa?”
“Are you mad about what I did to your father?”
“My father threw me away like trash because I wasn’t the son he wanted.”
“I hate him,” I say with a vehemence that surprises me.
Royal doesn’t seem surprised. He looks pleased. “There's some darkness in you, little one. Maybe that's why we fit so well. The bitter and the sweet.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. The ring sparkles between us.
“You know,” I say. “You never asked me to marry you.”
“Do you want me to ask?” He leans forward, crushing my skirts. His lips find my ear. “Do you want me to convince you, cara? Because I can be very persuasive.”
“No, no,” I say, but he’s tossing up the hem of my dress. I rock back on the counter, propping myself on my elbows as he reaches under my satin skirts.
“Royal! We need to get to the church.”
“Un momento.” He squeezes my stocking-clad knee, finding the garter belt strap and snapping it. “First, I want to make you scream.”
I collapse back on the counter, knocking over a stack of paper cups. A cloud of white puffs over me—powdered sugar. When I lick my lips, they’re sweet.
Royal presses two fingers into my pussy, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit. “Come for me, cara. And while you do, say my name. Tell me who owns you.”
When I come, it’s Royal’s name on my lips.
And that’s the story of why my train left a trail of confectioner’s sugar as I walked between Mr. and Mrs. Rossi down the church aisle to become Mrs. Royal Regis.