Chapter 5 Sora
SORA
Four Months Later
The months of not seeing Leo have only made the big day more anxiety-inducing.
With tomorrow looming like an ominous black cloud, my nerves hum like a piano wire, and I release a slow, steady breath as my lady’s maid lays out my garment bag for the rehearsal dinner tonight.
“Thank you, Himari-san,” I say with a smile.
“Of course, Tanaka-san. Would you like me to help you put it on?”
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have a minute alone,” I say.
“Of course. I’ll go check in with your mother, then.” With a quick bow, she shuffles from the room.
I feel miles away from civilization in one of the many guest rooms on the Chiaroscuro estate.
My family was invited to get ready for dinner here, since we just finished with the rehearsal.
The wedding will take place on their lavish terrace tomorrow.
It only made sense when their home was made to host events of this size, and now that it’s nearing the heat of summer, their gardens are a riot of color. The perfect backdrop for a momentous occasion.
Glancing at the garment bag that holds my dress for tonight, I feel a knot tightening in my stomach.
Leo sent it as a gift, but aside from in passing today, I haven’t seen him since he dunked me in the fountain at our engagement party, so my trust is at an all-time low.
If he has another nasty prank waiting for me, I don’t really want a witness when I open the present. Not even Himari.
Wiping my hands nervously on the terry cloth robe I donned after my shower, I steady my nerves as I approach the dark bag.
I wouldn’t put it past Leo to stick a snake in there after calling me a viper, so rather than open the zipper, I run my hands down the offering to check for any movement or oddly-shaped lumps.
Nothing.
I’m sure I’m being silly, and I laugh to release my nerves and the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Then I unzip the bag to reveal beautiful crimson velvet. Rather than my typical style of loose, flowing fabrics, this one feels somewhat heavy and stretchy enough that it drapes across my hands as I pull the floor-length material out of its bag.
The dress’s long sleeves look modest enough, and my racing pulse starts to calm as I realize this might actually be a peace offering after what happened.
I doubt it, but I can’t see the harm in putting on the dress he got me.
Daring to shrug out of my robe, I step into the generous opening at the neck and guide the slinky velvet up over my hips and arms.
Thankfully, it has a boat neck that sits just beneath my collar bones, covering my chest.
But the open cowl back scoops beneath the base of my spine, revealing more of me than I’m used to exposing and making it impossible to wear a bra.
Biting my lip, I turn toward the floor-length mirror to assess the dress.
It’s stunning.
Clinging to me like a glove and showing off every curve and angle, the heavy fabric has undertones of gold and midnight blue.
The softly flowing skirt flares out below my hips like a ruby waterfall, the soft fabric swaying with the slightest motion, and the thigh-high slit gives brief glimpses of my left knee and calf.
I hate to admit how much I love it, but as I turn to look at the back of the dress, I’m mesmerized by the color, the confidence it gives me, even though I’m sure my father would never approve.
Pulling my hair up, I consider the amount of bare skin I would be showcasing, and my pulse quickens.
Leo can’t seriously believe I could wear this, can he?
Maybe one of the many women he’s taken to his bed could pull it off, but not a Yakuza daughter on the night before her wedding. Even a bare knee or shoulder could be considered crude in my world.
The door bursts open without a knock, and I yelp, dropping my hair as I whirl away from my reflection, sure I don’t want my mother to catch me admiring the fine dress.
My stomach plummets.
The intruder isn’t my family at all.
It’s Leonardo Chiaroscuro.
One arm wrapped around a woman’s waist, he has the other hand pressed against the door beside her head as he pins her to it with his body. She giggles giddily at the unexpected way they fall into the room, and he chuckles darkly as he continues to devour her lips.
Her moans of pleasure as he plays hockey with her tonsils turns my blood to ice.
A fist closes around my throat as I watch in stunned silence while my fiancé makes out right in front of me less than an hour before the rehearsal dinner for our wedding.
I would be humiliated if I weren’t so shocked by the sting of rejection that brings tears to my eyes.
The burning jealousy that rises like fire up my throat mingles with the salty flavor of my unshed tears, and a strangled choke rushes from me before I can get my emotions under control. “Leo?”
He freezes, one hand firmly planted over the staff worker’s breast, the other pulling her hips more firmly against his crotch as he pauses his conquest to turn his head as if he only just realized they had an audience.
“Sora—I mean, Miss Tanaka,” he says, smirking unapologetically at using such a familiar form of address while he’s in the midst of groping another woman.
“I didn’t see you there…” His eyes trail down my body as if truly seeing me for the first time, and as he registers the dress I’m wearing, a heat flickers to life behind them that makes my blood boil.
He’s fooling around with another woman, and he has the gall to check me out in the middle of it?
“What the hell?” I demand, my composure obliterated as it takes everything in me to hold back the tears. “You’re supposed to be getting ready for our wedding rehearsal. Or did you forget?”
“Don’t worry, Princess. We still have plenty of time.” He grins wickedly as he turns his gaze back to the woman still wrapped in his arms, indicating the ‘we’ he was referring to. “I’ll be there. I’m just… savoring my last moments of freedom.”
Pain lances through me, and I wrap my arms defensively around my torso. I hate this world I was born into.
Only in the Mafia could my family sell me off to an Italian man-whore with just a contract and a marriage license, and for what? The man I’ll be given to doesn’t even want me.
I can see the misery waiting for me as plain as day, the lifetime of cruelty and betrayal, the role where my worth will be measured directly by how many heirs I can produce and how perfectly I can silently obey my husband’s commands.
I hate this life I’m trapped in.
But I can’t simply walk away.
There’s nowhere I could run to where they wouldn’t find me. I’m worth too much as a token to be traded, a commodity to be utilized. My father would no sooner let a prize horse leave his stables.
“Get out,” I whisper, my hands trembling with anger, and I fist them at my sides as I storm toward Leo.
“Oh, calm down. It’s not like you expected any different, right, Cattiva?” Leo teases playfully, but he does take a step back, pulling his woman of the hour along with him.
“It’s nice to know you can at least live up to one expectation,” I hiss. “Now do me a favor, and go screw your whore somewhere I won’t have to watch!”
Grasping the door, I slam it with such force that the artwork on my bedroom wall shudders. Then the tears come hard and fast.
I allow myself three minutes to grieve my fate before I have to pull myself together.
Because the only thing more humiliating than having to marry Leonardo Chiaroscuro is crying over him.
Yes, he’s gorgeous. And smart. And capable of being incredibly charming—to everyone but me, it would seem.
But he’s determined to punish me simply because he would rather screw his way through half of Chicago than marry me, and I’m starting to dread this ‘living hell’ of a marriage he’s prepared for me.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I march into the bathroom to splash water on my face, and by the time I’ve rinsed the salty tears away, I’ve reclaimed my iron grip on my self-control. I won’t let him break me. I refuse to be a part of Leo’s games.
As soon as I think the word, I get the intense sense that he burst in on me with that woman on purpose.
Maybe he’s still trying to make me back out of the wedding. If so, he failed. I won’t back down.
My family has too much on the line. Their survival—and mine—rests squarely on my shoulders.
“Sora?” my mother calls gently from my borrowed room.
I quickly pat my face dry, glad that I’ll be wearing makeup to hide any residual proof that I was crying. “Coming,” I say, stepping back out of the en-suite bathroom to meet her.
“Where did you get that?” she asks, her eyes widening as she takes in the crimson velvet that clings to my curves like a glove to a hand.
“Oh, um…” Heat floods my cheeks as I look down at the form-fitting dress. “Leonardo sent it up. It’s a present—but I can take it off. I know it’s inappropriate,” I add quickly when I see the disapproval written across her face.
My mother’s lips press into a flat line, but she shakes her head. “No, if it’s a present, you must accept it. I just wish these Italians had a bit more… class.”
I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to stay quiet because, as mad at Leo as I am, I do actually love the dress. But saying so would only alienate me from my mother.
“Well, we’ll have to leave your hair down tonight,” she says. “At least that will cover some of your back.” She nods to the vanity so we can get started on my makeup. Then her eyes fall on the black velvet box sitting there. “Another gift from your betrothed?”
“I haven’t opened that one yet,” I admit, my cheeks warming further.
She gestures for me to do so, and my pulse quickens as I brace for another potential catastrophe.
Breath caught in my chest, I pick up the box that’s roughly the size of my palm and slowly open it.
My mother’s soft gasp echoes my own.
“Well, at least he has good taste in jewelry,” she says, running her finger over the cushion that surrounds the ruby clusters.
The variety of pear- and marquise-cut gems are large enough to guarantee they cost a fortune and have been set into an elegant asymmetrical design intended to curve along the shells of my ears.
They catch even the dim bedroom light, dancing like flames.
They’re the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received, and it makes my chest ache.
How can Leo treat me so monstrously and then give me a gift like this?