Saved: a dark romance Page 19

“Who was that?” I ask.

  “El fucking Diablo.” He throws himself back against the pillows and closes his eyes.

  “The devil?”

  “The horned one himself,” he mutters and lifts the corner of the blanket. He has one eye open, looking at me, holding the blanket up in the air.

  I climb into the bed, into the welcoming-looking spot he’s got open for me, and ignore the not-welcoming look on his face. I snuggle in.

  He pulls me close and goes back to sleep with his nose buried behind my ear.

  ***

  The phone is ringing again, but not the same ring as ‘El Diablo’.

  He answers groggily, “Hello.”

  I hear what sounds like a female ranting and raving.

  “Yep,” he says. He’s passing me the phone. My head is on his chest.

  It says “DF” on the screen.

  “Hello?” I greet and go to sit up but he grabs my hair and keeps me to him. It stings a little until I go lax. His hand relaxes. And that’s sweet that he doesn’t want me to move away.

  Or, maybe he wants to hear what I say. I’ll choose to believe he wants me close.

  “Holly? Holly! You okay?” It’s my sister and her voice is about three octaves higher than usual.

  “Hey Ang. Yeah, all’s well, no worries. Where are you guys?”

  “In Vegas. Where are you?”

  “We’re here, too. We’re still in bed,” I say.

  There’s silence.

  “So, you’ll be at the wedding at four?” I ask.

  “Holly…” There’s disapproval in her voice, “You do not have to ---”

  I cut her off, “Alessandro’s still working out the details, I think, but I’m pretty sure it’s at four. I’ll make sure we get those details to you.”

  “You don’t have to do this. Let’s meet. Tell him I’m taking you to get your hair done or something and we’ll go. Take off.”

  “What? Don’t be silly.”

  “Silly? Silly? Tell me where you are. I’m fucking getting you out of here. He’s dangerous!”

  Dare is suddenly on the phone.

  “Hey Holly. You okay?”

  Angie is ranting in the background.

  “Never better,” I tell him.

  “Really, sweetheart?” he asks and I don’t know him very very well but I do know he’s skeptical.

  His voice drops an octave and it chills my blood. “You can say, if you’re not. Say nope, all good to me right now and I’ll figure this out.”

  “Really, Dare. Honest to God.” I’ve started calling him Dare like everyone else does. He’s a great brother-in-law. My sister is a lucky girl and I know that at my parroting that back to him, he’d do whatever he could to rescue me. I don’t want to be rescued. I’m gonna be doing the rescuing. And I certainly won’t put him at risk by making him wade into something between me and Alessandro. But again, I want this. This wedding? It’s progress.

  “I’m so glad you two came to share our big day. Did Alessandro send you the details yet?”

  “Yeah, honey, he did.” His voice is still down an octave.

  “Oh, okay then. We’ll see you there. Oh…” I pause. This is gonna be a bit awkward, but I just get it out anyway, “Can you ask Ang to shop for something for me to wear tonight for my wedding night? Something special.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Dare says gently, back to his usual voice, and we say our goodbyes.

  I lean over to put the phone down and I’m sort of draped over Alessandro. I feel hardness come alive at my pelvis.

  His eyes are open and he’s still got my hair but the hold isn’t harsh any longer.

  His mouth is set in a hard line. His eyes are searching my face.

  “She’ll pick something nice,” I say and a smile tugs at my lips. I don’t fight it, “For my… deeee…flowering. Please be gentle with me?” I put my lips to his jaw. “It’s our wedding day. You’re not supposed to see me. I hope this won’t be a jinx.” I kiss his jaw and then look into his eyes. My hair is dangling, making a curtain at the side of his face. He puts his hand into my hair, at my ear.

  It gives me goosebumps.

  He gets a look of pain on his face, swallows, and then opens his mouth to say something but then there’s a knock on the door.

  He flips me onto my back and then jumps up and goes to answer the door. He’s still in yesterday’s clothing, as am I, since my suitcase was dropped on the floor in the hallway of the hotel in Alaska.

  I sit up and he comes back in with a cart. I see a rack in the room behind him. A bell person leaves, shutting the door.

  “Wedding shit. Breakfast,” he mumbles, “Takin’ a shower.”

  I nod, looking at the stuff. The rack is filled with clothing and two covered garment bags. There are also bags hanging off hooks and about a dozen shoe boxes and another larger box, contents unknown.

  I move to the food trolley he’s wheeled in.

  He blocks my way, grabs my chin and looks into my eyes. His eyes are bloodshot. He smells like booze. I want to fall into him anyway.

  I’m about to when he says, “Don’t think about leaving this room.”

  I lick my lips. His eyes drop to my mouth.

  “Why would I?”

  “You better not. I’d find you. And it’d be like you pushed this.” He grabs my locket.

  People would get dead.

  I stare dead into his eyes, “I get to marry you today?”

  He swallows and doesn’t answer.

  “I wouldn’t dream of screwing that up.”

  He lets go of me, a sour look on his face, and then he goes to the clothing rack and peruses a few bags, selects one, heading to the bathroom with that bag. He doesn’t shut the door. I wonder what would’ve been said if the door knock hadn’t stopped him. His mood seemed as if it completely shifted due to the interruption. I hear the toilet flush and then the shower turns on.

  I move to the clothing rack by the door and unzip one garment bag a couple inches, seeing a black tuxedo. I unzip the other a couple inches and it’s white and it’s feeling like taffeta or something like that with all sorts of ruching and a little bit of sparkly beading. I resist the urge to unveil the whole dress.

  I look through the rest of what’s here and it’s a mini wardrobe for both of us. The sizes of the girl things are all the perfect size.

  I open the unknown unmarked large box and it’s filled with all brand-new cosmetics, nail stuff, plus there’s another long box with several bridal headdresses to choose from. I suppress the glee inside me and go back to the room service tray and pour coffee and butter a muffin.

  There’s fruit, more pastries, and a tall stack of pancakes plus bacon and sausages. Funny how there was just one blueberry muffin, like he ordered it because he knew it was my favorite breakfast. Did Esmerelda tell him of my preferences? I guess he’s surmised things about me the way I have about him, though he’s got access to much more information about me, since I’ve been in his possession for all this time but I’ve only gotten anywhere near learning things about him recently.

  I hear the shower go off a few minutes later and he walks by me with nothing on but a towel around his waist. My heart falters. God, he’s beautiful.

  He’s clean-shaven.

  Every ridge and muscle, every strand of dark hair, his gunmetal grey eyes framed under those thick lashes. Alessandro definitely looks Latin and Mediterranean, but he has romantic Arabian eyes with the gunmetal gray irises but with lashes are so dark it’s almost as if his eyes had been outlined with kohl.

  Those abs, that chest, those hip bones and that V. I get a perfect view of his tattoo up close for the first time ever as he raises his arms to towel dry his hair. Other times I’ve seen it, we’ve been in the dark or he’s been too far away or maybe I’m just too locked into his eyes for me to get an opportunity for a really good look at the cat.

  It’s a beautiful black panther, so detailed it looks like it could jump off his skin and devour me. Beside it,
at his ribcage, there‘s something else. Something that I don’t really think I noticed before. It’s a small string of black flowers, one on top of the other.

  Oh my God. Is that… a cluster of black hollyhocks?

  He tosses the towel onto the bed, grabs a bottle of water and tosses some pills into his mouth. He drops a bottle of Advil on the bed and massages his temples. He sees me eyeing his tattoo. I can’t even swallow.

  “Is that…” I look up at him. I drew those flowers. I know I did. What on earth?

  He squints at me, like I’m annoying, and takes another glug of his drink.

  I don’t finish my question. I pull my lips in tight and blink a couple times.

  He’s tattooed something on his body that has to be related to me. It has got to be. There’s no way it’s a coincidence that there’s black flowers on his torso that look exactly like hollyhock flowers that I would draw, that I probably did draw. My sketchbook? The one that was singed around the edges?

  This? It’s too much for me to process right now.

  This man has feelings for me. I know he does. Where they stemmed from? When it started? I don’t know 100% but have my theories, which I’ve already shared with him.

  But, I’ve never been more sure that I am going to win him over. I’ll go to any lengths to prove that he’s not who he’s trying to convince me he is. He wants to marry me. He just doesn’t want to admit that this is about much more than avoiding a feud with my brother-in-law’s family. I look up at him with determination.

  “Happy wedding day,” I say brightly.

  He rolls his eyes. “It’s the afternoon. Go start getting ready. I’ve got calls to make.”

  He dismisses me but I can see that he’s glad I let it go about the flowers. One day, we’ll discuss it. I know it. Today, I’ll just rest in the assurance it brings me about how deep he must feel for me. Even if he’s unwilling to admit it.

  I sort of skip off to the bathroom with a big smile, with my hotel robe and the bag of female toiletries, plus the box of cosmetics. I make two trips to the bathroom before starting the shower with all the other assorted wedding stuff.

  The concierge has thought of everything I might need and with one look at me, had the perfect cosmetics for me. I’m not super talented with make-up, I’ve got so little experience using it, but I apply foundation, a bit of blush, some brown mascara and eyeliner so it’s not so harsh as I think it’d be with black, a bit of glossy peach lipstick.

  I use a shimmery nude highlighter on my fingertips to give my eyelids and brows just a bit of a shimmer. I’d had my eyebrows done at Bianca’s salon a few days back so I’m pretty happy with the outcome.

  I clean my nail polish off my fingers and toes and apply just a clear coat with a bit of shimmer.

  There are a few head adornments with a few veils. I choose a rhinestone headband that’ll sit across my forehead, with an attached veil but I don’t put it on yet.

  I step out into the room in my robe and I find Rocco there. Alessandro is not.

  Oh no. My heart plummets.

  He smiles at me, “Good day to get married.”

  My heart lifts. “Oh. Hi,” I greet.

  He smiles at me, “Hello. I’m here to keep you company. Your sister is on her way to help you get ready.” His smile looks genuine and for the first time he doesn’t look so sinister to me.

  I smile big, “Oh. That’ll help.” It really will and my heart suddenly feels so much lighter.

  As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. Rocco looks out the peep hole and opens it. Angie and Dare. She’s dressed in a royal blue short-sleeved oriental style cocktail dress that is perfect for her eyes, also the same as my eyes. Dario is behind her in a very nice grey suit and blue tie, looking handsome as always. Angie has a Victoria’s Secret paper shopping bag with twine handles and Dario has my suitcase from our Alaska trip.

  Her eyes are shrewdly examining Rocco.

  I hop up and down enthusiastically and run to her.

  She catches me but she’s stiff. Skeptical.

  “Hiya,” I say to Dare.

  He kisses my forehead, “Hey you.”

  He shakes Rocco’s hand, they introduce themselves by first names only, and Dare undoes his blazer and sits on the sofa.

  “Let’s go,” I say as I take my sister into the bathroom, telling her I need her to help me with my hair and the veil.

  She doesn’t say anything. She hangs the Victoria’s Secret bag on a hook on the back of the bathroom door and she starts going to work on my hair, pulls it back at the top and bobby-pins it in a few twists and then attaches the headband, which sits across my forehead with the veil that hangs half way down my back.

  I clap my hands, examining my reflection.

  “Holl…” she starts and I had a feeling she was gearing up while playing with my hair to talk me out of this.

  “Angie, it’s my wedding day. Please be happy for me. I’m so very happy.” I’m lying but I’m also not lying. I’m not as giddy inside as I’m trying to portray but I’m happy at the same time. This is progress. That’s what I wanted and that’s what I’m getting.

  “I wanna be. But the things I know, the things you won’t talk about, and what I’ve seen so far... you can’t blame me for having reservations. I don’t understand how you’re okay with marrying someone who sells women.” Her eyes are so sad, “Zack somehow calmed Dare down. He was ready to go to war.”

  I ignore the chill that runs through me.

  “But Zack said stuff to him that Dare won’t explain to me. I don’t fucking get it…”

  “I know you don’t understand and after what you’ve been through, it might seem like I’m being insensitive to you. But it’s not about what he does. It’s about me and him.”

  “I don’t know why---”

  “I don’t need for you to understand why. I need you to understand that I just need you to stand up with me today and be there while I marry the man I love. Can you do that for me? My wedding gift, from you. No lectures, no squinty eyes, or Marge Simpson groans? No dirty looks for Alessandro when you see him? Just be there for me on the happiest day of my life. Please?”

  She swallows and I fight back the same urge. I really do hope it’ll somehow be a happy day.

  “I can. I will. I don’t understand but---” she shakes her head, “I will. I love you and I’m doing my best here to just trust you. I hope what I picked is okay.” She gestures to the bag. “I tried to put my feelings and fears aside and choose for you something I’d choose if I felt like what you were doing today was a good thing.”

  “Thank you. And I love you too. You are the best sister ever. You were the best present I ever got. You’ve always looked out for me and I won’t ever forget that.” I squeeze her and she starts to get weepy eyed.

  “No! I don’t want to ruin my make-up. How did I do?” I gesture toward my face with both hands.

  “You did good. You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful but you really are… a beautiful bride.” She wipes her eyes, “You look so grown up. Here. Just need a tiny bit of blending at your jawline.” She goes to the cosmetics and gets a sponge.

  I smile and then she helps me. And then she helps me get into my dress.

  It’s strapless but tasteful. It flows while being very form-fitting, and there’s ruching all through the bodice and has a corset back, plus ruffles all through the long skirt. It touches the floor and has a bit of a train in the back. It is absolutely perfect.

  Angie plugs in the flat iron that’s in the cabinet and starts pulling it through her hair. In no time, there’s steam coming from her hair and the thing is erasing her curls.

  “Wow.” I say as it begins to transform.

  “Never thought I’d do this to my hair again but…maybe it’ll help.”

  “Help?” I ask. Her hair looked great; I’m not sure why she’s suddenly straightening it.

  She shakes her head, looking dismayed, and doesn’t answer.

  “Ang?”
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  “They kept my hair straight. Dare likes it wild, likes me wild. If my hair is straight, I can keep a lid on what I’m feeling. I---”

  “Oh God, Angie.” Horror sweeps over me. “I’m so sorry to do this to you,” I say, “Don’t straighten your hair if it takes you back there. Please, just---”

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. What shoes are you wearing?”

  I blink at her a minute and she shakes her head at me, giving me the signal to let her finish her hair. I reach down to the stack of shoeboxes and choose from several pairs. The ones that call to me are a shimmery white heel with some rhinestones, so they match my headband and my dress and then as I’m just about ready, there’s a knock at the bathroom door. Rocco opens it and passes me my and Ang’s bouquets.

  There are two. One is slightly smaller with multiple colors and the larger one is mostly pale pink blooms, the prettiest shade of pink I think I’ve ever seen. But there’s a single black bloom in the center. It hits me in the chest with enormity. This is his way of telling me that the flowers on his body are for me. It’s also something else, maybe. Maybe it’s him telling me that he’s black, and me --- all light and maybe a little colorful --- I surround him.

  I want to cry. I don’t. I won’t. He keeps his feelings hidden but this? This is a strong message from him and I will cherish it.

  “Look, there’s something tucked in beside that black flower,” my sister says.

  There’s a little velvet tab with diamond earrings on it. They match the cut of my engagement ring.

  Angie smiles and this time it touches her eyes. I think it’s because she sees the joy on my face. She’s staring at that black flower, too, and I think she maybe kind of gets it.

  I put the earrings in and I hear Dare call in to the bathroom.

  “Let’s get you to the church on time.”

  We step out and he gives my sister a very strange look. She looks up at him demurely and he shakes his head and looks sorely pissed suddenly.

  “You obviously don’t like her hair straight?” I say.

  “No. No, I fucking don’t,” he grumbles.

  I can see something pass between them that I know is mostly theirs, but after what she has just said in the bathroom, I feel guilty about making them both think about those painful emotions.