Chapter 21
T he boutique is all cream walls with plush white couches and champagne flutes waiting on silver trays. It's exactly the kind of place I would have loved before. Now it feels like walking into my own funeral.
"Miss Feretti, what an honor!" A tall, willowy woman with a perfect blonde chignon glides toward us, her smile too bright, too eager. "I'm Vivienne. We're absolutely thrilled you've chosen Eleganza for your bridal journey."
Bridal journey.
"Thank you for accommodating us on such short notice," I say, the words mechanical but polite. My family raised me better than to punish retail workers for my own problems.
"For the Feretti family? We'd move mountains." Vivienne's gaze flicks to Hazel, then to Matteo who stands by the entrance, scanning for threats. "Will your other bridesmaids be joining us today?"
"Just us," Hazel says quickly, squeezing my hand. "We're keeping it intimate."
Vivienne leads us to a private fitting area with mirrors on three sides and a small platform in the center. More champagne waits on a side table with chocolate-covered strawberries that I know I won't be able to stomach.
"First, I'll need to take your measurements," Vivienne says, producing a measuring tape from her pocket. "Then I'll bring some sample gowns for you to try. Even with our rush timeline, we want to make sure you find exactly the right style."
I nod, standing still as she wraps the tape around my waist, hips, bust. Each touch makes my skin crawl, but I force myself to breathe. This isn't her fault. None of this is her fault.
"You have such a lovely figure," Vivienne comments. "Any designer would be thrilled to dress you."
"Thank you," I manage, catching Hazel's concerned gaze in the mirror.
The measuring tape feels like a noose tightening around my neck. I focus on the crystal chandelier above us, counting the dangling prisms. One, two, three...
"What style were you envisioning?" Vivienne asks, jotting numbers in a small notebook. "Something traditional? Modern? Princess? Mermaid?"
"I haven't really thought about it," I admit.
Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rise slightly before she catches herself. "Of course. With such a quick timeline, you haven't had much chance to browse. No worries—I'll bring several silhouettes for you to try."
She disappears through a doorway, leaving Hazel and me alone.
"You okay?" Hazel asks quietly.
I shake my head. "Not really. But I need to get through this."
Vivienne returns before Hazel can respond, pushing a rack of white gowns.
"I've selected some of our finest pieces," she announces proudly. "Let's start with this Vera Wang. Classic elegance with modern details."
She holds up a strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline and delicate beading. It's beautiful. It makes me want to scream.
"Lovely," I say instead, because Ginerva taught me manners, and because Vivienne doesn't deserve my rage. No one in this room is responsible for the cage I'm walking into. Not even me, really.
"Shall we try it on?" Vivienne asks, already moving to help me undress.
I nod, letting her unzip my dress while I stare at a spot on the wall, trying to disconnect from my body.
The Vera Wang slides over my skin like silk armor. Vivienne bustles around me, adjusting the bodice, smoothing the skirt, making small sounds of approval.
"Absolutely stunning," she breathes, stepping back to admire her work. "The way it hugs your curves... divine. What do you think?"
I stare at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looks like a bride. She looks beautiful and tragic and completely hollow inside.
"It's nice," I say.
Vivienne's smile falters slightly. "Nice? Oh darling, you look like a goddess. The beadwork catches the light perfectly, and the train... simply magnificent."
"It's fine," I clarify, still staring at myself. The dress is objectively gorgeous. It's probably worth more than most people's cars. And I feel absolutely nothing looking at it.
"Perhaps we should try another style?" Vivienne suggests, her voice climbing an octave. "Something with sleeves? More coverage can be very elegant."
I nod because she expects me to. Because this is what we're here for. To find a dress for a wedding that shouldn't be happening.
The second dress is Marchesa. Off-the-shoulder with intricate lace appliques and a cathedral train. Vivienne practically vibrates with excitement as she zips me into it.
"Oh my goodness," she gasps, pressing her hands to her heart. "This is it. This is absolutely it. You look like... like a fairytale princess."
I turn slowly on the platform, watching the skirt swirl around me. The lace is exquisite, each flower carefully placed. The craftsmanship is undeniable.
"What do you think?" Vivienne asks, her eyes bright with anticipation.
"It's beautiful," I say truthfully.
"Beautiful? It's perfection! The way the neckline frames your décolletage, the way the waist accentuates your figure... I've never seen a bride look more radiant."
Hazel catches my eye in the mirror. She can see what Vivienne can't. That I'm dying inside this gorgeous dress. That no amount of lace or beading can make this feel real or right.
"Maybe we should look at a few more options?" Hazel suggests gently.
"More options?" Vivienne's voice goes shrill. "But this is perfect! I mean, if we're concerned about time constraints, this dress could be altered within the week. The measurements are nearly perfect already."
"I just... I can't decide," I admit, and it's the truth. Not because both dresses are lovely, but because choosing feels impossible when nothing about this matters. When I'm just a doll being dressed up for someone else's benefit.
"Well, of course it's a big decision," Vivienne says, misreading my hesitation entirely.
"It's your wedding dress! The most important dress you'll ever wear.
But honestly, between you and me, the Marchesa is absolutely divine on you.
I've dressed countless brides, and I've rarely seen such a perfect match. "
I nod absently, still staring at my reflection. The woman in the mirror looks like she belongs in magazines. She looks like someone who should be happy, who should be glowing with joy. Instead, she looks like an expensive mannequin.
A soft knock interrupts my spiral. Matteo's voice carries through the door.
"Ladies? I need to speak with you for a moment."
Vivienne looks annoyed at the interruption. "We're in the middle of a fitting."
"It's fine," I call out. "Come in."
Matteo appears in the doorway, his gaze carefully averted from my dress. "Daniel's arrived. I need to head out for a meeting with Damiano."
Heat floods my cheeks remembering that he was going to come. Daniel. Here. While I'm standing in a wedding dress like some grotesque mockery of what we almost had yesterday.
Vivienne claps her hands together. "Oh wonderful! You and the other gentleman can give us an opinion. Men have such interesting perspectives on bridal fashion."
My stomach drops to my toes. The idea of Daniel seeing me like this—draped in white silk and lace, playing bride to another man—makes me want to crawl under the platform and disappear.
"That won't be necessary," I say quickly.
I hear my name being called from inside the bridal salon. The saleswoman waves me over with a bright smile.
"Mr. Daniel, please come in! The bride is trying on dresses, and we'd love a man's opinion."
My feet move before my brain can stop them. I step into the fitting area, and everything else disappears.
Lucrezia stands on a small platform surrounded by mirrors, draped in white silk and lace that catches the light like fresh snow.
The dress hugs her curves before flaring at her hips, trailing behind her in a delicate train.
Her dark hair falls in waves against the white fabric, creating a contrast that steals my breath.
She's not just beautiful.
She's devastating.
Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, wide and filled with something that looks like pain. The flush on her cheeks deepens as I stare, unable to look away or form words. My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to cross the room and tear that dress off her.
"You look..." The words die in my throat. What can I possibly say?
Matteo clears his throat loudly, breaking the spell between us. He looks pointedly at me, then at Lucrezia. "I need to head out."
I nod, grateful for the interruption yet desperate for him to stay.
"Actually," Hazel says, glancing between us with knowing eyes, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."
Before I can object, both Matteo and Hazel are moving toward the door.
The door closes behind them, leaving me alone with Lucrezia and the saleswoman. Lucrezia's eyes never leave mine in the mirror.
"Vivienne," she says, her voice steady despite the tremor I can see in her hands. "Could you give us a moment? I'll call you when we're ready."
Vivienne looks between us, curiosity plain on her face. "Of course, Miss Feretti. Take your time." She hesitates, then adds with a smile, "The dress is stunning on you."
When the door clicks shut behind Vivienne, the silence in the room feels thick enough to cut. Lucrezia turns slowly on the platform to face me directly instead of through the mirror.
"Say something," she whispers.
I cross the room slowly, each step measured and deliberate. The plush carpet muffles my footsteps as I approach her, my eyes never leaving hers.
When I reach the platform, I stop. She stands above me, wrapped in white silk and lace, looking like everything I've ever wanted and can never have.
"You shouldn't be wearing that dress," I say, my voice low and rough.
Her lips part slightly, hurt flashing across her face before she masks it.
"Not because you don't look beautiful in it," I continue, stepping onto the platform with her. "Because you should be wearing a dress you chose for yourself. For a man you chose for yourself."
I reach out, my fingers hovering near her face without touching her. "You deserve a dress that makes you feel like the queen you are, not like property being transferred between families."
Her breath catches as I move closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
"If you were mine," I say, the words scraping my throat raw with honesty, "I wouldn't let you walk down any aisle unless your eyes lit up at the thought of reaching me at the end of it."
My hand finally makes contact, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I trace my thumb along her jawline, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch.
"You deserve a man who would burn the world down to keep you safe, but who knows you're strong enough to save yourself."
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she leans into my touch.
"I see you, Lucrezia Feretti," I whisper, the words falling between us like a confession. "I've always seen you."
I cup her face in my hands, my control hanging by a thread.
The world narrows to just this moment. Her eyes locked with mine, her breath warm against my skin, the soft silk of her wedding dress brushing against my legs.
I shouldn't do this. She belongs to someone else. To the family. To duty.
But I'm done fighting what I feel.
I close the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss is gentle at first, a question more than a demand. Her body goes rigid for a heartbeat before she melts against me, her hands clutching at my shirt.
A small sound escapes her throat as I deepen the kiss, my hands sliding from her face to her waist, pulling her closer. She trembles against me, her whole body shaking like a leaf in a storm. I pull back just enough to look at her face, to make sure she's okay.
"More," she whispers, the word barely audible.
That single word snaps the last thread of my control. I crush my mouth to hers again, harder this time, pouring years of longing into the kiss. My hands tangle in her hair. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she rises on her tiptoes, pressing herself against me.
I want to tear this dress off her body. I want to erase any trace of Bruno Sartori from her life. I want to claim her as mine in every way possible.
My hands find the zipper at the back of the dress, and I'm seconds away from ripping the fabric apart when voices filter through the door.
"I think the Marchesa would be perfect for the reception," Vivienne's cheerful voice carries from the hallway.
Lucrezia and I break apart, both breathing hard. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her cheeks flushed. I step back, putting distance between us as the door handle turns.
"I'll take this one," Lucrezia says quickly, smoothing her hands over the silk of the gown. Her voice sounds steadier than I expected, though I can see her hands still trembling.
Vivienne enters, her face lighting up at Lucrezia's words. "Oh, wonderful choice! We can have it altered and ready in just a few days."
Hazel slips in behind Vivienne, her eyes darting between Lucrezia and me. She raises an eyebrow slightly, taking in Lucrezia's flushed face and my clenched fists.
"It's perfect," Hazel agrees, though her eyes tell me she knows exactly what interrupted the fitting.
I clear my throat, finding my voice. "I'll wait at the entrance. Take your time." I need to get out of this room.
Lucrezia's eyes meet mine one last time in the mirror as I turn to leave. The longing I see there matches the ache in my chest.
I walk out, closing the door firmly behind me. In the hallway, I lean against the wall, trying to regain my composure. The taste of her still lingers on my lips, and I know with absolute certainty that I'm in trouble.
Because I want what I can't have.
And what I want is about to marry someone else.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
FUCK.