Chapter 8
Fia
As they walked down the aisle and we all stood clapping, Zoltán vanished.
I should’ve been glad.
But I looked around for him when I should have been looking for Imre.
“Yes, that will do,” Everly said at my side, on her tiptoes, looking around Luca’s shoulder. “Book two rooms.”
Taller than her, I could see easily. It was a hotel with a pool and spa. Nowhere near as grand as this secluded fairy tale mansion.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I told you.”
I could disappear as quickly as Zoltán. The only thing I wanted to do was to run to a bathroom and call Mum and Dad to come and pick me up. But this was my chance to see Nagyi, and who knew how many of those I would have left?
Everly raised her brows at me. “I’m feeling your betrayal for you. You do understand that’s what this is, right? Your father just got married. Your screw knew and didn’t tell you. They’re not people I want to be around if they can do this to you.”
I breathed in, knowing she was right.
I had every right to feel angry, but I just felt defeated.
“You’re not going to go anywhere near him again, are you?” Everly asked. She wasn’t the type to forgive or forget.
“Who said I ever did?”
Luca coughed into his fist, and Everly scoffed.
“Don’t insult us,” she chided. “The sexual tension between the two of you is thicker than this forest.”
Luca’s cough became a choke.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I repeated.
“At least go and get changed,” she said. “The taxi driver put our luggage to the side. We can find a room. Any room at this point. I don’t care if we end up in the honeymoon suite.”
“I’ll change in the toilet,” I said, and thought about the chaos of my clothes in my suitcase.
Since I was most definitely no longer going on a two-day retreat with Zolt, I could wear anything inside.
I saw her before she saw me.
Nagyi.
She was standing beside the terrace, talking to the elder women who had glared at me earlier for good reason.
For how small she was — shorter than Everly — she seemed much taller than I remembered. Her light shawl around her shoulders was patterned in reds and oranges, matching her burgundy dress.
My stomach twisted. I didn’t know how to approach. If I should.
When she turned, her eyes locked with mine as if she knew exactly where I stood.
Her eyes softened — not in pity or shock but in recognition.
And she moved fast.
Lifting the length of her dress, champagne glass in hand, she rushed over in her sandals, and I didn’t realise it, but I was as hurried.
“Zsófia?”
My name in her voice — my full name with all of that Hungarian warmth — nearly undid me.
She wasn’t the same as before, but she was wholly her, and when she wrapped her arms around my middle, I breathed in her honey scent and had to breathe through my mouth to stop the tears.
After all of today’s betrayals, my faith in my mascara was minimal.
“Nagyi,” I said and held her back.
“How are you?” she asked, holding my arms so gently, as if she wanted me to have the room to pull away. I wanted her to keep me here.
“I’m… I’m okay,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know — I didn’t know it was their wedding. I didn’t even know he was in a relationship.”
She nodded and sighed, looking behind me. “He so desperately wanted you here. He’s not always made the best decisions regarding you, but… he wanted today to be perfect. It isn’t without you.”
My body jerked with the sob I had to contain.
Imre was her only son. I was his only daughter. We were a family of three.
“His wife is so lovely, Zsófia,” she said and reached up as high as she could to brush my cheek. “You will love her and — and working together means you might be able to see him for who he is.”
I nodded and hugged her again.
A loud voice boomed, “Family members, gather over here, please!”
Nagyi sniffed and then smiled brightly, her voice brimming with pride, “That means you, too.”
And, for today, I wouldn’t fight it.
Imre was walking over to the arch again, where some chairs had now been moved for the photos. The bride was laughing, her bouquet clutched to her chest.
And I saw Zoltán, frozen in place, looking at me.
He didn’t vanish hard enough.
Shame.
The photographer snapped some candid shots of the bride and then waved over the group by Zolt. “Benedek? Zoltán? The bride’s sons first, then the groom’s side.”
I stopped. The world didn’t.
Nagyi was a step in front of me, her dainty hand slipping from mine as she moved forward.
The air was charged with a deep buzz as everything continued for everyone else. The champagne kept flowing, photos kept snapping, and friends kept laughing.
But I was unwell.
I couldn’t have heard her right. Zoltán wasn’t the bride’s son.
He would have told me.
He would have known.
My glass trembled, and I had a fleeting moment where I was proud of myself for keeping it together. It hadn’t smashed, it wasn’t broken, and neither was I.
Zoltán’s expression was.
He looked over, mouth open as if he was about to call his excuse or apology across the entire wedding. But his brother clapped him on the back, leading him to the arch.
I’d told him this was my father’s wedding. He hadn’t denied it. He’d wanted me to come. How long had he known this was going to happen? Before or after that night on the cliff?
Nagyi asked me if I was okay, and I swallowed my bile, managed to nod, and walked further down the aisle to where his smile was strained, his eyes on mine.
We took photos as separate families — his and mine.
I tried to look comfortable, happy, but my grin was fake for all to see, even when Dad hugged me and thanked me for coming.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really wanted you here and—”
“It’s okay,” I told him, even if it wasn’t. “Just… if you want a relationship with me, tricking me into this isn’t going to get you far. I value honesty.”
He nodded and squeezed me tight. “I’m just so glad you came.”
And when we took our photo together, I didn’t cringe at his touch. My chest felt tight, but I smiled and tried to add warmth.
“Right,” the photographer said, gesturing with her hands. “Couple in front. Zoltán, in the middle at the back. You two on either side.”
Great. I stood inches away.
She gestured for us to get in closer, and I groaned before doing so.
“Look like you like each other!”
I fucking hated this monster next to me.
Zoltán snuck his arm around my waist and pulled me in. “Play happy families.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I snapped.
“But you enjoy it so much.”
Oh my god, I was going to slash his tyres before the next race. Every tyre at the Australian track. It might take me a few days, but I would do it.
Benedek side-eyed me before dragging his gaze to his brother.
I felt my face flush.
How much did he know?
“Bathroom,” I hissed the second the photographer dismissed us. “Now.”
He followed me into the house, smiling and waving at passers by like walking beside his step-sister at a family occasion was absolutely normal and nothing peculiar in the slightest.
“Where are the suitcases?” I asked, looking at the bare foyer. Well, bare if not for the hundreds of flowers.
If I had to stay in this white dress, the frustrated tears were going to overflow, and I refused to cry in front of this man.
“Probably taken up to your room.”
I gestured to the stairs, and he sighed. “Come on then,” he said. I followed him up and down one of the corridors of rich, dark wood.
“This one’s mine,” he said, pointing to a door. “And this one is yours.”
“What a coincidence that we’re next to each other,” I groaned. It had sounded fun at first, but now it was a curse.
“I mean, it’s my house, so I did have a bit of sway.”
I stopped short because, of course, that was the case — why hadn’t I considered that sooner?
My suitcase was just beside the door, and I threw it onto the bed, unzipped it, and started sorting through the chaos for a backup dress.
“Going to put some underwear on?”
That was a bloody good point. I pulled the first thong I found up under my dress.
Zolt sat on my bed, pouting out his bottom lip.
I was going to throw the next pair at his arrogant face.
No. He’d probably like that. He’d probably frame them.
Nothing in this suitcase was going to work. I needed Everly’s.
I pulled out a long red dress with cut-out sides and pressed it up against me. Zolt screwed up his nose.
“Not that one,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not very you.”
It was my sister’s.
“And it would mean you have to take those panties right off again.”
I hated that he was right.
I threw it down, trying not to groan aloud.
When I pulled out an emerald silk skirt and black top, he cocked his head from side to side. “It’s not giving wedding, is it?”
“I didn’t know it was a fucking wedding when I packed, did I? Someone didn’t tell me that little detail, did they?”
He lifted a hand. “Okay. That was deserved.”
“You deserve a whole lot more.”
He shrugged, and when I pulled out a pink mini-dress with a halterneck, he stood. “That one.”
If I had any other option, I would refuse to wear it just to disagree with him. But I didn’t.
“You’re not here for fashion advice,” I almost snarled, eyeing my shoe collection to see what would match. I’d have to go with my current white heels.
He pointedly looked around the room, lips turned down. “What am I here for then?”
That was a good point. I’d thrown him in this room — the room I’d told him to crawl into to ravish me — and was about to strip. I wasn’t exactly questioning him, armed with Everly’s cocktail sticks.
“You’re here to help me get out of this dress and then answer my questions.”
There wasn’t a bra under the white silk, so I turned and gestured at the zipper. I was expecting some retort or sleazy throwaway line, but he did it without a word.
Did he know? When he unzipped my jacket and kissed down my spine, did he already know we’d end up like this?
When I kept my back to him and shimmied out of the dress, he said, “You forget I’ve already had my mouth on every inch of you.”