23. Ilaria
23
ILARIA
I don’t want to be here.
The realization had happened when I was in the salon chair getting my makeup done and hair styled for tonight. Or maybe it was sooner but that was the first time I really thought about it.
The faint smell of my hair getting straightened mixed with the soft powdery scent of the blush being dragged up my cheeks had me feeling dizzy as I sat being dolled up, already overwhelmed by the day that I was having.
Being with Dante had been a rollercoaster of emotions.
One minute I’d be riding a high and the next minute I’d be free falling trying to figure out what was happening as I frantically attempted to keep myself together.
My emotions couldn’t handle this.
Yet I still got ready and went to my engagement party because it was what was expected of me.
But I was at the party now and there was no escaping it.
Dressed in my white dress to play the image of the bride to be for everyone.
A glass of champagne was pressed into my hands as Tessa looked at me, a knowing look on her face.
“You looked like you needed a pick me up.” She stood beside me, a few inches taller in her heels, “I’m not going to ask why you need a pick me up at your engagement party to a man I literally watched you humping on a beach a week ago but I’m here if you want to tell me your secrets.”
There was a moment of silence and I looked up at her from where I was sitting at the bar.
Tessa had been my friend for a long time. We had gone to high school together and despite being close to all the girls in our group we could share secrets with each other that wouldn’t end up in our group message later.
“I bought my wedding dress today and checked out the venue that was booked, picked out what floral arrangements I wanted, stopped at the tailor and ordered what I wanted Dante to wear, had my thank you cards printed and went over a guest list to help with the seating chart.” I threw up the information as she stood there, sipping the drink she had handed me heavily with each task I had completed.
She didn’t chastise me about getting my dress without her. No scream like I had denied her of anything. I think she understood I hadn’t done it to be a bitch it was more of a need to go and get this thing done.
Plus, there had been this idea drifting in my mind of how my mother would have looked at me in my wedding dress and seeing anything less than her reaction to me was going to be a heartbreak that I didn’t want to face.
“Are you going to make us all wear freakin’ pastels?” She teased, avoiding the topic of my dress completely and making me remember that I had the best friends in the entire world.
“I was thinking of bringing back the trend from the 80’s where you wear a matching hat and shoes dyed in the same fuchsia as the tulle layered dress I pick out for you.”
Tessa made a hissing sound as the first real smile of the night slipped onto my face and I felt the easy way teasing could bring joy.
“It’s a real shame you didn’t take me to see your wedding dress because I’m going to have to kill you before I ever get to see you as a bride. Fucking fuchsia, really Ilaria?”
But she’s laughing with me, looping her arm into mine as she draws me close into a hug that catches me a bit by surprise.
Tessa doesn’t like to touch people like this. Hugs don’t happen with her, the most she does is dance or hold your hand but wrapping herself around someone is a big step.
It’s exactly what I need.
“So you’re the bride. All wrapped up in your pretty white dress already.”
Pale green eyes are on me as I pull out of the hug, looking at the man in front of me. He has that slim muscled build, as tall as Dante with a mess of dark curls that look wet and a suit that was tailored so well to his body it looks like it was painted on.
All black on creamy skin, several buttons left undone to show a few chains: St Christopher, a cross, a pepper, and swirls of tattoos peaking through, just asking to be touched or talked about. And this stranger knows exactly what sort of feelings he’s eliciting when he is literally dressed like a snack.
“Jesus Christ.” Tessa mumbles it so low as she drinks him in and I’m thankful for her presence because right now I don’t trust myself to not stare.
I sip the rest of my champagne, slipping my mask of a happy bride back into place and making him smile at me like he can see me putting myself back together.
“I’m Ilaria. We haven’t met before.”
It’s polite and to the point but this man is anything but polite.
Not only does he let his eyes appreciate the curves of Tessa but he cocks his head as he looks at me, eyes slipping up my legs at the soft white material slinging to me, over my shoulder that’s open and down the sleeved one.
He stares at my neck like he is imagining what his hand would look like around it before he flicks his eyes onto mine and stares so intensely that I have to look away, searching for Dante in the crowds for the first time tonight.
I can’t be around a man like this.
Dante gave off golden retriever vibes, safe and soft but this stranger he was all German Shepard, dark and filled with something that made you want to pet him even though you knew he was trained to bite.
“Francesco Luchese. I’m Dante’s best man.”
And because of course he would he lifted my hand slipping his lips over it as he maintained eye contact with me.
Fuck .
Tessa has slipped away, having sworn off men after her latest breakup. I didn’t blame her for hiding from Francesco. He was the exact sort of trouble that could ruin my life and I was in the exact sort of mood to let him.
“It seems my cousin has neglected his duties. Foolish. Someone could swoop in and steal his bride.” He said it like it was a joke but the undertones were there. He was here to swoop in and steal me.
“You’re his best man, Francesco. Shouldn’t you be watching me and making sure that I don’t do anything wrong?”
He stares at me, surprised that I was playing along with his game. Almost as surprised as I was that I was indulging this all.
The waiter passed with more champagne and I switched my empty glass for a full one.
After the day I had and how my night was going I would need as much bubbly as I could get my hands on.
“Dangerous tongue for a little queen.”
I scoff at his ludacris nickname, stepping closer as I breathed in Francisco.
Fuck .
He smells like the woods, rich and earthy, spice like cloves and black pepper, and something softer that made me want to fall against him and breathe in his skin. He smelled like bad decisions and a broken heart. It reminded me of my father, the way danger always clung to him like a heavy scent.
And it made me miss the softness of Dante’s smell.
“Your cousin says I’m a princess.”
I watch the way that Francesco licks at his lips, probably thinking about how far he could play this game with me. This teasing back and forth that he had been shocked I was giving him. Not as shocked as I was.
Another deep sip of champagne before I lost my nerve and just walked away.
“No, you’re not a princess. You’re a queen. You can see it in your eyes. You’ve seen too much. You’re too hard for that soft princess stuff.” He steps closer, taking a strand of my straightened here and wrapped it around his finger as he brought it up, breathing me in and just putting a nail in the coffin, “Unless you like to be a princess for him? Or maybe you don’t like it and are looking for someone to treat you like the-”
“I’m going to get some air.”
I push away from him, spilling some of my champagne on his clothes and earning a growl of annoyance that makes me thankful I walked away from him.
I was not the trouble maker. I was the planner. I had a plan that I worked hard for and made sure that everything was calculated and done. I was the mom friend. My friends were the ones that would cause chaos. Not me.
Where was Dante?
Why hadn’t he found me?
Oh, because he didn’t like me. Didn’t want me to reproduce with him. Didn’t want me to be anything but a…princess.
Tears were making my vision blur and I cursed under my breath as I stepped on the elevator, pressing the button to go to the roof as I turned my back to the party and took in a shaky breath as I felt the sob coming out.
My fist shoved into my mouth as I scolded myself.
Get yourself together.
“Don’t let them see you cry, Ilaria.” My back goes straight as the elevator jostles, heading up towards the roof, “Those are your tears to shed and not theirs to see.”
A handkerchief came into my vision as I dab at my eyes, sniffling out a thank you as I tremble.
It’s all just too much right now.
This was supposed to be a celebration but nothing about it made me feel like I had anything worth being happy about. If anything I was more worried than ever that Dante was a terrible idea and that I was going to have a lifetime of heartbreak.
“Dante doesn’t like me.”
“Then he’s a fool.”
The voice was so sure of himself as the doors opened, wind whipping around us as I stepped out of the elevator behind him. My hair flew in every direction as I moved closer to the edge of the building, looking over at the way people looked so small from this far away.
“I’m the fool.” I mutter, closing my eyes and opening my arms up as I try to breathe, “I wish I was a bird so I could fly away.”
A hand wraps around my neck, spinning me so I’m meeting those haunting pale eyes, watching his stare at me as I lean backwards.
I’m hanging off the edge of the building, feeling the way the wind is harder, nothing blocking it as Francesco tightens his grip around my throat, watching me as if he expects me to reach for his hand to be pulled back up.
But I won’t.
“Are you scared of anything?”
He doesn’t pull me back in, just holds me above the city like he is only here to see how far he can push me or maybe he thinks he’s holding me over the city to show me all the power Dante can hold.
Francesco is the enforcer, I can see the blood shed in the shadows of his eyes. The souls he took are hidden there just like my own fathers. Maybe that’s why I don’t fear him.
I grew up in the house of a killer so a man who had hands covered in blood touching me is like a warm embrace.
“Yes.”
The corners of his mouth pull up and I toss my head and arms back, feeling his hand tighten before he yanks me forward, my body against his as Francesco looks at me in a way that Dante never had.
He wants me.
Or at least he’s curious about me.
And it’s like a drug as I realize this. My blood pressure quickening as this man looks down at me, trying to make sense of what I am.
“I’ll find them out soon enough.” He steps away, creating distance between us as he walks back towards the elevator without looking back at me, “Be a good girl now, Ilaria. Put your pretty little mask in place and come back to your party.”
He stands, expecting me to follow as part of me yearns to lean over the roof again.
But instead I’m behind him breathing slowly to calm down my racing heart.
“Dante doesn’t know what he has.” He mutters, his eyes meeting mine on the mirrored doors. “Not a fucking clue.”
And just as I think he’s going to slam the stop button and do something about it the doors swing open and the noise of the party assaults us.
Francisco steps out leaving me with my thoughts racing.
I need another drink.