Quinn #3
He pulls me into his embrace. His arms wrap around me and hold on, careful of the dress, his chin at the top of my head, and I let him because I'm tired and because it's Caden. Daithí stands with his back against the door and looks at the ceiling and breathes.
"After today," Daithí says, "this stops."
I don't say anything. What is there to say? Da is who he is and there’s no changing that.
“It’s time,” Da says, glaring at me and Caden.
“Da,” Daithi warns and I watch as my da’s shoulders tense.
"We’ll be fine,” I assure Daithi, although I feel anything but fine.
Daithi gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe me, but he nods. I give him a reassuring smile, or try to, and he grits his teeth and turns. “I’ll be outside.” Caden presses a kiss to my head and follows Daithi out of the room.
It’s a warning that’s directed at our da, that Daithí and Caden are just steps away if I need them.
I turn to Da and see him watching the door. I’ve no idea what’s going through his mind and I honestly don’t give a fuck. He’s lost his mind. Of all the days, he chose today to unleash his anger on me.
“Let’s go,” Da hisses as he holds out his arm for me to take.
I take a deep breath, ignoring the pain in my head.
I just have to get through today. That’s all that I need to do. Just get through today.
I take Da’s arm and we exit the room and that’s when I hear it, the bridal march song. The dread in the pit of my stomach grows stronger, the pain in my head intensifies, and I try to push it all down, try to ignore it all and do what’s expected of me.
"Smile," Da says low, so that only I can hear him.
I do as he says and smile. I keep my head held high as I look straight ahead and I put one foot in front of the other as I feel every eye in the room track my every movement. I breathe through the nerves as I keep my chin level, trying not to let my hands shake whilst holding the bouquet.
I see Lorenzo before I'm halfway down the aisle and everything else falls away.
He’s standing at the altar with Ciro beside him, dressed in a black suit that fits him perfectly. His hair is neat, his jaw freshly shaved, and his face is as it always is, expressionless.
Then his eyes find mine.
He looks at me, really looks at me, and his gaze drops for a second, taking in the dress, the veil, and the flowers. Heat pools low in my stomach before I can stop it.
He looks devastatingly handsome. Cold, controlled, and utterly dangerous.
And in a few minutes, he’s going to be my husband.
The wedding went beautifully after the disaster with my da. Lorenzo, and I put on a good show. Mam did too, crying into her handkerchief as though she was happy for me and this wedding was one made from love rather than for alliance.
When Lorenzo kissed me, it was unlike anything I’d expected. His mouth touched mine softly, but there was nothing hesitant about it. One hand settled at my waist, firm and possessive, holding me there as he kissed me like he had all the time in the world.
The church faded from around us as I was sucked into that kiss like a vortex. I never wanted it to end. I curled my fingers around the lapels of his jacket and held on tight. The kiss was like a quiet promise, almost like a vow, of a taste of what was coming once we were alone.
The reception has been loud and chaotic. Us Irish are out drinking the Italians, but everyone is on their best behavior and enjoying the night. Daire included, which has me on edge, because my sister doesn’t enjoy herself unless she’s causing trouble.
Lorenzo has stayed close to my side for most of the evening, and it’s starting to grate on me how easy he makes it look. Cool and aloof, he’s completely untouched by any of it, as though he isn’t hating me with every breath he takes.
I need air.
Playing the happy, dutiful wife is exhausting, and this is only the first day. I’ve smiled until my cheeks ache, accepted congratulations I don’t want, and stood beside a man who looks at me like I’m the one who's the monster.
I hate the fakeness of it all.
I take the door to the side terrace and step outside. I love the coolness of the nighttime air, with the terrace door closed. It muffles the noise from inside the reception and I’m grateful for the little peace I’m given.
But that peace is short-lived when I hear voices from the far end of the terrace.
I turn, and my stomach clenches.
Lorenzo is standing near the stone railing at the far end of the terrace. Daire is with him, her hand flat against his chest, her body angled too close to his. Her face is tilted up toward his, and from where I'm standing, from this angle, it looks...
I can't move, I’m frozen on the spot as I watch as Lorenzo bends his head slightly toward her, she says something back to him, her hand is still on his chest.
He hasn't stepped back, why hasn’t he moved away from her?
And then Daire looks up and sees me. Rage and pain hit me as she gives me one of her victorious smiles.
God, I fucking hate her.
She holds my gaze for one more beat, that ugly twisted smile of hers stays on her face as she says something to Lorenzo. I watch as his body locks and he twists his head to me. I’m not sure what he sees on my face but I watch him flinch and I’m fucking glad he does.
Does everyone hate me? Is that what this is? See who can hurt Quinn the most? What have I ever done to deserve this much pain and disrespect?
I look at my husband and then at my sister, and just like that, whatever tiny piece of hope I'd been stupid enough to hold onto dies.
I turn from them both and walk back inside, because I refuse to let them know they’ve hurt me.