16. Vinnie
The moment my makeup artist spritzed my face with setting spray, the process of my hair began. The remanence of brunch sits in my esophagus like burning acid as the hairstylist curls and pins my hair into the wedding look of my dreams.
“Oh, sweetheart, you look stunning!” my mother coos as she watches through the mirror from the plush tufted couch behind me. She glances at the diamond studded Rolex on her wrist. “I’m so sorry I won’t get to stay longer and see you right before the wedding. Your father insists that I ride in the limo with him.”
A weak smile tugs at my lips. “That’s okay, Mother. Go get ready.”
“I have about five more minutes. Oh, Cecilia, don’t you look picture perfect?”
Cecilia emerges from the en suite where her hair and makeup was being done as well. She’s barefoot, wearing a light pink silk robe, and smiles warmly at my mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Paladino.”
Raina passes her a flute filled to the brim with bubbly champagne as she passes by. She’s wearing a matching silk robe, and is on her way to the en suite to trade places with Cecilia. From the small smirk on Lia’s lips, I have a feeling Raina rolled her eyes at my mother’s comment.
We’re all a bit on edge with her presence. My two best friends know how much I’ve been dreading this day, and they’re as frustrated as I am by my mother’s ignorance about the emotions of her own daughter.
Time drags on as those five minutes tick by, but finally, my mother stands to gather her purse and air kisses me goodbye. “I’ll see you when you walk down the aisle.”
She turns again to give me one last look of adoration before the hotel door closes softly behind her.
“Thank fuck,” Raina says from the en suite. Cecilia bursts into laughter, as do I, but the hairstylist doing my hair looks unamused. “Now we can get this party started.”
Immediately, music blares from the bathroom she’s in—a top 40 something I recognize but don’t know the name of.
“Champagne?” Cecilia asks, lifting a fresh flute in offering.
“Sure.”
“How are you holding up?” she asks as she passes it to me.
Bringing the glass to my lips, I drink a gulp while the stylist releases one of my curls from the styling wand. “Mmm hmm,” I hum as cheerfully as possible. “T-minus one hour.”
“Just say the word,” Raina yells from the other room. How she even heard me is baffling.
“I’ll go check on her,” Cecilia muses, walking into the bathroom and leaving me to my thoughts.
Behind me, my hairstylist grabs an aerosol bottle, and a plume of chemicals clouds around my head as she sprays my hair. “Final touches, Miss Paladino.”
I say nothing, but take another large gulp of my champagne.
Moments later, she tells me she’s finished and encourages me to look in the mirror.
My hair and makeup are as beautiful as they were on the day of my final dress fitting. Absolute perfection and fit for a bride who is head over heels in love with her fiancé—not a woman who would rather be anywhere else, in anyone else’s shoes.
“It’s stunning,” I tell her truthfully.
For a moment, I watch her clean up her belongings until Raina comes out of the bathroom. Her hair is a simple half up, half down style of soft waves that cascade down her back, with two small pieces framing her face. “You look amazing.”
“So do you, babe.”
“Are you ready to get in your gown?” Lia asks softly, approaching my dress. Her hand shakes slightly as she brushes it against the fabric.
Blowing out a breath, she finally reaches for my dress, pulling it from the hook and cradling it in her arms.
Shrugging my white silk robe from my shoulders, I stand in my undergarments as Lia brings the wedding gown to me.
The closer she gets, the heavier the pit in my stomach feels.
The three of us say nothing as they help me into the gown, delicately holding the sleeves so I can slip my arms through them. The moment feels so wrong. We should be smiling and laughing, feeling giddy for this once in a lifetime moment we’re sharing.
But the room feels completely devoid of happiness.
Cecilia situates the tulle off my shoulders while Raina zips up the back. When they step back so we can all look at my reflection in the mirror, I notice tears lining Lia’s eyes.
“For what it’s worth,” Raina says as she blows out a shaky breath to hide the quiver in her voice. “You look absolutely divine.”
“Like a queen,” Lia’s voice is melancholy.
“Like a Paladino princess.” I can’t push away the sadness in my voice, and a single tear rolls down Cecilia’s cheek.
The sound of the hotel room phone ringing cuts the somber moment short, and Cecilia hurries across the room to answer it. Raina and I glance at each other, and I wonder who would be calling.
“Hello?”
The hairstylists whisper their goodbyes and well-wishes to me before they quietly leave the room, and I return my attention back to Lia.
Her brows crumple together as she listens to whoever is on the other end. “I don’t recognize that name. Hang on.”
Covering the speaker of the phone, she looks at me. “The front desk says your cousin Tate is here to see you?”
Immediately, my heart rate picks up. “I don’t have a cousin named Tate.”
Removing her hand from the speaker, Cecilia tells the front desk she’ll be right down and hangs up.
“I’ll go see who it is,” she says as she pulls on a pair of leggings under her robe, before untying the bow in the front and shrugging it off. Quickly, she throws on a chambray button down.
Within seconds, she’s out the door, not bothering to close it softly as she makes her exit.
“Why would someone pretend to be your cous—” A knock on the door slices through her sentence.
We both turn to look at it.
My eyes narrow as I shrug at Raina, assuming Lia left her keycard. Crossing the room, I answer it, expecting her to be there.
All at once, the air leaves my lungs with a harsh whoosh as Sly comes into view on the other side of the doorway, staring at me with a fire in his eyes I haven’t seen in months. He’s wearing his signature all black look, this time with jeans and his leather motorcycle jacket over a t-shirt—looking like sex and sin, and making the butterflies dance in my stomach like they do every time I set my gaze on him.
“Sly,” I whisper, as he takes a step toward me and cups my cheek with his hand.
“Hello, piccola ladra.” His eyes roam down my body, taking in my appearance in my wedding gown. “Wow. You look breathtaking, Vincenza.”
He drinks me in, and as he does, a flood of emotion slams into me. I should be wearing this dress for him.
Walking down the aisle to him.
Reciting my wedding vows to him.
But we’ve been robbed of what should be the happiest day of our lives.
Lifting his gaze, he looks behind me at Raina.
“If I may speak with the bride for a moment…alone,” he requests with such poise, it leaves no room for argument.
Raina lifts her arms before bringing them back down to pat the sides of her thighs. “Let me change really fast.”
She winks at me as she goes back to the en suite and shuts the door behind her. It barely clicks into place before I’m spinning back toward Sly.
“What are you doing here?”
His eyes blaze with confidence as he leans forward and kisses me softly. As he pulls away, his thumb brushes my cheek. “Convincing you to marry me instead.”
“I hope you can,” Raina mumbles, emerging from the bathroom, and not slowing as she sees herself out.
Once alone, Sly’s lips descend on mine again, not giving me a moment to respond. Not that it matters, because the moment his lips touch mine, I’m completely under his spell.
His kiss starts off slowly, but quickly ignites my blood. Warm tingles radiate over my body, desire instantly pooling between my thighs as he tangles his hand through the curls of my hair. Cupping the base of my skull, he presses his thumb against it to tilt my head back, deepening the kiss.
A groan vibrates through him, and I eagerly match it with my own.
I feel him everywhere, yet the only place he’s touching is my head.
The magnitude of his presence shocks me to my core. I hadn’t realized how badly I craved him until his skin touched mine. But I know this is fleeting. Only for a few moments.
Pulling away, I break the kiss and allow my forehead to rest against his. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Yet, there’s nowhere else I could imagine being.”
“It’s my wedding day,” I argue, forcing myself to stay strong.
“Sì, and witnessing you in this gown is doing something to me, Vincenza. I have dreamed of this day a million times, and it is clear the fantasy did not do the reality justice.”
A whimper catches in my throat and I close my eyes. With a strained voice, I admit, “I’ve dreamed of it, too.”
“Piccola ladra, I understand that there are things you are not telling me, but I need you to understand something as well. I will do everything in my power to protect you. What do I have to do to get you to call the wedding off?”
“I can’t, Sly.”
I expect him to argue—to fight back like he has with every other conversation—but he doesn’t this time. We’ve gone around in circles so much, and it makes me weaker, my resolve crumbling little by little with every heated conversation.
This time though, his eyes simply search mine, and I can see the moment something clicks into place for him. His demeanor changes—the light in his eyes dims.
It feels like a bullet to the heart.
“Very well,” he says, nodding once. His tone is colder than it was before, a little more detached.
It breaks another piece of me.
Sliding his hand down my sleeve, he takes mine and gently tugs me over to the white tufted couch in the center of the room, guiding me to stand in front of it. Neither of us sits, but he drags his hungry eyes up and down my body again, and my stomach tumbles.
Sly’s fingers graze across the intricate lace flowers near my breasts. He takes his time, moving around me to take in every last detail. Bracing his hands on my hips, he turns me so we’re both facing away from the couch, my back to his front.
A chill runs through me as his lips ghost the side of my ear, his warm breath against the sensitive skin.
I’m hypersensitive to his every movement and touch, my body begging for more of it. The thin fabric of my panties rubs against me as I shift on my legs, the friction almost too much as my heart races and I wonder what he’s going to do or say next.
“Sei assolutamente stupendo.” Though I don’t understand his native tongue, when he speaks, my knees weaken with his words, and I know I’m lost to him—a willing captive in the tortuous web he’s weaving in an effort to get me to call off the wedding.
My heart feels like it might explode from how quickly it’s beating, my breaths becoming more shallow.
Able to read my body perfectly, Sly drags his lips down the column of my neck, allowing the back of his fingers to follow.
Gently, he bites the curve of my neck to my shoulder and causes my heart to stop when he whispers, “Lift your wedding gown, piccola ladra.”