Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Liana
Morning doesn’t just come for me…it crashes into me like a freight train. No amount of sleep in the world could truly have prepared me for this day.
A sharp knock at my door startles me from my half awake state, making me groan out loud.
Apparently the world has decided it’s done letting me hide under the covers.
I’m barely up before my heart is pounding, my nerves twisting in the pit of my stomach while I shove the blanket off and force myself to stand.
I’m maybe halfway across the room, when the door swings open, making me jump.
“Mija, what are you doing still sleeping?” Pita asks, a slight edge of panic to her voice. “There is still so much to do and the guards are waiting for you already downstairs!”
She takes a long look at me and wrinkles her nose before heading into my bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and before I have time to react she’s dragging me to the bathroom and stripping off my clothes before pushing me inside.
“It’s cold!” I shriek as she closes the door.
“It might wake you up, then. You look tired. Did you sleep at all?”
“Barely,” I whine out as I lather my body with soap.
I hear her tsk as she stands outside of the shower, clearly not caring about my privacy right now. I should probably get used to it. This is probably the last bit of privacy I’ll have before the cartel heir forces me to abide by my duties.
“You wouldn’t sleep either if you were being married off to a stranger,” I snap out.
I hear Pita chuckle which only annoys me more.
“Oh, mija. You really don’t know how lucky you are. It could be much worse.”
I scoff at her words and shut the shower off. When I swing the door open, she’s waiting for me with a towel.
“I was sent away from my family to marry a man who hasn’t even cared enough to meet me before our wedding. I’ve had interactions with exactly two people the entire time I have been here and now one of them has disappeared and….”
“And what, mija?”
I can see the look on her face as she stares at me. It looks like pity and I hate that.
“Nevermind.”
She places her hand on my shoulder as I stare at her in the mirror and even though her eyes look sad, a small smile forms on her lips.
“One day, Liana, we are going to look back and laugh at this moment together.”
“You think?”
“I know,” she replies before wiping the few tears I didn’t know I had. Then she gestures to the button up dress she’s laid out for me to wear to the church.
The church swallows me whole. It’s massive, with its high arched ceilings and huge stone walls.
I can hear the echo of my footsteps bouncing from every direction.
Tall candles burn in fat iron sconces that look like they came straight from some medieval time jump.
If I weren’t so nervous, I might actually find it kind of beautiful.
Unfortunately, at this moment, every inch of this place is too much.
Before I can even try to figure out where to go, I’m pushed up a winding staircase, higher and higher until my legs are screaming.
“I didn’t know I would need to practice cardio for my wedding day,” I mutter under my breath.
‘Unless it’s to run away.’
The guard behind me snickers and for a moment I’m afraid I said the running part out loud.
It doesn’t matter because a door in front of me is opening just as I reach the top of the staircase, and I’m being pulled into a large room with lots of windows.
Sunlight shines through huge windows casting beautiful rays throughout the room.
It’s almost peaceful, how beautiful it looks.
That lasts about two seconds before the stylists attack all at once.
It’s absolute chaos as they descend on me, chattering away just like they did the last time I saw them.
Their hands are everywhere as pins are stuck into my scalp and powder is caked onto my skin.
The fabric of my dress is pulled so tight, I can barely breathe.
I try to keep still, but all I can see are mirrors surrounding me everywhere and it makes me want to look.
There must be a dozen of them, each one reflecting a beautiful stranger.
I don’t even recognize myself right now.
A perfect bride stares back at me. The dress fits well…
too well. My makeup is flawless, making me look and feel like something exotic. My stomach flips.
“Beautiful,” one of them says.
“No, look at her,” another voice, whispers. “She’s breathtaking. A true queen fit for a king.”
"Rio won’t know what hit him,” the last one says as they all giggle.
I smirk as I stare at myself, not hating what I see. The name Rio registers in my head a moment later, making my smirk disappear. I am boxed up and gift-wrapped for a man I’ve never even met and I’m over here smiling about it.
And then there’s Frankie. His face comes out of nowhere, assaulting my thoughts.
Will I ever see him again? Why did he leave?
Why isn’t he here? He isn’t here. He isn’t here, but I am…
and so is Rio. Rio Sanchez, the man I’m supposed to marry today.
The one with a reputation built on violence and power among other things.
I can still hear the stylists whispering and giggling about him while I stand here.
Clearly still a playboy even as I stand here today, waiting to marry him.
The thought of it makes my skin crawl, but there’s nowhere else to go.
My head spins as I lean against the window, watching the world outside.
The courtyard is full of guards and guests…
lots of guests. They arrive by the carload, ushered from their expensive vehicles right inside the church below.
I try to search for my family but see no one.
My stomach sinks and I’m about to lose it completely when the door slams open, making me spin around.
“Andre.”
His name is out before I know it, my voice breaking with relief. I don’t care how desperate I sound because he’s here. My cousin is here and suddenly I’m clinging to him, stammering out words so fast I can barely keep track of what I’m saying. He pulls me back, gripping me tight.
“Liana, stop for a second. Take a breath. I need to talk to you quickly before we get downstairs. That guard who was watching you isn’t who you think he is.”
I look at him with confusion but don’t get a chance to respond before guards barge in looking annoyed. One is holding a bloody nose and speaking into his phone.
“Step back from her. Now,” one of them says with authority.
His voice is flat, like he’s used to being obeyed. Unfortunately for him, my cousin does not obey. Instead, Andre pushes me behind him and crosses both arms over his chest, taking up a wide stance.
“Make me,” he says with a small smirk.
The guard with the bloodied nose growls out as he stalks forward.
“Stop,” the other one says. “Santiago says he can stay.”
“Who the fuck is he?”
“I’m Andre Manitellie. Her cousin. And I’m walking her down the aisle.”
He says it slowly, like he’s daring them to argue with him.
“Clean up this mess,” he gestures to the blood dripping all over the floor with disgust as he laces his fingers through mine and pushes past them, pulling me behind.
“Asshole,” one of them mutters and I look back to find both of their eyes lingering on him as though marking him for later.
Andre doesn’t give them another glance. He turns to me instead, his gaze softening as he offers me his arm.
“Come on,” he murmurs gently, guiding me downstairs.
My mind is a mess, tangled with panic and confusion and the next thing I know, we’re at the foot of the church doors.
“What were you trying to tell me earlier?” I ask as he pulls my veil over my face.
He doesn’t have time to respond because the doors open with a heavy groan, and just like that, the world detonates around me.
The music starts and I’m met with so many faces staring at me that I suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed.
The sound of hundreds of gasps ripple out like a shockwave, making my own heartbeat pound so hard I can barely hear anything else.
I feel Andre move forward guiding me with him as I keep my eyes cast down.
I can’t look at all of these people. I can’t look anywhere else but down.
The idea of looking up, of seeing what’s waiting at the end of that aisle, is too much. I can’t do it yet.
“It’ll be okay,” he whispers, and I realize I’m gripping onto him like my life depends on it. I sneak a look at his face, through my veil, noticing the seriousness in his eyes.
“I swear,” he says. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I want to believe him, mostly because I think he believes himself. But deep down I know, no matter how close my family is, I’m on my own with all of this. Unless I run…and I know I won’t do that now either. We reach the altar and Andre kisses both of my cheeks before letting me go.
Every inch of me locks up as I climb. I keep my eyes down, watching each step before reaching the top and stopping. A quick glimpse of the priest who gestures for me to turn towards my new husband and then I’m looking down again.
He isn’t having it though. A tattooed hand slides under my veil, gripping my chin and guiding my face up. My eyes flick to a set of green emeralds and my heart stops.
Rio Sanchez stands in front of me, his tux hugging his body perfectly. He looks like sex and sin and every woman’s dream. Only this isn’t Rio to me. The datura tattoo ripples along his neck as he swallows.
‘Frankie.’
I gave myself to this man. Willingly. I gave him my innocence not knowing it was his to take anyway…and he let me believe it was my choice all along.
“Hello, Datura.”
His voice comes out thick and raspy as he calls me by my nickname with no hesitation at all. A small smirk plays across his lips. Everything drops out from under me all at once. My heart shatters, shock and horror ricochet through me.
‘Frankie is Rio.’
He lied to me about everything. He used me. And now he’s here, standing in plain sight, switching identities like he’s just changing his jacket. Like he didn’t just unravel my entire existence. I say nothing. I don’t think I could respond to him even if I wanted to.
The priest starts speaking but I don’t hear what he’s saying.
All I can focus on is Frankie’s face. He’s calm, but in his eyes, there’s something else I can see.
Guilt? Regret? Maybe I’m just wishful thinking.
Honestly, I don’t even care. The more I replay our interactions, the worse I feel.
Anger doesn’t even come close to what is stirring inside of me.
There’s a hurricane brewing, just waiting to be unleashed.
Every good memory of him has been poisoned by this moment.
My fists clench at my sides. For a second, I imagine running.
I could do it. I could run.
But I refuse to give him the satisfaction. So instead, I pull myself together. The scriptures being read are a blur but I stand there anyways. I answer the priest’s questions verbatim.
“Have you come here freely and without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?
“I have.”
‘Bullshit.’
“Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and to honor each other for as long as you both shall live?”
“I am.”
‘I might kill him, though.’
“Are you prepared to accept children lovingly from God and to bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?
“I am.”
‘I’ll chop it off if he comes anywhere near me.’
Before I know it, a ring is being slid onto my finger and I’m handed one to slide on his.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen.”
It’s just one word, but I force it out steadily.
I don’t even flinch as he lifts my veil and slowly reveals my face.
I see the uncertainty in his eyes when he notices my anger.
He’s never seen me like this. Hell, I’ve never seen me like this.
He pulls me towards him and my body betrays me as it molds into his perfectly. I scowl, internally kicking myself.
“Forgive me, Datura,” he whispers, so low only I can hear. Then he kisses me hard, not giving me a chance to respond. Not that I would.
Applause explodes around us. Everyone else in here is excited and yet, all I can think about is revenge. How badly I want to make him pay for what he’s done to me. He played me, and for what? I’m not even sure.
We both turn and walk back down the aisle together. He keeps his arm laced with mine tightly. He thinks I want to run. No, I don’t.
‘I’m going to make him miserable,’ I think to myself, a smile plastered on my face. ‘He’s going to regret ever crossing me.’