24. Chapter 24
Rosalina
The spa was incredible. Claudia and I spent the day getting all the most luxurious, relaxing treatments done, but under it all, in the deepest part of my belly, all was in turmoil.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the reality of the situation.
My father wanted to ensure his organization had a future, which I understood to some extent, but there was plenty of time for that.
He could hand leadership off to someone else.
It didn’t have to be a blood relative. He was worried about my safety, but I was fine.
I could handle myself. There was no reason this wedding had to happen.
As the nail technician poked at my fingers, Claudia peeled a cucumber slice from her eyes. “Rosie, she asked you a question.”
I shook my wandering thoughts away. “I’m sorry, what?” I tried to soften my tone, but it came out more harshly than I’d intended.
The woman smiled and patted my hand. “That’s all right. Wedding day jitters and all that, I understand. I asked what color you wanted your nails, hun?”
“Oh, I’m not… I mean… I don’t care.” I’d never considered it.
I wasn’t one of those girls who had her wedding planned out since childhood, although right now I wish I had, because then, at least I’d have an answer.
Claudia leaned over to look at the selection. “What does your ring look like? That could help. Or your dress.”
I shrugged, starting to feel awkward about this whole thing.
How could they expect me to choose a nail polish color when I didn’t even want any part of this farce to begin with?
They weren’t going to let it go, so after a second of thought, I replied.
“Red, so when I gouge out Lorenzo’s eyes, the blood will match. ”
The nail tech’s brows shot up, and her eyes darted around nervously.
Claudia choked and forced a laugh, shooting me a withering look. “Rosa, you’re so funny. Don’t joke like that, though. You’re scaring people.”
The technicians working on Claudia’s toes and nails shifted uneasily in their seats.
I was a fucking menace, apparently.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just kidding. Red’s my favorite color,” I hedged, trying to smooth things over with the staff. They deserved an extra big tip for dealing with the crazy I was bringing today.
“Red looks nice on you,” Claudia agreed, carrying on with pleasant small talk. “I could never pull off a deep red like that. It clashes with my skin tone, but it looks so nice on you.”
The nail tech started on Claudia’s pale, French-tipped gels.
They suited her. I had other things on my mind, though, so I sat back and let the women finish in peace.
I was awful to be around today, everyone would be better off if I kept silent.
Once our nails were set, another team arrived to do our hair and makeup.
Deep blood-red lips to match my nails and a classic warm brown smoky eye to complement the loose tendrils framing my face and the red and white flowers they’d pinned into my dark hair.
Claudia’s pale blond tresses were set in a soft updo too, but her makeup was lighter to match her lighter complexion.
From the spa, we were shown to the bridal suite to finish getting ready for the claiming ceremony.
In other circumstances, this would have been the perfect day.
A beautiful beach resort with fantastic staff.
Mimosas with Claudia and an entire day of relaxation and pampering, but as the sun slipped across the sky, my heart sank with it.
Sunset was fast approaching, and anxiety burned in the back of my throat.
It was time to get dressed, but I wasn’t ready. I paced along the balcony as Claudia watched from the long vanity with worry creasing her brow.
“Rosie, it’s going to be okay.”
Gripping the neck of my silk robe closed, I turned to her. She couldn’t save me from this. She was trying to offer support, but I needed a moment to breathe. “I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go get my dress.”
“Your dress is…” Claudia’s words trailed off as I rushed out of the room.
It was a stupid excuse. My dress was probably hanging in the changing area that I’d just left behind. Which was almost certainly what Claudia was trying to tell me when I so rudely ducked out on her.
I pushed through the double doors into the hallway. Cruz was standing, head cocked, and eyebrow raised in question.
“Ugh!” Was there nowhere private in this whole place? I grumbled and marched away, holding my robe closed.
I stopped abruptly and spun around. Cruz was following close behind and just barely avoided running into me. “Bodyguard. Where’s my room?”
I prayed someone had been considerate enough to book a hotel room for me, even if I did spend the entire day at the spa.
I didn’t want to think about the honeymoon suite where I’d be expected to spend the night.
It was probably in one of those beautiful bungalows down on the water.
Which would’ve been perfect if I wasn’t expected to share it with the dirty laundry pack.
“Right this way,” he smirked, leading me through the quiet halls.
Thank god for small favors. My shoulders sagged with relief. I just needed a moment of quiet solitude.
Cruz unlocked the door and handed me the key card when I brushed past him. His sandalwood and amber scent wafted over me, calming my racing heart a fraction.
Fucking fuck.
Where does he get off affecting me like that?
Everything in the room glowed a mellow pink in the fading light from the huge windows. The corner of my bag peeked out from behind the bed, but it was moving. A rustling of fabric drew me further into the hall where I found Lorenzo hunched over in his polyester tuxedo, rummaging through my luggage.
“Isn’t it bad luck to see a bride before the wedding?” I asked with exactly as much venom as intended.
He paused his pillaging, eyes trailing over my body in a sickeningly slow perusal, leaving a greasy trail of filth in its wake. I didn’t want him looking at me in this tiny robe any more than I wanted him going through my things.
“Well, well, well. I didn’t think you’d be here, but now I’m glad I came,” he said, straightening from his position bent over my suitcase.
“What are you doing in my room, Lorenzo?” My eyes darted around, trying to figure out what nefarious scheme he was hatching.
The bathroom light was on, and my bottles of suppressants and scent-blockers were on the counter. My eyes narrowed, and I leaned in through the door for a closer look. The bottles were empty, and the toilet was running like it’d been recently flushed.
“What did you do?” I snarled, running back into the bedroom.
A smile danced in Lorenzo’s skid mark colored eyes. “You won’t need any of that garbage anymore. Not when you’re mine. Quite the opposite, actually. I was just making sure it was all disposed of before your luggage was moved to the honeymoon suite.”
“What right do you have to take that choice from me?” I squared up to him, puffing my chest out in rebellion.
“I’ll be your husband and pack alpha. That’s what right I have. You need to check your attitude. Or maybe you need some manners beaten into your entitled ass.” The back of his hand came flying through the air, smacking me in the face.
My vision blurred, and for a moment, I was stunned, but I wasn’t going to take that shit from him, or anyone.
I lunged for the ceramic lamp on the nightstand, curling my fist over the neck and swinging it around, smashing it against his head.
He never saw it coming and didn’t even attempt to block it, but his arm was in motion, and before I had a chance to react, his palm made contact with my cheek again, harder this time, knocking my head sideways.
I crumpled to the floor, my ears ringing and black spots flecking my vision.
A crash splintered the air behind me, and a blur of movement caught me off guard. There was no time to react. Cruz had Lorenzo pinned by the throat against the wall. His beady little eyes bugged out as he gasped for air.
“Did you think my position as her bodyguard was an empty title? I don’t mind showing you your error, in excruciating detail,” Cruz snarled in Lorenzo’s face.
That was the last thing I heard before I dragged myself off the floor. Clutching the front of my robe, I dashed out of the room, my ears still ringing from the impact. That little fuck hit me. There was no way I was marrying him or joining his pack.
Fuck my dad. He’d have to find another way to deal with the Morenos because this was not happening.
How dare he fuck with my bodily autonomy? I blinked back the unwelcome pooling of tears in my eyes.
What the fuck?
Seething, I raced back through the blessedly empty halls to the bridal suite. I didn’t have any clothes—my sweats were probably still back at the spa where we’d changed—and I hadn’t thought to grab anything else while I was brawling with my ex-fiancé.
When I rushed in, Claudia jumped to her feet, her pretty pink dress swishing around her ankles.
“There you are. We need to hurry. The ceremony is in”—she glanced at the clock—“fifteen minutes.”
“Claud, I can’t do it. I just can’t,” I said, rushing behind the dressing screen and searching for literally anything to put on other than this flimsy silk robe.
There was my dress, tucked securely in its cloth garment bag. As I approached, I noticed a paper card in the clear plastic pocket. In bold, embossed print, it said Mrs. Monica Vasco.
Holy fucking shit. This was their dead omega’s dress. Probably her venue and wedding date too. I fucking knew it. Can’t lose those deposits, I guess.
I didn’t have time to be appropriately outraged by the audacity, so I tore open the bag, ignoring the name card entirely.
There it was, a single yard’s worth of slinky satin.
White and nearly see-through with lace cutouts.
I might as well have been naked. That certainly wasn’t going to leave much to the imagination, but it would be better than this tiny robe with only a slippery belt holding it closed.
I pulled the gown from the hanger and stepped into it, shimmying it up over my hips.
“What is going on, Rosa?” Claudia appeared around the edge of the dressing screen, getting a good look at my face for the first time since I’d come back.
She gasped when she saw it up close. It probably looked worse than it felt, but it was hot, and radiating a dull throbbing ache up the side of my cheek and down my neck.
“Oh my god, Rosa. What happened?” She hurried to me, her brows creasing with concern.
“That fucker flushed my suppressants.” I paused to wriggle the unforgiving satin over my tits. I clawed at the zipper, but it wasn’t budging. “And he hit me, then I broke a lamp over his head.” I hopped half-heartedly, trying to jolt the dress into moving. “And then he hit me again.”
“Wait! What? Lorenzo hit you? And your suppressants are gone?” Claudia hurried around behind me. “Here, let me get that.”
“Yes—all of that. Then Cruz came in and, well, I left. I’m sure Cruz can handle himself, but there is zero chance I am getting married.
” I adjusted the neckline of the dress. It might have been pretty if it wasn’t two sizes too small, but this wasn’t about looks, this was about functionality.
I just needed something to cover myself so I could leave.
“Then why are you putting on your wedding dress?”
“I needed to get out of there, and all of my clothes were on the opposite side of two very angry alphas. This was a better option than the robe. Barely.” I looked around for shoes.
My options were slim. The white patent-leather stilettos were out—I knew how useless those would be—leaving disposable foam flip-flops from my pedicure or the flimsy white satin slippers the spa provided.
At least the slippers had some kind of sole on them.
That resolved, I slipped them on, bouncing from one foot to the other.
If only I had a gun. Too bad I hadn’t planned that far ahead.