Page 20 of Uprising

“Tell me then.” He persists.

“You’ll hurt Lara.” I state, my voice as hollow as I feel, as powerless too.

His lips curl, he kneels onto the bed. “Not just Lara.” He states. “I’ll punish you both.”

I let out a shudder. I don’t care if he harms me, he’s done it so many times now it feels like the pain doesn’t even matter anymore, but I won’t let him do that to Lara. I won’t let her get hurt because of my actions.

He plants a kiss on my lips as if he hasn’t just threatened both my life and my child’s. “Hair and makeup will be here in an hour.” He states like I don’t know it.

And then he walks off.

And I stay here, staring out the window, staring off as the memories, as his face, as the longing, as all of it haunts me.

When I do get up, I’m barely out of the bathroom and my mother is there, all smiles, with a bottle of champagne and glasses already filled and bubbling away in her hands

“Might as well start the celebrations now.” She says. She’s so happy she’s practically vibrating with joy right now.

I grunt in reply. I’m not celebrating. I have nothing to celebrate.

She tuts, taking my hand and all but wrapping my fingers around the stem. “Drink Rose, it will steady your nerves.”

I blink back at her. Is she an actual idiot? Does she really think that I’m nervous? That I’m some sort of blushing virginal bride? It’s not nerves I feel. It’s uncontrollable, unimaginable fury.

I’m so close to tossing the champagne in her face, to smashing the glass into her eyeballs.

Only the knock at the door breaks off the glare I’m giving her.

The makeup artist walks in, all smiles, and with that the charade begins.

I’m perched in a chair, everyone chats away happily around me. I don’t speak. I don’t do anything but stare at myself in the mirror as if I still can’t believe all of this is real. My mother flits back and forth, she laughs, she drinks glass after glass.

She really is having the time of her life.

My makeup is finished long before any outsiders get here. It’s intentional to keep up appearances because when the cameras arrive we wouldn’t want any record of the bags under my eyes, of the bruises marring my skin even if they are faded. No, I have to be flawless from the get go.

My bridesmaids arrive right on time. They smile at me, they simper appropriately but we are all aware of the part we’re playing today. They’re tick boxes. They get to live off this for the next few years, live off the fact that they were part of this particular piece of Verona history.

My hair is styled, in long flowing waves that pin against one side of my head so that a pearl and diamond piece of jewellery can slide in.

I slip into my dress and walk slowly back out to the ooos and ahhhs of everyone around me. My mother especially relishes this moment as she looks on at the fine creation she imagined now brought so artfully to life.

It’s so tight now I feel like I can’t even breathe. I take shallow breaths but it doesn’t help.

I slip my shoes on, they’re ridiculously high but exactly what I’d be expected to wear and then my mother pops the long cathedral veil onto my head.

“Perfect.” She says.

“Am I?” I reply.

She looks at me smiling. “Today you are.” She states and I can see it, that flash of something in her eyes.

I’m doing what she wants, giving her what she wants, of course I’m perfect today.

I drop my gaze, my eyes searching the room for the face I know I won’t see. The person who’s been banished to her room. Locked away, with only an iPad to entertain her.

Lara.

Darius has made it clear under no uncertain terms that she is not allowed out today. That she is not even to be seen. Not that I argued with him because I didn’t want her to see me like this, to see me doled up, to see me marrying another man, betraying her, betraying Roman with seemingly such little resistance.