CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
CASSIE
I woke up crying.
Or should I say with dried tears running down my face?
I think I was dreaming about something sad. I don’t remember it though. I have a pretty sweet ability when it comes to things that cause me discomfort. I can simply forget them. Push them to the back of my mind.
Which is why I tried not to dwell when I woke up. Plus I had something on my agenda today and I wasn’t going to let some dream I don’t remember depress me in anyway.
I twirl in front of the mirror, the silk of the gown catching the light just right. It’s strapless, ivory and delicate in all the ways I’m not. Lila claps her hands from her loveseat, nearly knocking over the try of macaroons she brought over earlier.
“You look like a princess, miss Solis,” she gushes. “Absolutely beautiful.”
I offer her a small smile, smoothing the front of the bodice.
“As annoying as it is that I have to try on wedding dresses while trapped in captivity, I have to admit this isn’t the worst day of my life.”
“It’s all about mindset,” Lila says sagely.
Ana’s also in the room. in the corner with a sketchpad balanced on her knee.
She lifts her head just enough to offer me a small smile and a thumbs up at the dress before going back to her doodle.
She hasn’t said more than five words since she came in with the racks of gowns.
I’m not sure if she dislikes me or people in general.
But I like her nonetheless. Her quiet is somehow calming, steady.
Another dress waits for me, draped carefully across the chaise. Lace sleeves, illusion neckline. I’m reaching for the zipper at the back of the current dress when the door swings open.
No knock. No warning. Damien.
I freeze with one arm halfway out of the gown. Lila jumps to her feet like she’s just been caught gossiping in church. Ana doesn’t move, though I see her pencil pause.
He steps inside like the room belongs to him. Technically it does but it’s still annoying.
His eyes rake over me, my bare shoulder, the curve of my spine and settle somewhere between smug and amused. My top of my breasts are literally on fucking display. I’m going to kill him!
“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he drawls, his eyes on my face through with his initial perusal.
“First off, why the hell didn’t you knock?” I snap.
Lila steps forward to help me out of the dress while simultaneously helping me into the robe hanging off the hook. I throw it over my body without looking at him.
“I need permission to enter my wife’s room?” he asks with an innocent expression.
“I’m not your fucking wife!” I snap, my voice echoing through the room like a gunshot. “I’m sick of this. Does anyone have a gun? Anyone? I’ll gladly end this circus right now.”
Silence.
Eyes drop. No one moves.
“I have one,” Damien says smoothly, like this is some kind of game. “But you’ll have to come get it.”
My eyes flick to the holster at his side. I run through a dozen scenarios in my head. Ways to disarm him, ways to die trying. I’m fast. Faster than most men. But Damien? He’s not like most men. He’s quicker, stronger, and dangerous in ways I can’t even calculate.
And then my gaze, stupid, disloyal thing, drops lower. There, beneath the tailored line of his slacks, is a very obvious bulge. Big. Hard to ignore.
Shit.
He shifts slightly, like he knows exactly what I’m looking at. Like he enjoys it. Smug bastard. Well, at least that massive ego is backed up by something.
“What do you want, man?” I mutter, my voice quieter now, laced with reluctant heat.
Get it together, Cassi. You can’t kill him if you're fantasizing about fucking him.
“What the hell do you want?” I ask again. “Besides, isn’t there a rule that the groom can’t see the dress until the big day? Bad luck and all that. Not that I would mind a little bad luck for a wedding I don’t want.”
“Don’t worry, bella. No amount of bad luck will keep us from being man and wife come Saturday,” he says confidently.
I roll my eyes. Asshole.
“So how’s the dress hunting going?” he asks, his gaze lingering on the gown behind me.
“Productive,” I say cooly. “I’ve narrowed it down to five I hate slightly less than the rest.’
“I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in anything, Cassie.”
I made a mistake when I told him to call me that. Because now everything he does, my heart reacts in a way I don’t like. At all.
For a beat, we just stare at each other. I refuse to look away first. And those icy blue eyes are incredibly entrancing.
Eventually, I ask, “So, what are you doing here anyway?”
“I just wanted to inform you that I’m leaving for a short trip.
To take care of matters in Chicago. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he states.
“And before you get any ideas, just because I won’t be here doesn’t mean you actually have a chance of escaping me.
My men will be watching your every move. So be a good girl, alright?”
My eyes roll, again, “Feel free to you know, maybe drop dead and not return?”
“Ouch, sweetheart. And here I thought you were warming up to me.”
“Maybe over your cold dead body,” I suggest.
He smirks, “Unfortunately, that’s not going to happen anytime soon, Cassie.”
I don’t move as he steps forward towards me, “If anything happens, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”
I look up at him, taking in the lines of his face, his carved jaw, the stubble on his chin. And finally the fierce protectiveness in his eyes. He really does care for me in his own way. It’s equal parts terrifying and flattering?
I don’t know. All I know is that a part of me likes this. Being so important to him. A
That part of me is so going to put me in trouble eventually.
Damien surprises me when he leans closer and places a hand on my chin. I still don’t break eye contact. Our eyes are still connected as he bends his head to place a kiss on my forehead.
My heart thuds at the gesture.
“See you tomorrow, bella .”
“Have a nice trip,” I murmur, the words sincere.
He offers me one last smile before turning around and leaving. The door shuts behind him and I exhale slowly.
“He cares for you a lot,” Ana’s voice fills the room, making me jump.
I completely forgot they were still here. And that they witnessed that entire interaction. My cheeks heat and I feel a little embarrassed that they did.
“She’s right. I’ve never seen the Don act so gentle with anyone,” Lila adds.
“Well he did kidnap me and take me away from my family so I’m not so sure I’m a fan of his version of care.”
“The Don never does anything without reason. Maybe he was trying to save you. Protect you from something you’re not aware of,” Ana states. “He’s not the monster you think he is.”
My lips press down in a frown. Of course the first time she says a full sentence to me, she does in defense of her boss. I think I preferred it when she wasn’t speaking.
I turn to face the mirror, my eyes narrow on the embroidered C on the white robe I currently have on.
“Let’s go back to finding my wedding dress, ladies.”
***
The house feels quiet without Damien here. Almost empty.
Which goes to show just how big his presence is. It’s like I can feel him. In the walls, in the air. He’s like a virus seeping in everywhere. Even into my very being. Which is unacceptable.
The silence in my room is also starting to drive me crazy. I’ve already flipped through every channel on the TV, skimmed three books without absorbing a single word, and stared at the ceiling long enough to memorize every detail.
Safe to say I’m bored. I haven’t really had much to do today. And everyone’s mostly left me alone. I hate being alone. I need movement. People. Noise.
Plus, the more time I spend alone, the more time I have to dwell on my thoughts. And that’s the last thing I need right now.
I pull on a loose pink cardigan from my closet, deciding to step out of my room. I decide to head to one of the most comforting places in this huge, intimidating mansion.
Renata’s kitchen.
The smell hits me before I reach the double-swinging doors, warm butter, vanilla and something nutty. I smile despite myself. Renata’s probably the most amazing cook I’ve ever met. And she just had this loving, motherly energy that somehow makes me feel safe.
When I push open the doors however, I don’t find her alone. Sofia’s already seated on a stool by the counter, scrolling through her phone, a mug of coffee steaming beside her.
She looks up when I enter, and her eyes narrow just slightly. I’ve been here more than a week and her ice-queen persona has yet to let up. That sweet girl Lila was telling me about? Yeah, she doesn’t exist. At least not to me.
That hasn’t stopped me from being cordial though.
“Cassandra,” she says without warmth.
“Good evening to you too, Sofia,” I say keeping my voice level.
Renata bustles in from the pantry before I can say more, her face lighting up the second she sees me.
“Cassie! Come, come. I was just saying how we need more hands.”
“More hands for what?” I ask eagerly, moving towards her.
She offers me a warm smile and gestures toward the counter where ingredients are already laid out. Flour, sugar, bowls, cutters in all shapes.
“Cookies. My almond shortbreads. And maybe some chocolate. Sofia said she’d help me.”
I glance at Sofia, who shrugs. “She didn’t give me a choice.”
“You love them,” Renata scolds tapping Sofia’s wrist. “Now hush. Cassie, wash your hands and grab an apron.”
It’s oddly comforting, the domesticity of it all. I find myself tying the apron strings around my waist with something close to enthusiasm. Especially because I don’t think I’ve ever baked anything in my life.
Renata hands me a bowl of flour and leans close.
“Maybe if you two bake together, you’ll stop glaring like feral cats.”
Sofia hears her and snorts. “I don’t glare like a cat.”
“Of course not,” I murmur, cracking an egg into a bowl. “More like a hawk. Circling.”
She smirks. “Better than playing the victim.”
“I’m not playing the victim. I am the victim,” I snap back.