Page 68 of Threads That Bind Us
“I don’t feel like you were being selfish,” I promise, nipping at her neck and tasting the salt of her skin. It soothes me a little more. “I am a little shaky. I felt a little like I was having an out-of-body experience. Coming out of it was a little jarring,” I admit.
She doesn’t react at first, just keeps up her soft touches against my skin. After a minute, she exhales.
“It’s felt like that for me before,” she admits, and I roll off her chest so I can look in her eyes. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, avoiding my gaze. But I put my hand on her cheek and find her eyes.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, my chest tightening with guilt that I didn’t notice. She always seemed so elated, like she was floating on a cloud.
“I didn’t really know how to explain it. It wasn’t a bad feeling, just kind of surreal.” She traces the olive branches again, this time with her fingertips. “I looked it up. It’s pretty common.”
I’m not new to this world, but refusing to engage in dominance and submission for over a decade has protected me from the realities of dropping, even if I’ve witnessed it happen.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, swallowing hard. She smiles softly and kisses my forehead, and my muscles uncoil a fraction more. “This helps, though.”
“This?” she asks, kissing my jaw and neck.
I pull her against me, her skin against mine like an anchor in a storm.
“Just holding you. Listening to you.”
She wraps her arms around me and hums, her legs tangling with mine.
“We can do that. It helps me too,” she says, her smile pressed against my chest. The last bits of light through the window look like silver starlight in her hair. “For as long as you want.”
Forever, I think as the sun dips below the horizon.Forever is how long I want.
Chapter 24
Gwen
It’s a good thing we didn’t have to be at the Costa home until evening, because it took us all afternoon to recover from the jetlag and our sleepless night. Even now, I can feel Charlie’s lips against my neck, his teeth on my inner thigh. If I wasn’t half-terrified of what I was about to face, I’d drag him back to that gorgeous hotel and refuse to let him leave the bed until we had to get on our flight.
Emily sent a few more last-minute warning texts about the way the family interacts with each other and how Lucia, Charlie's mother, is fairing.
On the drive over to the house, Charlie is anxious. He shares more stories about his family, but his leg bounces and his grip on my knee is tight. I try to smooth the sky blue silk gown I’m wearing—apparently family dinners are a formal affair—but my palms are sweating and I’m afraid to stain the fabric.
The same driver from yesterday pulls through a massive wrought-iron gate and up a dirt path lined with oleander. At the end of the drive, standing like a fortress, is the Costa family home. The stone is bleached near-white from the sun, and towers topped with terracotta shingles are evenly spaced acrossthe facade. I have to crane my neck to see the top as we pull up, and the reality of what I’m walking into suddenly hits me.
These are some of the most powerful people in the world. Not by political sway or money, though they clearly have both, but mostly by the fear and respect they instill in the world. They are a small family, and yet they’re an empire. A dynasty I’ve somehow found my way to the center of.
I try to keep my heart rate down, remembering that Charlie wants me here. That, as intimidating as their family is, he wouldn’t have brought me here if he didn’t believe I could handle it. And as terrifying as walking through those doors will be, Iwantit. I’ve never felt more sure of my future than when I imagine it beside Charlie, finding justice for those who need it, making the world just a little safer. I want to learn and prove myself to them, to be a Costa.
Charlie opens my door and holds his hand out to me, and when he helps me from the car, I don’t see any hesitation in his eyes. Nerves, sure. But not doubt.
“We can do this,” I say, but it comes out as more of a question than a declaration.
“Together,” he replies, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. “Fate hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”
The foyer is unsurprisingly grand, bigger than mine and Ana’s old apartment, and a million times more opulent. A member of the house staff greets us and ushers us down a long hall, our steps echoing loudly against the high ceilings and plaster walls. Charlie seems to loosen with the familiarity of his surroundings, pointing out family portraits from generations past and art that his grandmother, Sofia, collected.
Chatter and laughter grow louder as we near an arch at the end of the hall. Charlie stops just before we enter and tips my chin up to look at him.
“They’re different from most families, but they are stillthe people I love most. And they will love you because…” he cuts himself off, and I feel my face flame involuntarily. I have to break his gaze, afraid of what he’ll say, or what I will. “Because you’re going to be my wife.”
I nod, staring at one of his cufflinks, trying to force my blush to crawl backwards. He gives me a moment to collect myself, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie. And then we walk through the archway.
The first thing that I notice is all the color. The walls are covered in bright art, and credenzas lining the walls host family photos, blown glass vases, and other trinkets. But it’s not just the decor that’s bright.
The five people seated at the table are also dressed in brilliant colors, mostly pastels, but also beautiful jewel tones. I catch Emily’s eye immediately, surprised to find her in a pastel purple floor-length gown. She’s changed her hair since I last saw her, the severe cut accentuating the strong set of her shoulders. She looks gorgeous as she winks at me.