Alessandro
The concierge meets us in the lobby of our hotel.
“Mr. Romero. Welcome. I’m Robert and I’m at your service. Anything you need; please don’t hesitate to ask. I understand you’re getting married?” He glances at Holly.
I haven’t looked directly at her face since leaving the hotel in Juneau. I’m still holding her hand. I slept on the flight, woke as I was told we were landing, holding her hand, her asleep with her head on my shoulder.
“Thank you. Please arrange a wedding for us for tomorrow. Arrange for her to have a dress, shoes, make-up, whatever she needs. 4 o’clock or after. Someplace nice. Classy. No gimmicky Vegas shit.”
“Your dress, miss? What did you have in mind? Would you like me to arrange an appointment today with a stylist?” he asks her this carefully. He’s so careful that he must read that something is off with her.
She blinks and opens her mouth. Too much silence for too long and I don’t fuckin’ like the way she’s staring straight ahead, big eyes, looking distraught. I don’t want this guy to get tweaked and involve anybody else in this.
“Or? Or I could simply have her choose for you. Can I take your photo and send it to our team?”
“No,” I answer, “Just select something. I’ll text you her sizes.”
“Not a worry. I have ideas. A beautiful canvas to work with. Not a worry at all. Reception requirements?” He’s good at his job. He hasn’t even flinched.
“No reception. Us two. Maybe two or three witnesses. I’ll let you know if the witnesses can make it. If not, you can help with that?”
“I can.”
“Good.”
“Rings?” he asks.
“I’ll have them.” I say, “I need you to get me everything else. Give me your email or cell number and I’ll send you a list of what I want.”
“I’ll watch for it and then all will be taken care of, sir.” He hands me his business card and we’re shown to our suite.
***
We step in and I glance in her direction. She’s staring, into space, dazed.
I go straight to the bar, crack open the fifth of whisky that they’d left per my instructions, pour a drink, and down it.
She’s blinking, lost-looking, staring at thin air. I text Rocco with a code only he’ll know so that he knows to get on a plane and head here. When he gets here, I’ll send him for rings. I drop the phone, take her hand and, not looking at her face again, pull her into the bedroom. I give her a little shove ahead and then I leave, shutting the door behind me. A dick thing to do, but I need a fuckin’ minute to myself. To get my head together.
I sit on the black leather sofa and pour another fucking drink.
I text Zack.
“Talk Dario out of attempting to kill me.”
Fifteen minutes and three more shots of whisky later, he replies.
“Already trying to do that.”
I snicker.
An hour or so later, he texts again.
Zack: “Things are calm. Not because it was easy. He’s on the way to Vegas now. I think I’ve calmed him down.”
Me: “Thanks. Owe you.”
Zack: “I’ll add it to your tab. I’m comin’ too. Bringing Wes.”
Me: “Why?”
Zack: “No way we’re missing your wedding.”
He put a happy face with its tongue sticking out. I frown and shake my head, tossing the phone on the coffee table. Zack Jacobs was an enigma, for sure.
The guy’s lethal. Thirty-five, American, muscled, army-trained. He had a past he did not share much about. He had secrets. I knew some of them and used them to my advantage. He was helping me solve my problem and that’d help him slay some demons of his own.
He had elite special forces military training and was an excellent tracker with a huge network of connections. He was tracking for me. And when he found what I’d set him on a course for, it’d get this fuckin’ noose off my neck.
It’d maybe mean I’d sleep at night.
It’d maybe mean I didn’t have to keep eyeballing over my shoulder because I was being watched, being measured, and being taunted.
It’s late. Dark. And I’m drunk. I’m in the dark hotel room, slouched on the sofa, watching a news channel on television with the sound muted. I don’t know if it’s night or day because the curtains are pulled tight. My whisky bottle’s been empty for a few drinks. I spilled some but drank most of it. It should’ve been enough. It wasn’t. I’m not sure there’s enough booze in all this hotel’s many mini bars to numb me enough.
I’ve already dug into the mini bar here and the little bottles. There are four empty ones in front of me. Or eight.
I’m probably seeing double. Two Hollys are walking toward me so yeah, my vision is fucked.
I point my finger in a gun gesture at one of them and shoot it.
It doesn’t disappear.
She sits down on the coffee table in front of me. Her knees are touching my legs.
“Hi.” Her lyrical voice fills my chest. There’s just one of her now.
She’d left me alone for hours. Correction, I left her alone for hours. Never brought her food or water or anything. I just shoved her in that room so I could fucking drink and not think. I shove her places and go on about my business like she doesn’t matter. Even though she matters more than she should. Some husband I’ll make.
“Hi,” I slur, “Whatchoo doing mi pequeña rubia flor? Belleza. Pequeña.”
She’s so fuckin’ pretty, in her yoga pants and her bare feet with her toes painted blue like the sky. She has little pink daisy flowers on her big toes.
“Rubia?” she asks. She’s showing me her dimples.
I reach for her hair and miss.
“Blonde. Rubia. Spanish lesson. Ha.” I hiccup and then rub my eyes.
“Belleza?”
“Never mind.” I wave my hand.
“You’re very drunk, aren’t you?” she points out.
I look up at the two of her.
I point at her with two finger guns. I make a pop sound with my mouth and close my eyes and slouch some more.
“You’re cute when you’re drunk,” she says.
I laugh. That’s fucking hilarious.
Then I’m starting to feel the sour come on. All the things I’m not. All the things I can’t be for her. For me. For anybody. For her…
And then I think about being a little kid in a hotel room with my parents. What happened when my father passed out drunk on the sofa. What me and Mama did after…
She can’t fuckin’ leave me. No.
I’d do exactly what he did. I’d hunt her down and…
Just like him? Fuck. I’m fucked. She’s fucked. She’s fucked because I’m fucked and I am not giving her up.
“Come to bed,” she whispers.
She has my hand and the sour doesn’t fully come.
I rise and follow her, intrigued by that idea.
I look at her asses. She’s one person now but she has two asses. I make my eyes bigger and then try to focus. No. One ass. One round perfect ass.
“You been eating good, little flower? Your ass looks so good I wanna bite it.” I reach for it but stumble a little and don’t catch it. I stop myself from falling by catching the door frame.
“Yeah, I’ve been eating my feelings a lil’ bit.”
We’re in the bedroom now and at the bed. I throw myself on it.
She’s leaning over, untying my running shoes. She takes them off.
I think I’m smiling at her. My face hurts.
“Piccolo fiore,” I tell her. And then I start to sing the old Italian song to her. Mama used to sing it when she cleaned the apartment.
Holly’s so fuckin’ pretty. She’s smiling at me with her dimples.
Fuck, but those dimples really fuck with me.
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Little flower.”
“I thought that was pequeña flor?”
“Eat some more. It looks good. I make you eat your feelings, though? You’re gonna grow to be the size of this hotel. I didn’t feed you dinner. You want dinner?”
“No, I’m not hungry.”
“Mini bar shit? Cookies? Nuts?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Okay.” My eyes feel heavy.
She’s talking to me. I’m not paying attention to her words. Just to the sweet sound of her voice.
Something’s warm and against me. I grab it and hold on. It’s her. She smells good. Feels soft. So fucking soft.
“So fucking mine,” I whisper.
“I know,” Holly whispers.
“How you feel about that, really?”
“I’m scared. And happy. And a little sad.”
“Why, baby?” I have a handful of her hair. It’s so soft. I whisper in Italian that I love her hair and I wished she didn’t cut it but why she cut it makes me hurt in a beautiful way, but I can’t tell her because I’m a bastard trying to make her hate me.
“Is that Spanish lesson number two?” she whispers.
“Not Spanish. S’Italian.”
“It sounded beautiful. I like how your voice sounds when you speak Italian. When you sing it. How many languages do you speak?”
“I know three. English, Spanish. Italian. Italiano! Bellisima!” I throw my hand out.
“Why Italian? Did you spend time in Italy?” Her hand is touching my face. Rubbing it. I lean in.
I close my eyes and let myself revel in the way that feels. My chest hurts.
“I don’t speak Italian. I know Italian. I’m half Italian. Never speak it. Hurts to speak it.”
Her lips are on my cheek, “Why, Alessandro?”
“Mama,” I say and I feel the room begin to churn. I have to sleep. I have to let the dark have me so I don’t think about all I’m thinking about.
“You’re mine,” I remind her, “I gotta sleep. You don’t go. You stay and stay close. Can’t go. Marry you tomorrow.”
“I’m not going.”
“Please don’t go.”
“I won’t. Honest.”
“Why? Why don’t you try to run away?” I mutter. She’s never tried to get away. She’s always running toward the monster. Why the fuck does she do that?
“I don’t know,” she says.
I think she’s being honest. She sounds like she is. She’s honest. My little Holly. I don’t think she knows how to lie. It’s one of the things that makes me… want her.
“What do you want?” I ask her. I roll on my side and touch her face, “And don’t say me, ‘cuz you have me, princesa.”
She leans in and rests her cheek on my outstretched arm.
“Do I?”
“Si.”
“What do I want short term or what do I want long term, Alessandro?”
“Short first.”
She takes a minute to decide. The room is still churning a little bit. I grab for her as if she can steady me. And fuck me, but she does.
She speaks, “I want tomorrow, our wedding, our wedding night, to feel like you love me. Like you’re not afraid to show me how you feel about me. Because I know you feel things for me. I want to experience what you feel about me. I want to look back on tomorrow as the most beautiful day of my life.”
“Hm.” I ponder that a minute, “And what about after that? After tomorrow?”
“Long term?” she asks, “Long term, I want to figure out how to make you happy, Alessandro.”
I laugh acidly and then I bury my nose in her hair. “Don’t waste your time. I’ll never be happy and I’ll never be able to make you happy, mi amor.”
“You won’t at least try?”
“No point wasting time on something impossible. That’s why you should give up your hope for me, piccolo fiore. I’m impossible. I’m angry and bitter. And my soul? Nero. So black. What if tomorrow is beautiful but I can’t promise past tomorrow?”
“Then I’ll take tomorrow for now. But, I’m not giving up.”
“Then you’re fooling yourself.”
“If I lose hope, I do. I’m not there, though. I still have so much hope.” She’s rubbing my cheek, scrubbing her nails gently up and down the stubble. Her hair is tickling my neck.
“Foolish girl.” My eyes are drooping. Thank Fuck she’s so foolish.
“If I can’t learn Spanish, can I learn Italian?”
Evidently, I do speak it. When I’m drunk. I don’t answer her. I inhale her scent, feel her softness. And I sink. I sink into something beautiful. A dream about her where I can be what she wants, what I might’ve been if I hadn’t fucked up so bad.
Holly
He’s asleep. He looks beautiful to me. His hair is in his eyes. I reach over and thread my fingers into it and sweep it away from his forehead. And then I put my hand back to his cheek. He rolls into it and starts snoring softly.
I snuggle in. His arm goes around me and his leg cocks and traps me underneath him.
This is where I want to be. Trapped underneath him, but with access to touch him. I snuggle in further. I could spend my whole life here. Like this.
I hate that Ang is worrying about me, that Dare is, too. I don’t want to be selfish, but Alessandro is what I want. Yes, I know he’s a self-professed monster. But I also know, deep down to the core of me, that I’m what Alessandro needs.
Something made him save me and I don’t just owe him for that. I want, with everything in me, to help him to see why he did it.
I fall asleep holding tight to him. I don’t want to wake up alone again.
***
I’m dreaming about my gran. And her old red rotary dial telephone is ringing. I open my eyes. His phone is ringing. But, it’s from kind of far away, I think. It’s in the other room. It stops. It starts again. It’s morning now. But only barely, I think.
It’s loud, but it’s not waking him.
It stops and it starts again.
I carefully extract myself from underneath him and it’s not easy. He’s not only a dead weight but he groans in protest as I move away.
“Mine,” he says, still asleep, “Il mio.”
I go to the living area and lift his phone from the coffee table.
It’s stopped and started ringing again.
“S calling.”
I lift it, staring at the screen, and chew my lip. Do I turn it off or answer it?
Whoever ‘S’ is, they’re anxious to get ahold of him.
Would I even be able to wake him if I tried?
I carry the phone into the bedroom with me, figuring that if it keeps ringing maybe it’ll wake him and he’ll answer it.
He’s snoring. His face is smushed into the pillow.
It starts ringing again.
He grunts.
“Should I answer this, Alessandro?” I ask.
He grunts.
“Baby?” I try.
His eye opens. One of them. His face is so smushed I can’t see if the other is open or not. I almost wanna laugh, because he’s got fishy lips with his smushed face.
“S? They keep calling over and over.”
He rises and yanks the phone out of my hand, wiping his eye.
“What?” he clips.
He jerks his chin at me as he’s listening. I’m not sure what that chin jerk means. He flicks his hand toward the doorway. Oh. He wants me to go.
“Yeah, I did. It’s a heap of rubble.” He holds the phone, a sour look on his face. I can hear a male voice shouting from his phone.
Before I’m out of earshot I hear him say a bunch of stuff in Spanish before ending with, "Fuck you, asshole.”
Actually, he was so loud I doubt I’d be out of earshot if I was outside the hotel suite and down the hall.
“Get back here,” he demands.
I go back to him.
“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?”
“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.
She takes his arm.
Rocco accompanies me, Angie, and Dare to a little chapel in a white stretch limousine. In addition to the chauffeur, who looks more like a bodyguard than a chauffeur, there’s another man. Probably also a guard. I can tell that Dare is a little bit uneasy.
Dare’s eyes are on me and I have a feeling he’s looking at me to see if I want him to take control and get me out of there. Rocco isn’t giving us a second to ourselves.
I smile at him and give him a big kiss on the cheek, “I’m happy. This is how it’s supposed to go.”
He nods. Rocco heard it; I know this by the look on his face. No way would I underestimate him, no way would I put Dare at risk. But no way am I not going through with this, either.
This is how it’s supposed to go. I’m supposed to marry Alessandro.
***
It doesn’t feel like a Vegas wedding. We’re escorted to a little greenhouse filled to the brim with gorgeous flowers, but it’s air conditioned. An outdoor wedding in the desert without sweat. Nice one, Robert the concierge.
I feel beautiful and excited and I’m probably crazy for it, but I also feel hopeful.
Rocco whispers something to Dare and he nods and then Dare and my sister walk, hand in hand, out of the little alcove we’re in.
It’s just me and Rocco with the chauffeur and his partner or whatever standing off in the distance by the door.
“I delivered you to him the first time. Let’s deliver you again, for the final time.” He gives me a smile.
The guy who brings his sex slaves to him is giving me away at my wedding. My wedding to the man who owns or at least runs that sex ring. A man who has twisted my heart in knots these past few months. My heart and brain both pause at that and I look at him with trepidation. He shrugs, kind of apologetically.
“Do you know him well?” I ask.
He smiles. “Few do. If any.”
“But, you’ve known him a long time?”
He nods.
“I…” I don’t know how to say what’s in me. I don’t know how to describe what’s in me. I try anyway, “I feel like he’s good deep down but he doesn’t---”
“Never ever speak to anyone about what you think of what he has deep down. If what’s deep down in him is something he shows you? It’s just for you. Talking about it is the fastest way to make sure he does not trust you. You give him what you’ve been giving him. Do what you’re doing. It got you this far. It’s why you’re here, not where you were planned for. Are you okay for me to bring you or would you rather your brother-in-law?”
I nod. I’d rather it be my father. But that’s not an option. And I heard Alessandro ask Dare to be his best man so I’m not going to ask Dare to give me away.
All that matters to me is who is at the end of the altar. Rocco cocks his arm and I take it and we start to walk out of the alcove and then I see him.
My heart seizes for a moment. He’s in black. Tuxedo: black. Black shirt, black bowtie. Totally black. Even his corsage is that black hollyhock with a tinge of maroon. Like the bloom in my bouquet. I smile at him. Big. I feel so much joy bubble up in surprise as he smiles back at me. His smile makes me go weak in the knees.
It’s like he’s shed the angry skin for a second when he’s looking at me. He’s taking in my appearance and maybe my joy. I feel so much joy at the smile he has on his face. It’s like no smile I’ve seen from him before. I stumble. Rocco steadies me and I giggle. Everyone in the room laughs with me, except Alessandro. He’s now looking at me with this possessive expression that is making my heart pound hard.
I put my hand to my heart, take a deep breath, and then move to him. I notice the officiant, a bearded short older man in a white suit. He kind of resembles Colonel Sanders. He smiles at me. I smile back.
“Hi,” I say to Alessandro.
He moistens his lips and shakes his head at me, but his eyes are sparkling with amusement.
God, they’re gorgeous. He’s gorgeous.
There are also two men beside Alessandro that I don’t know. One is a tall guy in a navy-blue suit with strawberry blond hair. He looks quite a bit like Chris Pratt. The guy closest to Alessandro is a mixed-race Lenny Kravitz lookalike. But he’s no more than thirty and he is very well built. He has piercing green eyes and he’s wearing a tuxedo. He’s in a sports jacket and jeans. Everyone is smiling at me. Dare and Angel are on the other side. The bride’s side.
“Hi everyone,” I say and I hear chuckles.
The officiant doesn’t even get a chance to say a word, because Alessandro takes my bouquet and passes it to my sister. He takes my hands and starts speaking, slipping a ring on my finger on top of the engagement ring. I don’t even look down at it because my eyes are locked by his.
“I, Alessandro, take you Holly, to be my wife from this moment forward. I join with you and take you as mine. I give myself to you as yours. You have all of me. And nothing will change that. Not even death.”
He means this.
I don’t just hear it. I see it in his eyes. I feel the resolve in his words. Every person in this room has got to feel it. There’s no question about it.
“That’ll do,” The officiant said with a smile in his voice. “Holly? Would you like to say your own vows or should I help?”
I don’t even hesitate. I shake my head at him. Ang passes me a simple wide gold wedding band. I slip it on Alessandro’s ring finger and the unrehearsed words roll off my tongue as I stare right into his eyes, meaning every word.
“I, Holly, take you, Alessandro, to be my husband. I’m yours. Forever. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy, no matter how challenging it is. I’ll never stop trying. I’m gonna make you feel like you chose the best life partner you could choose. I love you so much.”
He squeezes my hands and his jaw clenches. His eyes travel from my eyes to my toes and back to my eyes again. He swallows and blows out a slow breath.
I can’t believe my eyes, the way he’s being. It’s… a dream come true.
“To confirm, do you Alessandro, take Holly to be your wife?” the officiant asks.
“I do,” He says without hesitation, his eyes penetrating me like hot lava. My face gets hot.
“Do you, Holly, take Alessandro to be your husband?”
“I do!” I say in a way that’s almost like ‘I absolutely fucking do.’
“By the power vested in me by God and this great state of Nevada, I now pronounce Alessandro and Holly to be husband and wife. I’ve been doin’ this a long time and so I’m good at reading people and I can tell… you, son: you look like you really really wanna kiss your bride. Go ahead and do it.”
Alessandro grabs me and steals my breath as his mouth catches mine. His hand is on my jaw, the other hand on the small of my back and I’m directly against his body. It is the single most perfect kiss I could imagine for my first kiss with my husband.
My husband. Wow.
It’s a beautiful moment and it feels like there isn’t a single other person here besides the two of us.
His mouth is claiming, his strong lips make mine tingle. The kiss is not chaste, not by any means. I feel like my whole body has turned to Jell-O. His lips are strong, sure, and I’m tingling.
Finally, he releases my lips and pulls back very slowly, his eyes all I see. All I wanna see.
I gather my senses and give him a smile. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop smiling. Happiness is oozing out of every single pore looking up at him in front of me, looking happy, too, looking even more handsome than I have ever seen him look. And he’s mine. Mine.
“Paperwork,” the officiant announces, “A quick five minutes for paperwork and then Mr. and Mrs. Romero, you two can go off and enjoy your reception and your happily ever after.”
There isn’t going to be a reception, but he doesn’t need to know that.
A happily ever after? Well… I sure hope so. Does that hope make me crazy? Maybe. I just married a man who is practically a stranger. But he’s been the center of my existence for a while. And I’m so hopeful.
My sister has tears in her eyes and my brother-in-law has a smile on his face. They are both happy for us; I can see it. How could they not be? It was short and sweet but it was also succinct. And that kiss? I felt it and can still feel it. I’d imagine anyone who saw it would see that it was a man kissing his bride in a way that showed everyone how he felt about her.
He feels that way about me? I’m giddy.
He takes my hand and we walk toward the office, but we’re stopped by the group of people who witnessed our nuptials.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Romero,” the Lenny Kravitz lookalike says as he gives Alessandro a man hug that Alessandro doesn’t pull away from, and then he reaches for my hand, “Wesley Traynor. Lex and me have been friends since we were nine. Couldn’t let him get hitched without being his best man. Bumped this fine guy right here.” He gestures to Dare.
Dare waves his hand in a ‘No worries’ gesture.
The Chris Pratt guy leans forward and extends his hand, “Zack Jacobs. Wes and I work together. Lex and I are… friends.”
Alessandro quirks an eyebrow up at Zack. Zack chuckles and slaps his back good-naturedly.
“Good to meet you both,” I say.
Ang hugs me, dabbing at her eyes and Dare hugs me and shakes Alessandro’s hand. Ang gives Alessandro a stiff hug. She’s trying. I gotta give her that.
Alessandro grabs my hand again and we go take care of the paperwork.
A few photos are taken by a young guy in a suit with a long ponytail. He has a petite female partner with pink and purple hair, who is dealing with lenses and another camera. I hadn’t realized someone was taking pictures while we were getting married. I was so focused on the groom.
We’re given a proof page with a bunch of photos and I gasp when I see how great they are, how happy we look. There’s one of him looking at me coming up the aisle. The look in his eyes? Wow. There’s another of my perspective looking toward him. Same wow factor. Photos of us looking into one another’s eyes as he speaks, as I speak. Us kissing. My heart floods with joy at the sight of two people who look like they’re in love.
“What photo and video package would you like?” A sweet little old lady who had been playing the organ asks.
“The biggest,” Alessandro says, looking over my shoulder at the sheet of proofs.
She smiles and tells us that the package will be sent to our hotel before the end of the next day.
“I’ll have them picked up here. What time?” Alessandro asks.
“This time tomorrow,” she smiles and then looks at me, “One of the most handsome grooms, maybe the most handsome groom I’ve ever seen, little dolly. And the way he looked at you? I’ve been here many years, done thousands of weddings, and I’d say you got yerself a keeper.” She taps her chest to make like her heart is all a flutter.
He’s completely still, a weird look on his face.
I snuggle into his side. “I know it,” I tell her, and give her a wink.
He jerks my hand and then moves us outside and Zack takes a couple pictures of us, leaving Alessandro looking mildly annoyed.
“Where we doin’ dinner?” Wesley asks.
“We? We’re not,” Alessandro answers, “You’re all goin’ home. I’m startin’ my honeymoon. Like…now.” He gives Wesley a grin and his eyes are sparkling with mischief.
Wesley grins right back, getting the message.
I’ve got the ‘message’ too, I’m getting goosebumps. Ang is looking at the ground, her teeth embedded in her lower lip. Dare is tight-lipped and narrow-eyed. I think he thinks of me as a little sister already.
“Man?” Wesley suddenly looks supremely annoyed, “I come all the way down here to see you hitched and you’re not gonna buy me some fuckin’ surf ‘n turf, at least?” He stomps a foot in outrage.
“I’m sure you can entertain yourself. Must be somethin’ to do in Vegas?” Alessandro has a teasing look on his face. I like this teasing playful side of him.
Wesley’s eyes light up, “Oh, I guess I could think of somethin’ to occupy my time tonight.” He eyes me. “Guess you’ll have plenty to occupy you.”
“Watch it,” Alessandro warns, but he’s still smiling. I lean into him and he lets go of my hand to put his arm around me.
“Breath-takingly beautiful bride. Beautiful ceremony. My congratulations,” Wesley leans over and kisses my cheek.
He slaps Alessandro on the shoulder. Zack leans in and says, “Two minutes, Lex?”
Alessandro squeezes me and then he moves away, glancing at Rocco. Something passes between them and Rocco moves closer to me. Alessandro walks away with Zack and Wesley, out of earshot but still in sight.
I hug Angie and then Dario again as Alessandro, Wesley, and Zack talk in a huddle. Ang is asking me where we’re going for our honeymoon and I tell her I have no idea.
I stay back, giving them a minute.
Finally, Zack slaps him on the back and then Alessandro looks at me.
“Ready?” he calls.
Am I?
I smile and feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“You guys going back to Mexico?” Angie asks.
“Not immediately,” Alessandro answers, coming our way, but doesn’t share further information so Ang waits a beat, two, looking awkward, and when he says nothing else, she blinks, glances at Dare and then turns to me.
“Oh my God, I’m gonna miss you. Call me after your honeymoon, okay? Tell me all about it?”
I give her a huge hug. “I will.”
“Thanks to both of you for taking care of her the last few months. I appreciate it.” Alessandro shakes Dare’s hand.
Dare’s expression looks almost guarded, I think, it’s hard to tell, as it was for just a nanosecond before his expression clears.
“Congrats, you two. Holly, you need anything, you know where we are. Lex, call me when you two are back, yeah?”
“Sure,” Alessandro says casually and then he leads me toward the limo. He stops at Rocco and mutters something in Spanish.
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Romero,” Rocco says to me as he gives Alessandro a nod.
I give Ang and Dare a wave, “Thank you, you two, for everything.” I blow kisses and then we get in the limo. As it pulls away, I feel nothing but excitement and joy. Until I turn to look at him and the look on his face stops my excitement in its tracks.
He looks wrecked. Ravaged. Distraught. His expression changes when he catches my eyes on him and goes guarded.
I swallow and watch him a moment. He looks uncomfortable under my scrutiny. For once. It’s weird. It’s like it’s not even him sitting there, like it’s someone else in his body.
“Where are we going on our honeymoon?” I ask, trying to be light about it.
“It’s a surprise.” He straightens up and he’s Alessandro again. I’m just not sure if he’s wedding-Alessandro or the usual one.
I smile. I almost say, “Really?” but I don’t. I don’t know if our wedding has been a turning point or not. I’m just hoping with the way he looks that the moment isn’t over. That he wasn’t just acting for Dare and Angie’s benefit.
It couldn’t have been that. It felt so real. I’m filled with nervous energy but not long later, we’re pulling in at The Four Seasons. We were staying somewhere else before. I look around, confused.
The door opens and when we get out, tourists are staring. I’m sure we make quite a sight, the bride and groom. People start clapping. A few of them take pictures of us with their phones. Alessandro hurries me inside.
The inside is gorgeous.
“Mr. and Mrs. Roman. Right this way. Congratulations,” A suited guy says as he ushers us to an elevator, acting as if he knows who we are and where we need to go.
He pushes the button, the doors close, and as we climb I wonder why Alessandro didn’t correct them on his name. And then I finally look down at my hand. My wedding band is an eternity band with small square diamonds almost all the way around. But it’s angled so that around the bottom of the square of my engagement ring, it fits snug.
I love it. I also love the big wide band on his finger.
The elevator stops and we’re escorted to a door. Alessandro holds my hand the whole way. The bellman uses his card and thrusts the doors aside. I can see that it is absolutely beautiful. There are flowers and lit candles everywhere. I see a champagne bucket on the coffee table.
The guy says something to “Mr. and Mrs. Roman” that I don’t even register and then he’s back in the elevator and gone.
Much to my surprise, Alessandro lifts me up and carries me over the threshold.
I take a sharp breath in surprise and look at his face.
He’s not smiling. He doesn’t look angry either.
He spins and puts the ‘do not disturb’ on the outside of the door and then kicks it shut. This isn’t a suite. It’s one huge massive bedroom, the big bed in the center of it, the white coverlet covered in rose petals. There are candles on the dresser, the table, on candleholders attached to the wall and every one of them, dozens of them, is lit.
He sets me gently on the edge of the bed and reaches for the champagne bottle, pours two glasses, and then pushes a button on the remote that’s on the table and music starts to play.
All of Me. I think it’s by John Legend. I’ve heard this a few times on the radio at Angie’s.
He turns the light out. The room is so beautiful in flickering candlelight that it takes my breath away.
He steps up and catches me by hand. I move to standing and his hand hooks me around the waist.
“You didn’t get a reception but you need a first dance, I suppose.” He twirls me and a giggle comes out of my mouth.
And then I begin to listen to the words to the song and we move around and around the beautiful room.
My God, it’s perfect. Maybe he wasn’t acting. I don’t want this to end. I don’t know how to dance, really, but I just let him lead and we glide, almost float, around in slow circles.
And I hope and I pray that this is really real.
I’m looking up into his eyes.
He’s looking down into mine.
His thumb grazes my cheek and he wipes a lone tear away. It’s a happy tear. A hopeful tear.
“I love you,” I tell him. “And I do want all of you. Every bit.” For a split second, I regret saying it. Will his mood shift again?
He lets out a breath, “That’s the problem. You’ll have it. And most of it?” He shakes his head. “It ain’t good, Mrs. Romero.”
I snuggle in, goosebumps prickling over my skin everywhere. Mrs. Romero.
But, I don’t believe that. I know I’ve had to endure a lot from him and most girls would’ve closed up and given up long before now, but I just … I don’t want to give up. I feel like I’ve always had a sixth sense about people’s true nature. I feel like I’m right about him. I’ve never doubted it. I know he has demons. I don’t know much more than that. But I see something in him. Something that tells me he needs me to keep believing.
When the song wraps up, after however many minutes of feeling like I’m floating on air, we stop. He passes me my champagne and touches his glass to mine and then he takes a sip. I take one, too.
Another song has already come on and it’s familiar.
“If the sun refused to shine…”
I quickly realize it’s Thank You by Led Zeppelin but this isn’t Led Zeppelin performing it. It’s someone else. A familiar voice. Angie loved loud rock music and loved 70’s acid rock, too, so I’m not unfamiliar. It might be the guy from Sound Garden singing.
This song gives me chills as I absorb the words with new emotions that I’ve never felt while listening to it before. He puts his glass down and then takes mine and sets it down beside his.
He isn’t dancing, he’s just holding me. Looking at me. He then takes my hand and leads me toward the bathroom.
“Not all of anyone is good, Alessandro.”
I look at him with awe as he removes my veil and sets it on the long dark wood dresser outside the bathroom door. He gestures to the bathroom doorway.
“Let’s just enjoy tonight. Figure the rest out later?”
“Deal.” I smile.
“You make a beautiful bride, Holly,” he says.
“You’re the most handsome groom I’ve ever seen,” I return.
He doesn’t smile.
I turn and go into the bathroom and I’m relieved to find the Victoria’s Secret bag my sister had brought me, as well as the toiletries both from my Alaska luggage as well as from what Robert the concierge sent up to the other room. All our things have been moved here and someone has unpacked most of them.
The song is still playing as I take off my wedding gown and hang it on the back of the door. I finger it lovingly and then unwrap the contents of the bag that contains my lingerie.
A white, mostly sheer (other than the breasts) chemise with ruffles and white ruffled French cut panties. Simple and beautiful. Virginal, too.
The song has ended by the time I’ve gotten changed and taken the pins out of my hair. Another slow song comes on but I hear the music go off and I hear him shuffling around. I’d spritzed on a bit of peach body mist and rolled on more deodorant, brushed my teeth, and now I wander out to silence and mostly dimness. He’s blown out all the candles except for ones on the tables on either side of the bed.
He’s in the bed, on top of the blankets.
It’s not even dark yet outside, but you’d never know it because the drapes have been closed and the room is dim. Even still, the candlelight shows how his eyes heat as he sees me.
He gets out of the bed. He’s in sexy black skintight boxer briefs with Versace across the waistband in gold.
He gets to me and lifts me into his arms and then he takes me to the bed and gently lays me on my back.
I wait, chewing my bottom lip. He stands over me, looking at me with a look I’ve never seen on his face. A warm and gentle expression. I’m not scared. I’m in love with the expression on his face. He’s looking at me with appreciation.
His hands touch my ankles. They move upwards, slowly, until they’re at my hips. His hands splay across them, gently. He hooks his fingers into the panties at my hips and gently peels them down, his eyes on mine.
“Alessandro?” I start.
“Knees up,” he whispers, putting the panties to his nose and my tummy flip flops.
I pull them up. The chemise rides up to my belly. He tosses the panties behind him.
He jerks his chin and I know what he wants. But, I have to say something first.
“It’s been more than three months since I had that shot. Dr. Jimena said it’d last three mo---”
“It’s okay,” he assures without changing his expression and does the book opening gesture with his hands. I don’t know if “It’s okay” means I won’t get pregnant or if it’s okay if I do get pregnant.
I throw my arms over my head and then I let my knees very slowly drop, giving him the show he wants.
He is blinking and looking down at me.
His tongue skims across his teeth behind his closed lips and then he reaches down and peels his own underwear down and steps out of them, then puts a knee to the bed.
His knees are between my legs. He leans forward and undoes the single golden toggle that is holding my chemise closed between my breasts. I slip my arms out and return them to above my head.
“You’re perfect,” he tells me, dropping the garment to the floor.
I give him a nervous smile. His words feel like warmth running through me.
“And you’re mine,” he tells me.
I nod.
“Even more mine than before. Before, I decided you were mine. Now, you’ve given yourself to me.”
I nod again.
“Thank you,” he says and I can see it’s with sincerity.
I smile. Goosebumps rise all over me. My heart is so full right now, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
“And I’m yours. All of me. Good, bad, everything.”
I smile bigger.
“There isn’t much good.”
My smile twitches.
“In fact, today I’ve mustered up all I’ve got. It’s probably all gonna be used up for... maybe for good.”
“That’s okay,” I keep my smile, but it’s not easy.
He shakes his head. “You don’t know.” And he looks vulnerable. It’s strange. It’s scary to see him like that. I’m more frightened with him looking like this than when I see him angry. This is what he looked like in our limo right after the ceremony.
I swallow.
“It’s okay,” I assure.
“You don’t,” he repeats, “You’ve got no idea what you’ve signed up for.”
He moves up and lines his erection up against my entrance. It’s touching me right at my opening. I don’t move a muscle except for my heart, which is racing. I’m not sure if I’m even breathing.
“I had maybe this much good left, Holly.” His thumb and index finger are two inches apart. “It’s all here in this bed, what’s left of it. I’ve held onto it the way I’ve held onto you. But now, now that I’m about to tarnish you, make my flower wilt,” his lip curls, “That’ll be it. It’ll be all gone. It was saved. Now it’ll be spent.”
“No, it won’t.” I tell him. I reach to touch his face.
He catches my wrist and he holds it roughly.
“It will,” he grinds out.
“Goodness isn’t finite, Alessandro. You don’t have only so much to give…”
He laughs, “Such an optimist. My little wife.”
I blink. His wife.
His eyes warm for a second and then suddenly he looks sour.
I shake my head. “Do you think you won’t want me because I won’t be pure anymore? Because I’ll still be yours, only yours. No one’s touched me but you. And I’m your wife. Your flower. Some flowers bloom over and over in the right environment.”
His expression darkens and he stares at me for a long minute. “You want it? Want the rest of the good? Or you want it saved, Holly?”
His question throws me. But I say, “I want it,” and I say it without hesitation because I know I won’t use it all up.
“Good. Because waiting has been killing me slowly.” He slams his hips forward and enters me hard, fast, to the bottom of me, and the pain is extraordinary.
I gasp and cry out. But as I cry out, his mouth descends and he swallows my cry.
We’re joined. I’m his. Even more his than I was.
I feel this, I feel it straight down to my bone marrow.
He’s still. His lips are against mine. It’s a long moment and I’m feeling so much. So fucking much. He has my hand in marriage, he has my heart, and now my body is his, too --- explicitly his.
I’m feeling the pain. I relax into it. I submit to it. And then it starts to subside.
He lets out a cough and my eyes shoot open wide, because it creates a sensation in me that’s both pain and… not. I see he’s watching me and is expression is dark, pained.
I reach up and stroke his face with my fingers. The pain on his face? I feel it.
He’s so lost. In so much pain. He’s picked me to save him from it, whether he realizes it, is willing to admit it, or not.
I wrap my legs around his, digging my heels a little bit into his behind and he starts to move his hips. The pain ebbs a little. And then it transcends. I close my eyes and absorb it. I breathe slowly through it as it changes into pleasure.
His thumb grazes my nipple and then descends to where we’re joined. He starts to rub his thumb between us, at my clit. The feeling starts to change again and it makes me arch. This feels...amazing.
“Alessandro,” I whisper.
His mouth is on mine again and he’s moving in and out of me, gently. He’s deflowered me beautifully. He’s giving me what I asked for last night. He’s given me that all day long.
He’s mustered all that he can within himself to give me the wedding day I asked for. It means so much. It means everything.
My fingers thread into his hair and I start moving with him. I’m running my fingers through, grabbing his hair almost roughly, kissing him with everything I’ve got.
He rolls, taking me with him, and I’m on top. He’s still inside me and the pain is back. It takes me a second to adjust. It hurts even more this way, him so deep. But I power through when I see the look in his eyes.
He’s looking up at me like I’m… like I’m his world. If I could draw his eyes right now? My God. I’ll never forget how they look in this instant.
I start to rock a little, my knees planted at his sides. My hands are on his beautiful washboard abs and I move them up, over his nipples, to his shoulders. I rub my hands up and down his warm olive skin that’s lightly dusted with hair. It’s sexy. It’s manly. I lean forward and his hands come up from my thighs and are on my breasts.
“Give me your mouth, princesa,” he says and I lean forward and he grabs my hair and kisses me roughly, possessively, and I foolishly hope, beyond my own advice, that this is something I can keep.
Him, holding me, touching me, losing himself in me. Letting me get lost in him, not caring if I’m ever found again.
I have never known a feeling like this in my life. He’s not fucking me; he’s gotten lost in me. He’s making up for denying himself me, denying himself something he wanted --- by making every nerve ending in my body come alive. By making every nerve ending sing, then implode.
How have I gone from being the little girl with no daddy, a drunk mommy, an empty belly, wearing dirty tattered threadbare clothes in the dead of an endless Alaskan winter to finding myself in the arms of this incredibly complex man here in this lavish place? I belong to him. I am his. He saved me, he protected me, and now he has fully and completely claimed me.
And now I'm gonna find a way to save him, too. From himself.
He has put his cock in me. Everywhere. My mouth. My ass. And now used it to deflower me. He is drinking my oxygen away and I look forward to wherever that will take me.
I climax so hard, so big, that I’m on the precipice of a blackout.
I could die this moment and feel like I got something complete. I got it, I got to drink from the Holy Grail or whatever that thing is that life is supposed to be about.
He doesn’t stop. And it doesn’t stop. If anything, seeing that I’m coming spurs him on harder and I am still coming. I keep thinking it can’t get any bigger, but it does. I can’t. I can’t take anymore of it. I could die from coming too hard.
I’m whimpering and bucking, my body out of my control.
He cups me between the legs, squeezes hard, with a grunt, a claiming, ‘yeah, that’s fucking mine’ kind of attitude, and it doesn’t stop me from coming. It just makes everything I’m feeling freeze and then vibrate.
I’m flipped to my belly, he yanks me up by the hips, and then he slams his cock into my pussy once, out, twice, out. This is making my eyes roll back in my head. Then, instead of going in for a third time, he lines up with and then slams into my ass. I screech as he follows through until his pelvis is smacking my lower back dimples. He used my wetness from the front to get into the back and this time, it feels different. It feels almost good. I’ve already come and I’m still buzzing from it, and he’s just still lost in me, taking what he needs.
I can be that for him. The place he can get lost. The place he can be who he truly is, not who he wants others to think he is. This is sex, the thing people pay for, people take, people plead for. But whatever he’s doing to me? It’s not just sex; it’s more. I collapse, falling onto my face.
He keeps going. His fingers find my vagina again and he starts rubbing my clit. I start trembling, hard, my vagina convulsing. And then he comes with a roar inside the back of me, slapping my ass with his palm and then digging his fingers in deep as he roars out his orgasm.
I guess that’s how I’ll be okay. Not get pregnant. The grand finale in the back. I guess I’ll need to get another birth control shot. A fleeting thought of having his babies makes me feel all warm and tingly. Before I give it a chance to completely sink in, he falls onto my back. His full weight is on me and I can feel his heartbeat slamming into my shoulder blades.
He slides out, which hurts, then he rolls off, over, and then over onto his belly. And I roll with him and land directly onto his back and rest my head on his back. My pelvis is on his bum and it’s very comfy. I think I’ll sleep here. Every night for the rest of my life.
I kiss his cheek. I kiss his earlobe. And then I loudly kiss his back and roll over to the other side of him, almost falling off the bed. He grabs for me, saving me from the fall, and I snuggle into his side so that my lips are a breath away from his.
I pucker and his mouth claims mine.
“Beautiful,” he says. “My little Holly.” His hand travels up my face and rests with his fingers woven in at my temple. Pain returns to his face and he chews the inside of his cheek, looking at me with a wondrous expression. He looks almost boyish for a split second.
He shifts us over a little so that I’m not on the edge of the bed any longer.
“That was beautiful,” I say. “I love you so much. Thank you for making that so beautiful for me.”
He rolls to his back and looks at the ceiling.
I climb onto him, wrap my arms around his shoulders, and push my chin into his chest so that I’m looking up at his face.
He kisses the tip of my nose and squeezes me.
“Sleep for a bit.” He takes my hair into his hand and smushes my cheek against his chest. I hear his heart beating strong and sure. A nap sounds good.
I close my eyes and obey my husband.
My husband.
***
I’m vaguely aware of a hand pulling my hands together. The clink and ratcheting sound of handcuffs rents the air as cuffs are slapped on my wrists. I gasp, coming wide awake.
What on earth?
It’s pitch dark around me. Tape is roughly slapped over my mouth and he starts to talk. Low. Gruff. I feel his breath against my face.
“I’ve emptied what was left of my soul inside of you, mi pequeña flor. It’s yours to keep safe for me, okay? I’ll come back to you and rejoin it as soon as I can.”
He throws something over my head. A dark hood? And then I hear him say, “Take her.”
I’m screaming behind the tape over my mouth and I’m being pulled away from him.
No!