Chapter 12
Roxy
The air inside is thick with the scent of vanilla and sparkling wine. My gaze lands on Marco and his son near the entrance, their conversation tense and animated.
I scan the room for Beatrice, but I don't see her here or in the garden behind the ballroom. I make my way toward the groom, hoping he at least knows where his runaway bride went.
Just what I needed after the scene from earlier.
As if having my mother's killer standing just a few feet away wasn't enough, there was also that kiss, the one that still burns on my lips.
It wasn't my first kiss, and it certainly won't be my last, but I know I'll remember this one for years to come because no one has ever kissed me like that.
Like I was the very air they breathed, like the universe itself had paused for a moment just to witness it.
That’s exactly how it felt. As if nothing else mattered as long as Damien's body was pressed to mine. And that's a feeling that will shatter my heart the moment he finds someone else to orbit.
No matter how much I try to pretend otherwise, I’m not made of stone.
I have to admit that over the last few months, his presence has become a strange sort of comfort.
Just knowing he's somewhere nearby, watching from the shadows, puts me at ease. Even now, when I can no longer see him, I know he’s close.
The click of my heels on the floor makes Marco turn, and both he and his son go rigid.
Luca is wearing a beige suit with a navy tie, an impeccably pressed white shirt, and caramel-colored shoes.
His brown hair is cut short on the sides, with a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead.
I can't help but smile at the contrast he makes with his bride.
One is the picture of elegance, the other the very definition of chaos.
"I hope the venue is what you wanted. Sorry, Luca, I couldn't find an available cemetery," I say.
The corners of Luca's mouth twitch upward, the only sign my morbid humor amuses him.
"Everything is perfect, Roxy," Marco answers, and I could swear I see something akin to adoration in his gaze. The feeling makes me want to shift uncomfortably on my feet, but I manage to control myself at the last second.
"Have you seen Beatrice by any chance?"
"She's probably sacrificing innocent souls nearby. If you want to find Chucky, you should follow the screams," Luca replies, and this time I really do roll my eyes at his remark.
Yes, Beatrice is odd, but in a good way. I see so many brides who all aim for a polished, almost indistinguishable look. So many women chasing the same template, the same color, the same monotony, just because it’s what they see around them and what has been imposed on them as normal.
Beatrice is...a breath of fresh air. I would have preferred she wear a more conventional wedding dress, but that’s another matter. She’s not nearly as awful as Luca makes her out to be. And I wonder what the hell happened between them that they can’t stand each other.
"Go find your bride, son." Marco's tone is laced with disappointment, and even I feel a pang in my chest.
Luca just nods and retreats toward the garden, most likely looking for his own escape from this event.
I'm still watching him go when I hear Marco's voice.
"I know it doesn't seem like it, but Bia is the right choice for him. I just wish he understood that I don't want to destroy his life even though he feels like it."
"Sometimes parents make decisions that their children don't understand at the time," I say quietly, thinking of my mother. For years, I didn’t understand why she locked me in that closet, years I wished she would tell me whom she was meeting in secret, because one thing is clear: she knew the person who ended her life.
It's a shame my memories from those days are a complete blur. Years of therapy with Uncle Henry still haven't managed to bring any more light into my mind.
When I look up, his eyes are studying my face.
"I just hope he doesn't hate me," he says, and I don't know why, but I feel like he's not talking about Luca anymore.
Feeling uneasy in his presence, I force a smile and back away.
Yuri is in a corner, arguing with the DJ when I reach them.
"The first dance is to 'Biblical' by Calum Scott, not 'Vivo per lei.' God, do I have to do everything myself?"
I look at him, amused, as he turns to me.
"Were you in the woods?" he asks, and anxiety clenches in my chest. "You have a leaf in your hair. Hold on..."
After he pulls the leaf out, I whisper a "thank you" and let him continue his argument with the DJ while I double-check the guest list and the menu.
I hear the distant roar of a motorcycle, and my heart seizes.
Marry me.
His words echo in my head, and I try to shake off the way a few simple words make my skin break out in goose bumps. And if that's the case, why the hell wasn't my first answer an immediate NO?
The wedding went mostly without incident, if you ignore the fact that the bride almost ran from the altar. But hey, as long as the marriage certificate was signed and the food was eaten, my job was done.
So now I'm on my couch with a pint of Ben & Jerry's cookie dough ice cream, watching The Mentalist for the umpteenth time.
I feel like this whole day was ripped from another universe with everything that happened, and my body jolts with panic as I instinctively jump up to check that I double-locked the door.
The windows are next on the list even though I checked them when I first got home.
This paranoia is going to be the death of me.
My phone buzzes with a new message from an unknown number, and when I open it, the device slips through my fingers.
Because the message is a picture of Yuri. Yuri, whose face is battered and swollen, his hand twisted at an impossible angle.
He left the venue at the same time I did, three hours ago.
My breaths come in ragged gasps as I try to choke back the wave of guilt and nausea that threatens to erupt.
"What have I done?" I whisper, because I feel like I've woken a sleeping monster.
Another chime announces a second message, this time a text.
"YURI IS IN FRONT OF THE METROPOLITAN HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW. A GIFT FOR YOU, ROXY. TO SHOW YOU I CAN BE GENTLE."
I try to fight back the tears, but when I think of Yuri, who only wanted to not disappoint his mother, who just a week ago ordered me a jasmine tea because he knew it was my favorite, I can no longer hold them back.
I somehow manage to get dressed, swearing the entire time that I will avenge him.
That I will make sure that fucking monster pays for what he did.
I grip the phone, dialing the number that will seal my future, but right now, it's my only chance at salvation.
After the first ring, Damien answers.
"SIX MONTHS," I tell him, "and I want to skin that bastard myself when we get our hands on him."