Page 34
From what I’ve been told, it will be a very public wedding. Plenty of photographers and high-level guests. That means no acting out on my part. I’ve been threatened more times than I can count. Put on a happy face, or else...
I shiver to think about that ‘or else’. What could be worse than marrying Dante? I don’t want to find out, but I don’t want to be his happy little pawn, either. It makes me sick to my stomach to think I’ll be helping him in any way.
“How long have you been a seamstress?” I ask Anna. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to talk, but I have to try. My own thoughts are too dark and dreadful to confront alone right now.
“Forever,” Anna mumbles. She’s young, but she works with great skill and I don’t doubt her claim.
“And you’ve never had to put arms on a dress so suddenly before?” It’s a stupid question, one she’s already answered, but I’m desperate for a distraction.
“I’ve never had to work for a man like Dante before.” Very subtly, the young woman pantomimes a spit.
My crushed heart leaps a little. Anna hates Dante, too! But she probably thinks I ‘love’ him, or some bullshit like that.
“He’s an asshole,” I quickly say, perhaps a little too loudly.
That gets Anna’s attention. For the first time since she started working on my dress, her eyes leave the fabric and fall on me. “You don’t like him?” she asks, her brows furrowed in both confusion and hate.
I shake my head.
“Then why are you marrying him?”
“Because he’s forcing me to.”
A lightbulb goes off behind Anna’s bright eyes. “You’re his prisoner...” Something else seems to be bothering her. Her gaze falls away from me as she tries to catch a thought. “How did you meet?” she finally asks. Her tone has completely changed. Now, a sliver of sly sympathy lines her once apathetic tone.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh, not wanting to revisit those dark memories.
“I can make this take as long as I want.” Anna’s smirk is filled with mischief.
“He stole me...” I whisper, my head suddenly feeling awfully heavy.
“... From Angel Montoya.” Anna finishes for me.
Now it’s my turn to act shocked. “What... How did you... Who are you?”
Anna’s gaze darts around the room, as if she’s checking to make sure the coast is clear. “I knew I recognized you. I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper before, hand in hand with the ‘mysterious’ billionaire. I’ve heard he’s returned. Did you know?”
It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but when it does, I nod. “I saw him...” The hot flash of Angel’s thick finger wriggling inside of me sends a warm wave down my tired legs. I can practically feel his wet lips against my neck.
“Do you think he’ll save you?”
“Yes.” Even though I’ve been filled with little but doubt since Angel’s failed abduction, there’s no hesitation in me.
“How romantic,” Anna sings, clasping her hands together.
I sigh. “It doesn’t feel so romantic.”
“It will when you get to look back on it all someday.”
“If I live that long.”
“You will. Angel will save you; he’ll save all of us.”
All of us? “What do you mean?”
Anna tenses up a little at the question. This time, instead of just looking around for eavesdroppers, she gets up and checks for them. Her head pops behind every curtain and dress; she even checks the door before tip-toeing back to my side.
“We’re starting a revolution,” she finally whispers into my ear. My skin tingles with anticipation, though I’m not sure what she means.
I shiver to think about that ‘or else’. What could be worse than marrying Dante? I don’t want to find out, but I don’t want to be his happy little pawn, either. It makes me sick to my stomach to think I’ll be helping him in any way.
“How long have you been a seamstress?” I ask Anna. It’s clear that she doesn’t want to talk, but I have to try. My own thoughts are too dark and dreadful to confront alone right now.
“Forever,” Anna mumbles. She’s young, but she works with great skill and I don’t doubt her claim.
“And you’ve never had to put arms on a dress so suddenly before?” It’s a stupid question, one she’s already answered, but I’m desperate for a distraction.
“I’ve never had to work for a man like Dante before.” Very subtly, the young woman pantomimes a spit.
My crushed heart leaps a little. Anna hates Dante, too! But she probably thinks I ‘love’ him, or some bullshit like that.
“He’s an asshole,” I quickly say, perhaps a little too loudly.
That gets Anna’s attention. For the first time since she started working on my dress, her eyes leave the fabric and fall on me. “You don’t like him?” she asks, her brows furrowed in both confusion and hate.
I shake my head.
“Then why are you marrying him?”
“Because he’s forcing me to.”
A lightbulb goes off behind Anna’s bright eyes. “You’re his prisoner...” Something else seems to be bothering her. Her gaze falls away from me as she tries to catch a thought. “How did you meet?” she finally asks. Her tone has completely changed. Now, a sliver of sly sympathy lines her once apathetic tone.
“It’s a long story,” I sigh, not wanting to revisit those dark memories.
“I can make this take as long as I want.” Anna’s smirk is filled with mischief.
“He stole me...” I whisper, my head suddenly feeling awfully heavy.
“... From Angel Montoya.” Anna finishes for me.
Now it’s my turn to act shocked. “What... How did you... Who are you?”
Anna’s gaze darts around the room, as if she’s checking to make sure the coast is clear. “I knew I recognized you. I’ve seen your picture in the newspaper before, hand in hand with the ‘mysterious’ billionaire. I’ve heard he’s returned. Did you know?”
It takes a second for the shock to wear off, but when it does, I nod. “I saw him...” The hot flash of Angel’s thick finger wriggling inside of me sends a warm wave down my tired legs. I can practically feel his wet lips against my neck.
“Do you think he’ll save you?”
“Yes.” Even though I’ve been filled with little but doubt since Angel’s failed abduction, there’s no hesitation in me.
“How romantic,” Anna sings, clasping her hands together.
I sigh. “It doesn’t feel so romantic.”
“It will when you get to look back on it all someday.”
“If I live that long.”
“You will. Angel will save you; he’ll save all of us.”
All of us? “What do you mean?”
Anna tenses up a little at the question. This time, instead of just looking around for eavesdroppers, she gets up and checks for them. Her head pops behind every curtain and dress; she even checks the door before tip-toeing back to my side.
“We’re starting a revolution,” she finally whispers into my ear. My skin tingles with anticipation, though I’m not sure what she means.
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