Chapter 25
L EILANI
Paris
Everything is perfect.
The weather outside––a sunny day smiles behind the window.
The large room, which is part of a historic building with high ceilings and antique furniture.
The woman directing her helpers to move stunning wedding dresses from an adjacent room to the rack next to us.
The tall mirrors propped against the wall that allow me to check my wedding gown from every angle.
The man who watches everything with patience from an armchair.
And last but not least, the choices I have.
Going through all this, it’s hard to remember that this dress will serve no purpose other than being a prop in a play.
Although he’s repeatedly said that I’m dressing for him.
I can’t even think that something might go wrong and I might end up being that toad’s wife even for a moment before I slash his neck with a dessert knife.
Every time I think about Stefano Varela, my blood boils. The idea of him being my husband, even for a second, brings out the worst in me.
The same thing happens when I think about my family. For them to be so serene about something so wrong, like destroying me, a young woman’s life, and never thinking about the consequences of their actions?
Who does that?
I’m behind a screen now, where, with the help of two women, I put on my third pick.
There’s nothing wrong with the first two.
In fact, they’re both on the rack as possible choices, but this one?
Words fail me when it comes to describing it.
It features a corset-like strapless top and a voluminous skirt with an underskirt.
What truly sets it apart is the rich, handcrafted lace. I’ve never seen lace so beautiful as I’ve seen here.
Truly a work of art. The lace can be easily adorned with real flowers at the bottom of the skirt and on my corset.
It reveals the top of my chest, shoulders, and arms, but the designer is convinced we can fix this by adding a removable voile layer.
The wedding gown comes with a little tiara and a few more layers of tulle and voile that will fall from the top of my head.
Once they fasten the back of my dress, I pick up my skirt, swivel, and move around the screen so he can see me.
He has his eyes tilted down as he’s checking something on his phone when I walk in.
Alerted by my presence, he slides his phone inside his jacket and looks up.
His expression is more than telling.
This is what you want to see on the face of your future husband. That expression of awe and instant adoration.
A smile tugs at his lips as I strut in as if I’m on a runway and do a little twirl for him.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“I think this is it.”
“What about the shoulders? They said they could cover them up with a draped shawl or something.”
“I think it looks good the way it is,” he comments.
“Are you sure?”
He pushes to his feet.
“Absolutely.”
Smoothly, he closes the distance between us, leans closer to me, and whispers in my ear.
“You need to distract them, baby. All eyes need to be on you. A little outrage on their part will work, too.”
He straightens and looks at me, a smile buried in his eyes.
“And other than that?”
“Other than that? This is the dress I want you to wear for our wedding,” he says, and before I could react, he lifts his hand and signals to the designer. “We’ll take this one. And also pack the other two, just in case a spare one is needed.”
He turns to me.
“You never know,” he murmurs, winking at me softly, and I barely suppress my impulse to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.
LEILANI
New York
The day before the wedding
Our rental is on the North Shore of Long Island.
It’s a large property––he hasn’t spared a dime––and it’s not far from my childhood home.
The wedding will take place in Manhattan, where––he eventually confessed to me––De Rossi’s men will ensure our safety inside the church. At the same time, Killian Diamond brings reinforcements from Chicago, where he reigns like a king, and offers a line of defense outside the church.
I met Rory yesterday.Outside the house.In a nearby town, with Callum waiting in a car in front of the coffee shop where his men sat at a few tables while she and I chatted for a few minutes.
The security was tight, and we couldn’t speak much or truthfully.
All I could say to her was that things would be all right, and she’d be better off if she didn’t attend the church ceremony.
She agreed to it, but I could tell she was disheartened by the whole story.
Today we made the last preparations before Callum and I had dinner.
We sleep in separate rooms at his request.
He said it was better that way.
But as I look at the beautiful lights dangling from the trees in front of our house, I feel his presence in the room.
He stops behind me and slides his arm around my waist before leaving a kiss on my head.
“How are you?” he asks, hidden in the dark.
I slide my hand over his.
“I’m fine. A bit nostalgic.”
“So am I,” he admits, holding me against his chest, looking out over my shoulder. “We had a great time together,” he says seriously in the voice he once used when he was making me think he was nothing more than an insufferable, calculated man.
“Let’s hope this won’t be the end.”
“It won’t be the end. Although things won’t be like this either.”
“How will they be?” I ask.
“Better.”
“You think?”
“I’m convinced.”
“There won’t be more of 'meeting you' in secret,” I say.
“I’m afraid not,” he says, amused.
“I loved meeting you in secret.”
“I loved that, too.”
A few moments pass.
“Any news from my grandparents?”
“No. We haven’t spoken since we met in Taormina. But they’re here. They have guests. Your aunt and her husband stay with them.”
“My aunt. Right. For sure, they haven’t missed me.”
He doesn’t comment. What else is there to say?
I don’t want to think about them anymore.
But sadly, I do.
“What if they won’t like how things turn out tomorrow?”
“They’ll have to like it. It’s no longer up to them.”
I mull over his words.For sure, they’ll resent him and hate me.
“They’ve never been on your side,” he reminds me.
“I know that.”
A shudder goes through me, and it has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
“All right,” he murmurs. “Go get some rest now. I’ll be downstairs for a while with my men.”
I nod without turning, trying to hide how overpowered I am by some old emotions.
And then listen to his footsteps as they trail across the floor and move down the stairs.
Once he’s gone, I let my emotions flow freely, experiencing deep sadness.
Sadness I never thought I’d still harbor.
It’s been a long road from that moment of dark desperation when I knew things were wrong in my life.
When everyone close to me abandoned me.
When I couldn’t seem to find a way to fix things for myself.
When, other than Nona, who was suffering in silence, no one had cared about what would happen to me.
You’d think that all this time I’ve been away, someone in my family would think about what happened, maybe reconsider things, and have a moment of regret.
None of that happened.
Their lives unfolded as they always had.
Their thoughts never changed.
They never considered that I might not have deserved this.
They had a job to do.
Be a parent to my mother.
Teach her how to be my mother.
And they failed.
And even when life pointed to all the things they’d done wrong, they still glanced away, unfazed.
Still having a lump of tension in my throat, I turn around and go through the motions, trying to get to sleep.
An hour later, I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes blank, anxious and angry as I’ve never been before.
It’s probably the fact that I’m so close to a resolution, and regardless of what happens tomorrow, this story won’t go away.
It will stay with me forever.
No length of time spent with Callum can erase the memories of two decades spent with them.
I twist and turn for another half an hour before I climb out of bed, put my slippers on, and head to the door, wearing only my pajamas. Shorts and a camisole.
Without turning on the light, I find my way to Callum’s room, push the door open, and slip in like a ghost.
He’s still downstairs.
I drop my slippers next to his bed and slide under the covers before pressing my nose into his pillow and inhaling the faint aroma of his aftershave.
I love this man.I love him with all my heart.And with that thought, I fall asleep.
I don’t know how much time has passed.A few minutes? An hour?
All I know is that a hard, naked body slides behind me, and a strong hand reaches inside my top.
It moves smoothly up my front and cups a soft breast before reaching inside my shorts and palming my sex.
“What are you doing here, Lani?” he asks, stroking me gently.
I smile.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“And you thought I could be of help to you?”
He seems amused.
I look at him over my shoulder.
“I wanted you to make love to me one last time before the wedding.”
She flashes a crooked smile.
“For good luck.”
“Yes, for good luck.”
“All right,” he drawls. “Look away. You know I’m shy,” he jokes, and we both laugh.
I peer out the window while he continues his exploration. Fingers moving over my clit. Fingers kneading my breasts. Fingers wrapping around his erection before he slowly enters me, moving through a pool of wetness.
He pushes my shorts down as much as he can.
“We did everything backward,” I murmur, enjoying the soft throbbing between my legs.
“You mean having the weeding night before the wedding,” he says with humor again, and we chuckle quietly.
He’s in a good mood, probably happy that the waiting has come to an end.
He’s a man of action, and threading these past few weeks carefully despite enjoying the rewards––mainly our heated affair––it’s been a test for him too.
“I never thought you’d be so funny.”
“I can’t fathom what’s given you that false impression,” he says with self-deprecating humor.
And then we go quiet, and he kisses my shoulder and kneads my chest while moving into me, giving me the addictive memories that help me forget everything else.