3. Neve
CHAPTER THREE
Neve
S uddenly, I’m completely and utterly alone in the little garden.
Gentle flowing water features like miniature waterfalls flow over a rock wall to my left. To my right is a garden made up of orchids - magnificent, unusual colors spread across the ornate and carefully designed landscape.
It’s a perfectly designed secret garden. We were going to have some of our wedding photographs taken in here.
My heart splinters.
It’s not only the fact that Damion didn’t arrive - it’s also my father. How cruel and heartless he can be, even in moments like this. Moments when a daughter would really need her father.
I shiver runs down my spine and I turn quickly, half expecting Celso to still be there watching me. He makes me so nervous. The dangerous look in his gorgeous eyes. The way he acts like he has a right to do whatever he pleases whenever he pleases, as though there are no consequences for him.
He scares me a little. And that turns me on a little. Which pisses me off a little.
I sigh loudly, brushing away the last tear I will allow myself to cry before I plaster the bravest expression onto my face and head out into the reception area to face one million questions and looks of pathetic empathy and pity from everyone who glances in my direction.
I’m mortified.
But also really worried about what has happened to Damion.
I give myself a five-minute limit and when the time is up, I brush my hands over my dress and lift my head high .
Then I step out of the garden and into the foyer leading to the church.
I practically collapse in relief when I see Dalila waiting there for me.
“Please, stay with me.” I whisper, leaning close to her. “My father will be out appeasing the reporters, and I don’t want to be alone in this crowd.”
Dalila laughs a mischievous little snort. “Oh honey, there is no way we are going to the reception so that you can be entertainment for these vultures.”
“My father said?—”
“Yes, yes - I heard what your dad said, but let’s be honest - this sucks balls. I have no idea how you are holding yourself together to elegantly. You don’t need that —” she gestures towards the crowded passage the leads to the reception venue. People are already gawking at me.
I bite at my lower lip.
We stand quietly to the side, Dalila smiling and nodding at the guests as they flood from the church into the other venue. She is acting as a shield between them and me.
“Ready?” she asks, when the crowd starts to thin out.
“For what?” I ask in confusion.
“ Now .” She grins, grabbing my hand as she tugs me across the open space and into an elevator. She slams her fingers against the button until the door closes.
“Dalila—” I can’t help but grin too. “What are you up to?”
“After party.” She raises one of her brows and the elevator rides up to what was supposed to be my honeymoon suite that I have booked for this evening.
On the top floor Dalila tugs me towards the best room in the entire hotel. It’s the penthouse. She swipes the keycard that she obviously found in all my belongings and pushes the door open.
It’s gorgeous.
The room is massive, as big as an apartment, and the views are shockingly good. On the kitchen counter is a basket of champagne, chocolate, cheese and biscuits and a wide assortment of other snacks.
She walks straight over to it and grabs one of the champagne bottles.
“He might have made the biggest mistake in his life by ditching you, but that doesn’t mean we can’t party.” She grins, twisting the cork.
Giving in I pick up the two crystal champagne glasses, jumping a little when the cork shoots out in a loud pop, holding them towards Dalila so she can pour glittering gold champagne for us.
“To the man - who clearly didn’t deserve you.” She smiles, lifting her glass.
I sip my champagne, a little dry for my taste, but who cares.
My heart clenches when I think of how badly today went. I down the rest of what’s in my glass.
“Wow. Ok. I’ll put the other two bottles in the fridge to chill.” Dalila says, first topping my glass up .
I wander over to the balcony and tug the glass doors open to let in a gentle afternoon breeze. Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and tell myself everything is going to be ok.
I down the second glass of champagne.
“Oh fuck it.” Dalila laughs, carrying the bottle out to the balcony to stand with me.
Hours later we are both beyond tipsy. Laughing at nothing, lying stretched out on the fluffy white carpet in the living room and staring at the crystal chandelier above our heads.
“Do you want to know something funny?” I say, slurring my words a little.
“I want to know how you are still breathing in that wedding dress - but sure - something funny - go for it.” Dalila snickers.
“When he didn’t show up - at first, I was horrified. Embarrassed, rejected, feeling like everyone was judging me.” I roll onto my stomach so that I can sip my champagne.
“And now?” She asks.
“Well - I cried about it - because that’s the normal thing to do, but when I was talking to your brother and something he said made me realize - I was relieved .”
“Huh?” She splutters, rolling onto her stomach as well, kicking her legs up behind herself.
“What did my brother say? What do you mean?”
“Pfft. I can’t remember what he said - but I was relieved, Dalila. And now even more so since I’ve got over the shock of it all. I didn’t want to marry Damion. He’s an amazing person, a good guy, but like - boring.”
I shrug.
“Most arranged marriages are like that. A marriage of convenience.”
“Not yours.” I tilt my head to the side and the room spins.
“I got lucky.”
“I want to get lucky.”
A knock on the door makes us both jump and laugh, Dalila spills champagne on the carpet and brushes her hand across it to hide it, still giggling .
The door pushes open and in walks Mas and Celso.
Mas looks angry as he stares down at the two drunkest girls I think he’s seen in a while.
“What are you doing?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Dalila, people have been asking where the bride is.”
“Well—” She huffs indignantly. “They should be asking where the groom is.”
Celso laughs, a deep sexy sound that rumbles through me and I grin at him in my rather un-sober state.
Fuck. He’s even hotter than before. When did that happen?
I shift myself and sit up, my legs getting tangled in the dress, so I hitch it up higher giving myself more space to move.
Celso’s eyes take me in hungrily and I smirk. He thinks I’m hot. I can see it all over his face.
He’s always wanted me. He’s told me more than once .
But I promised my friend I’d never date her brothers. And besides - it’s Celso . He’s not the kind of guy you date. Dark, moody, dangerous and - he takes the term bad boy to a whole different level.
No.
Stop looking at him like that, Neve.
I sigh and try to stand up. But I stumble and fall hard onto my ass again.
Dalila laughs and flops onto her side.
“Don’t laugh at me. You try stand up.” I giggle.
“I can stand up.” She says boldly. “I have no legs.” her laughter slurs her words into a mumble.
The two men are staring at us as though we’ve lost our minds.
Dalila rolls onto her stomach again and pulls her legs beneath herself and braces her body by leaning onto her hands. It doesn’t work.
And we are rolling with laughter again.
“We have to get them into bed.” Mas says, unamused .
“You grab Dalila. I’ll grab the bride.” Celso says, stepping towards me. Mas looks like he wants to argue, but he presses his lips together and leans down to scoop his sister off the floor. “Really, Dalila?” He huffs. “What’s Nevio going to say when he finds out you’re this drunk?”
“ Really, Dalila .” She mocks him, pulling a face. “I already told Nevio I’m on best friend duty for like the entire night.” She sasses at him. “Oh my goodness I need to pee.”
“For fuck sakes.” Mas groans.
When Celso leans down and wraps his arms around my body, lifting me as though I weigh nothing at all and holding me cradled in his arms - I swoon.
Embarrassingly, I freaking swoon.
To make things worse - I rest my head on his shoulder and take a deep breath of his cologne. Oh. My. Goodness. He’s sexy. He leans his head into me, and his lips brush over my neck. It sends goosebumps washing over my skin. My entire body lights with need .
He carries me through to the main bedroom and carefully lays me down on the bed. I take his hand and squint at him, grinning, probably looking like a complete maniac.
“You’re kind of hot.” I giggle. The smile that spreads across his lips is tainted with darkness.
“ Neve .” Dalila says in horror.
“Sorry.” I laugh louder, releasing Celso’s hand.
She rolls across the bed from where Mas dumped her unceremoniously next to me and punches me in the arm.
“You may not date my brother.” She says sternly, throwing me a dramatic, serious stare.
I giggle again and close my eyes. The entire room is spinning.
“Dalila—” I whisper.
“Mm—”
“Thank you.” I mumble.
“I’d do anything for you, babe. You mean the world to me.” She says, drunkenly draping her arm over me and snuggling herself into the pillow.
She’s asleep and snoring when Celso comes back into the room carrying water and tables.
“Sit up.” He demands, his voice so captivating that I do exactly as I’m told. Dalila’s arm flops off me but she carries on snoring.
“Take this, or you’re going to feel like death in the morning.” He hands me water and gestures for me to open my mouth.
Narrowing my eyes at him for a second I contemplate my life choices - my lips part.
He gently pushes two painkillers into my mouth, letting his fingers brush slowly across my lips.
A low growl rumbles through him.
Behind him Mas walks into the room.
“Let’s go.” He snaps. “We’ll come check on them tomorrow.”
Celso says nothing, but his eyes are like dreamy dark pools that are drawing me in.
That’s the last thing I remember before I pass out next to my best friend on what was supposed to be my wedding day.