Chapter 6
Francesca
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I finished drying off and wrapped the towel around my body. The bathroom—which was larger than my last apartment—was filled with hot steam from my shower. Eve and Giselle insisted I shower before getting ready to marry Stefan.
Marry.
Stefan.
That thought stuttered inside my mind. Mostly because I couldn't believe it was about to happen. In less than an hour, I was going to be Mrs. Stefan Sovrano. I shivered even though it was hot in here.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
“Are you done? We need to get your makeup on, sweetie.” Eve's kind voice floated into the still steamy bathroom. It was nice in here.
Quiet.
Warm.
I could live in here forever. Eve could leave hot cocoa and lasagna at the door every so often.
“Francesca?”
I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I opened it. The steam drifted around me and into the bedroom.
“Oh, good,” Eve said with a bright grin on her face. “I'm going to do your makeup while Giselle makes a few last touches on your dress.”
I thought about objecting, but then I realized other than the white bustier, stockings, and high, high heels—I didn't have a stitch of clothing to wear. I was going to have to borrow something. Showing up naked to marry Stefan might be frowned upon.
Eve guided me to a chair in front of a big mirror. She had a bunch of makeup and brushes laid out on the desk.
Earlier, before I had gotten into the shower, Eve handed me a pack of makeup remover sheets.
My makeup would have only been appropriate for doing such things as swinging on a stripper pole or walking the streets.
Probably not all that appropriate for a middle of the night fake wedding.
Because that was what this was. We all knew that.
It wasn't as if Stefan had asked me to marry him. He'd been told—no, forced—to marry me.
All because of my father.
All because of me.
“We have to hurry.” Eve’s eyes quickly scanned my face. I stayed still for her, not saying a word. “I promise I'll do a good job.” She looked into my eyes. “Not that you need any makeup at all. You're a natural beauty.”
My belly got all—mushy. And my heart felt kind of—weird. I wasn't sure why her words made me feel so strange. But they did.
“There'll be pictures.” Her eyes got all watery. “Pictures that you'll have for the rest of your life.” She sniffled slightly. “Pictures that you'll take out and look at many times during your marriage.” She blinked back tears. And to my surprise, I realized I was starting to get all teary, too.
Which was really, really, really stupid. Mostly because this was not a real wedding.
And even if there were pictures, it wasn't like Stefan and I would be framing them and putting them on our living room wall.
There wasn't going to be any frame. Or any wall.
Or any long-standing marriage.
Stefan would divorce me when the time was right. As soon as the threat of Raul seeking revenge was over. And then I'd go back to my crappy life of—nothing.
I couldn't go home. Not ever.
Not that I ever wanted to see my father again. And if I did happen to run into him on the street, I might just kick him where it hurts.
“I'm sorry,” Eve said in a soft voice. “I don't want to make you cry.” She gave me a wobbly grin and sniffled.
“Let's get started with your makeup. Stefan's not going to wait forever.” The smile on her face instantly fell.
Then her face crumpled. “Actually,” she grabbed me and gave me a huge hug, “he'd definitely wait forever for you.”
Her body started shaking as she cried. I didn’t know what else to do—so I hugged her back.
“He never gave up hope. They had their guys searching for you,” she cried. “Ever since the night you left.”
I gasped as she squeezed me tighter. I didn't let go of her. Because—I didn't want to. I liked the feel of her arms around me.
I liked the fact that she was emotional over—me.
And—
And—I wanted her to keep talking. I wanted to hear—
More.
More about what happened here while I was gone. While Stefan was healing.
Without me.
I wondered if he missed me.
I mean, I'd assumed he'd been mad at me for taking off without telling him. And really mad at me for calling his family to come pick him up at my crappy apartment.
Of course, that man would be angry that I'd left him. But I wanted to know if he still thought about me.
About us.
Did he dream about us tumbling around in my bed? Did he wake up thinking he was lying beside me? Naked?
Did he swear he could hear my voice calling him?
Something icy and cold shot through my stomach. Something I had to know.
But also, something that I didn't want to know.
I swallowed and said, “Did he—” my voice was croaky and foreign to my ears. “Did Stefan, um, date anyone while I was gone?” I cleared my throat as she slowly pulled away from me.