Chapter 17
Jasmina
THE SALON INSIDE PARADISE Grove was all glass and marble and soft lighting that made everyone look like the best version of themselves. It smelled like expensive florals and the chatter from women all around felt inclusive, like I was part of a group I’d always wanted to be in.
My cousins would have loved this place.
I wanted to love it too and enjoy the fact that I was there, but instantly my concerns were the financials, my pride, and my appearance. I didn’t belong in a place like this with my blue-and-blonde hair, my crop top and jeans, and a face pretty much clear of makeup.
Buck up. It’s one time to look the part.
I sank into the chair and stared at my reflection, trying to decide when my life had shifted from survival to spectacle. Or maybe it was both, considering I had to look like the perfect stupid wife for Callahan on our wedding day.
The stylist, Lena, according to her name tag, smiled extra brightly. “So, Mr. Knight told me you’d be coming in. When’s the big day?”
I took a breath and glared at him. “Just two months away.”
“Oh my goodness.” She unwound my hair and pulled it apart, taking in the colors and the length. “Well, we can get this all cleaned up for you.”
I licked my lips and glanced at Callahan. He’d taken the chair near the window and was, of course, sitting there typing away on his laptop already.
“Right. I’m just here to make sure I don’t look like a disaster at my wedding.” I was already trying to figure out the chunk of money this was going to take out of my bank account.
She ran her fingers through my hair, assessing, lifting sections. “Want to keep the blue?”
“Mi tía would say absolutely not,” I blurted without meaning to. Yet, the truth was I could see Perla’s face still after I’d showed her my hair.
“Ah.” Lena rolled her eyes and nodded. “?Pero es tu wedding, no?” she responded.
“You speak Spanish?” A bit of anxiety at her doing my hair unraveled.
“Si. Y yo también tengo una familia muy controladora. ?Deberíamos hacer felices a tu marido y a ti en lugar de a ellos?” (And I have an overbearing family too. Should we make your husband and you happy instead of them?)
I glanced at Callahan, who didn’t seem to be paying any attention to us, and I shrugged. From there, I told her, “Quiero la azul.” (I want the blue).
She nodded, and we fell into a conversation all in Spanish about how hard it was to plan a wedding.
She told me she’d heard around Paradise Grove that I only had a few months, that it was way too much pressure, that she had contacts if I needed help.
We talked about a dress, the absurd guest list, how my aunt was already arguing over details with my cousins like they were battlefield strategists.
She was ruthless in how perfect she wanted everything.
“Well, your hair will be fabulous. I promise.” She turned me in my chair so I could see the style in the mirror. The blonde blended with the blue seamlessly, and my hair cascaded down in loose waves. “Le encantara esto.” It meant, “He’ll love this.”
“He won’t care.” I responded back in Spanish without thinking. We’d gotten so deep into the conversation that I forgot to censor myself. “It’s for everyone else. Easy classic style.”
I glanced at Callahan and couldn’t tell if his mouth twitched from what I was saying or because of something on his screen. It had to be the latter, because he didn’t understand Spanish.
Lena laughed softly. “Okay, classic bride. This is definitely soft. Polished for everyone with a bit of blue flare for you.”
She added some more curls, and every now and then, I caught Callahan watching me in the mirror. Not with irritation. But maybe more so curiosity, like he was trying to figure me out.
Or maybe he was just set on listening to me and making sure I was staying in line.
It unnerved me, his presence. It was steady in a way that I wasn’t used to. Men interrupted; my Uncle Paolo was imposing and demanding. The men I dated overcompensated.
He did none of those things. And Lena, she was well aware of him. I saw how her eyes lingered, how many of the women’s eyes lingered as they came in and talked with the other stylists and the lady at the front desk.
I saw a woman with honey-blonde hair beeline to his side to talk.
The pretty and professional Demi.
He murmured something quietly as he stood to hug her, and then he whispered something to her. She burst into laughter on his arm. It was a small interaction, but he didn’t turn to have her greet me, didn’t even look at me as he gave her all his attention.
Lena tugged a little on my hair. When I glanced up at her, she murmured, “No reacciones, chica.” It was a small bit of grace to show an outsider, especially considering I had a feeling she knew our arranged marriage situation, but it showed me a loyalty I wouldn’t take for granted.
Maybe Lena would be a friend in a world where I wouldn’t have many. I mouthed a thank you and kept my eyes on us rather than Callahan.
Lena had plans, though. She chirped out loudly, “Perfect!” as she fluffed my curls forward. “You’ll have every man wishing they were marrying you, if I do say so myself.”
I tilted my head, examining the result and willing myself not to check on Callahan’s reaction. Instead, I studied how my facial features seemed to be framed in a way that my eyes appeared bigger, the angle of my cheekbones more pronounced.
“You like?” she asked me, not Callahan, who I saw from the corner of my eye finally look away from the beautiful woman.
I smiled at Lena. “I love it. Thank you. For everything today. This will be perfect for the wedding.”
“Good.” She took out her phone. “Put in the dates you’ll need me, and if you or your family need hair done in the meantime—”
“It’ll just be me for the wedding day,” I made clear, aware that I would never be able to afford whatever she was about to charge me more than once.
Callahan kissed the woman’s cheek and told her to call him before he started to walk toward the front with us. It was wildly clear that’s what he’d said. I didn’t mishear it or imagine it.
And recalling the conversation we’d had right before we’d gotten here made his blatant planning of sleeping around even more rude. So, I couldn’t be at all held accountable for the attitude I knew I was about to have with him.
We all walked to the front together. Lena clicked a few buttons, telling us she just wanted to put in the wedding date before looking up and smiling. “You’re all set.”
“Oh, I didn’t pay you—”
She tilted her head slightly and smirked at Callahan.
He leaned on the counter. “Of course I’m taking care of my future bride. Lena, please keep an account open for the future Mrs. Knight, and hold a weekly spot for her on your calendar whenever she wants.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“It’s not about necessity when you’re with me, though. It’s about what you want from now on.” His gaze held mine, steady and unreadable.
And my body, stupid as it was, reacted. Something twisted uncomfortably in my chest like he was moving things around that he shouldn’t be.
Lena patted my hand over the counter. “I think your future husband can manage covering it, Jas.”
I heard a sound of disgust from behind me, and then Demi blurted out, “So you’re really going to do it, Cally. Marry her?”
A long silence stretched between all of us. Callahan seemed like he wanted to make something clear, though, because his hand went to the small of my back before he pulled me close. “Problem with Jasmina, Demi?”
The way he asked the question made about ten things clear all at once. Callahan wasn’t afraid to declare our relationship, he wasn’t afraid to flaunt his indiscretions, and he also was going to make it clear to everyone that he had every right to do what he wanted with all of us.
The absolutely disgusting thing was that Demi caught onto all this, searched his gaze, and immediately shook her head. “No problem at all.” She put her hand on his arm. “I’ll call you tonight.”
I hummed at her brazenness. I knew I was supposed to agree to this, was supposed to roll over and take it, and probably should have if I didn’t want to ruffle feathers.
But the words that left my lips couldn’t be held back.
“Plan on calling my future husband and plan on me answering the call, Demi.”
“Viper,” Callahan warned.
“He’s right. I am a viper. And my venom is much worse than my bite.”
I couldn’t stop the smirk that crept across my face as I saw both Demi and Lena’s mouths drop. I didn’t give Callahan the satisfaction of a glance. I turned on my heel and strode out, leaving them all behind me.
My stupidly infuriating future husband had better be following me too, or I was going to try to kill him in the car on the way home.
Welcome to life with a Ruiz.
I got to the car door again on my own. Probably because Callahan had decided he was going to kill me from afar.
He was surely pulling his pistol and contemplating how to not make a scene, but as I yanked at the handle, there was that palm of his.
It slammed into the doorframe right above my head, the force vibrating through the glass.
His chest crushed against my back, a wall of solid, radiating heat.
This time, the restraint was gone. He didn’t just turn me; he reached around, his fingers curling firmly around the column of my throat, and then he yanked me by my neck to spin me around, slamming my back against the car door with enough force to steal my breath.
Rough. Vicious. Terrifying.
The way I liked him.
He turned to a monster just the way I did when he’d had enough, but God help me, I wanted to climb him like a tree. My pulse hammered against his palm, a frantic rhythm that betrayed every ounce of my defiance. It was wrong, it was toxic, and it was completely inevitable.
He dragged his eyes slowly over every inch of me, lingering on the rise and fall of my chest before meeting my stare with eyes smoldering.
“I will sleep with Demi,” he rasped, his voice jagged against my ear, “if I damn well feel like it.”
“And I’ll gut both of you if you do,” I retorted in anger.
A dark, dangerous laugh broke from his throat. “Damn, you’re pretty when you’re murderous and mad, baby. By the way, me encanta tu pelo,” he said in perfect Spanish, and my heart almost stopped.
He’d said, “I love your hair.”
This man.
He leaned in, his scent all around me—that expensive sandalwood I was starting to crave, overwhelming my senses. “Give me a taste of that venom, Viper. I fucking need it.”
And then he dove for my lips.