Chapter 25 Zahra
ZAHRA
“Am I making a mistake?” I gasp, hands shaking as I take in my reflection in the mirror. I’d opted for simple makeup topped up with a burgundy lipstick. The loose waves of my hair fall down my back as I grip my white silk robe so tight my knuckles turn white.
“Wow. Are you having cold feet? This might be the first normal reaction you’ve had about getting married.
” Samirah smirks, placing the garment bag containing my dress on the couch.
She walks up behind me and looks at me in the mirror.
“You wouldn’t be the first runaway bride in history, so you say the word and I’ll sneak you out. ”
Her tone is light but I can tell she’s serious. Samirah has always been there for me, and I know my wedding day will be no exception.
I shake my head, dragging my sweaty hands down my thighs. “I won’t run away. I don’t want to.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You don’t? Then what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just know that my heart’s racing, I can barely breathe, and my hands are so damn sweaty.” I groan. “I’m not having a panic attack though. I know what those feel like, and this is not it. I just feel on edge.”
Samirah eyes me up and down, tapping a finger on her chin when a mischievous glint comes over her eyes. “Dare I say this could be butterflies?”
“What? No. Absolutely not.” That would be insane. Had Declan and I gotten closer over the past few weeks? Sure. With how much time we’d been spending together, it was practically inevitable that we’d become friends, but that’s where it ended.
“Hmm, you’re being a little defensive here…”
“No. I’m not. I’m being honest. Any feelings I have for Declan are strictly platonic. And they need to stay that way. Friendships are risky enough in our line of work. Loving someone gets you a one-way ticket to the execution block.” I shrug, picking at a loose thread on my sleeve.
Samirah winces. “Harsh.”
“Harsh, but true. It’s why my father sent me away when I was a kid.
Kept my identity hidden. He loved me so much, he knew that the second any of his enemies found me, I’d be either killed on the spot or used as a bartering tool.
His love for me made him weak. And you can’t be weak as a boss.
” I swallow the lump in my throat as I remember my dad wouldn’t be here to see me today, wouldn’t be standing by my side.
Samirah vehemently shakes her head. “You’re wrong.
Your father’s love for you wasn’t a weakness.
It was his greatest strength, and probably the only thing that kept him grounded.
Being a boss is grueling. The danger you’re put in, the tough decisions you have to make, the lives you have to take.
All of those are enough to make a person numb to it all, but your father never did.
He stayed grounded. Tried to live life as honestly as he could, despite who he was.
And he did that because of you. He did that because he loved you and wanted better for you.
Love isn’t weakness. It’s the only thing that has the power to heal all the pain the world hurls at us. ”
My vision starts to blur as tears fill my eyes. Dammit. I can’t even remember the last time I cried. Probably my father’s funeral. “You’re turning me into a pile of mush. I’m going to ruin my makeup.” I laugh, deflecting from the heaviness that’s filled the room.
“You better not. I spent so long making sure you look perfect, not that you don’t already. Declan won’t know what hit him.” She beams, tucking a loose wave behind my ear.
“I doubt it. He’s used to being around pretty women.” I shrug.
“So loud and so wrong. You haven’t seen the way he looks at you. I’m willing to bet the second Declan sees you, he’s going to drag you into a closet and beg you to let him have his way.”
“‘Have his way?’ What century are we in?” I snort.
“You can make fun of me all you want, but I know deep down you hope I’m right.
” She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, Samirah unzips the garment bag and reveals my dress: A lace ball gown that cinches at my waist, with off-the-shoulder sleeves, and embroidered with the most delicate and intricate flower design I’d ever seen.
“Samirah,” I breathe out in awe, chills running down my spine.
“I take it, you approve?” She places a hand on her hip, proud.
“Approve? This is so incredibly stunning, any words I say won’t do it justice. Thank you. Thank you so much.” I take in the dress again, tracing my fingers along the delicate lace.
“It’s what you deserve. Every bride deserves to feel special on her wedding day, but you?
You deserve to feel like you’re a queen.
Because you are.” Samirah reaches into her bag, pulling out a large square velvet case.
She holds the lip open for me to see the delicate headpiece inside. “And every queen needs a crown.”
“Of all the people in the world I had to be paired with, why did it have to be him?” Azula growls, tapping her nude heel.
“You’re my maid of honor, and the maid of honor has to walk down the aisle with the best man. You can’t be surprised that Declan chose his brother for that role.”
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear.” Aidan’s voice comes from behind me, causing Azula to stiffen.
He takes a few steps forward so he’s right in front of me, eyes softening as he takes me in.
“Zahra, you look absolutely stunning. My brother won’t know what hit him.
If Declan stumbles during his vows, it's not because he hasn’t been practicing.
It's because he’ll be too distracted by you. ”
My throat tightens. This all feels too real.
Up until the moment I put on my dress, I’d been able to keep my feelings in check and remind myself this was a business arrangement between two friends.
Once I saw my reflection in the mirror, the walls I’d put up had come crumbling down, and for a moment all I could feel was…
excitement. I’d forgotten about the reality of who I was.
Forgotten the true reason for getting married today.
Instead, I twirled around in my ball gown and let myself pretend I was a normal girl, in the dress of her dreams, about to marry a man who understood her better than anyone else.
I’d never resented being the heir to a mafia. Never wanted to be anything but a boss. That is still true, but I couldn’t deny that a part of me wondered how differently my life would look if I put my own needs first for once.
“Flirting with your brother’s fiancée is pretty low. Even for you, Aidan.” Azula rolls her eyes at him.
“I was merely complimenting my future sister, ‘Zula, no need to get jealous.” He smirks as he moves to stand next to her.
Even with her heels on, he towers over Azula, not that she’s phased. “One, don’t ever call me that again or I’ll feed your balls to our guard dogs. And two, I will not now nor will I ever be jealous of any woman forced to deal with you. The only thing I’ll feel for her is pity.”
Aidan mock gasps, placing a hand on his chest. “You wound me, dear Azula. How will I ever recover?”
“Here’s hoping you never do.” She crosses her arms. “If Declan doesn’t show up in the next five minutes, I’m barging into his dressing room and dragging him out myself. The sooner this ceremony is over, the faster I’ll be able to put as much distance between us as possible.”
“And here I thought you were just playing hard to get,” Aidan snickers.
Azula’s expression shifts from irritated to blank, emotionless, and cold, a facade that’s typically only reserved for the enemies we’ve captured and assigned her to torture.
For all of Aidan’s mouthing off, he suddenly turns white as a ghost, as if he’s realized he’s been poking a grizzly bear for the past five minutes and not a koala.
He puts at least six feet of distance between them and tucks his hand behind his jacket, no doubt confirming his gun is in place.
Azula snorts; her smug look tells me how much fun she’s having toying with Aidan like he’s her prey.
“Sorry for the delay, Samirah wasn’t satisfied with my collar and decided to hem it.” Declan’s smooth voice fills the room and sends chills down my spine. Fuck. He has entirely too much of an effect on me.
“I should have guessed it was her. Samirah has always been a perfectionist.” I grab the sides of my gown, turning so I’m face-to-face with him.
My heart races, heat filling me, as Declan’s eyes widen and trail down my body.
I can’t stop the smile on my face as I realize his own mouth is slightly gaped open.
“Zahra… You look angelic. God, I swear you’ll be the death of me.
” His gruff voice is in stark comparison to the way he places his palm on the small of my back, closing the distance between us so our chests are flush against each other.
I ignore all the voices in my head yelling that this is too close—too much for two people who are meant to keep this marriage strictly professional.
Instead, I dive right back into my fantasy, where for tonight I’m not Zahra Ahzimi, head of the Persian Mafia.
I’m just Zahra. A girl marrying a man who’s currently looking at her like she’s the answer to all his prayers.
“Declan…” I whisper, fully aware that we’re not alone in this room, but wanting nothing more for a moment where it can be just us. As if he can read my mind, he pulls us toward the back of the hallway. Azula and Aiden take the hint and try their best to distract themselves and give us some privacy.
“We don’t have much time, love.” He clicks his tongue in frustration, the heat of his palm holding me steady.
“I know. I just wanted to ask if you could promise me something. If we could promise each other something,” I correct.
“Anything,” he states, without hesitation.
“Can we pretend tonight is real?” I ask breathlessly.
His grip on my waist tightens, as if he needs me to keep him grounded.
If only he knew the feeling is mutual. I grip his forearm, holding him in place.
Declan takes a deep breath. Then another.
He cups my face with his free hand, tracing my bottom lip with his thumb. “This is real,” he practically pants.
My mouth waters, wanting nothing more than for him to close the distance. How does he manage to have such an effect on me with the slightest touch? I’m playing a dangerous game. One that’s going to wreck me when all is said and done, but none of that matters tonight.
“Shall we?” he asks, shifting so that he’s standing by my side—never lifting his hand that, at this rate, may as well be permanently attached to my back.
We’d decided to walk together down the aisle, a suggestion he had made after I confessed how much I hated the idea of walking alone.
To everyone else, this would symbolize that our families may have experienced great tragedy, but we still stand strong.
To me, it would symbolize how much Declan understood me, and how he didn’t even hesitate to comfort me.
I nod, bracing my shoulders, as we walk toward the giant wooden doors separating us from the altar.