Page 19 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream (Dark Hearts #3)

S erafina

“Why isn’t she saying anything?” I mouth to Trilby as the seamstress pins and tucks the dress around my waist and hips.

I’m standing on a small pedestal with my wedding gown draped over me, counting the minutes until I can take it off and go back to pretending I’m not about to be married to a lying, cheating crime lord.

Given my lack of interest in the dress, Allegra hired the same seamstress who made Trilby’s gown for her doomed wedding to Savero, because I don’t care about this wedding and I don’t care who fits my gown.

That being said, I do remember the seamstress being a little more chatty back then.

Today, she has hardly uttered a word. Did something happen when Cristiano took Trilby to her final fitting ?

Trilby waits until the seamstress is out of earshot, then leans into my ear. “Let’s just say she made a comment about my figure and Cristiano made it known that he’d overheard.”

That would make sense. Cristiano wouldn’t bat an eyelid at ruining someone’s life if they dared say a word against my sister.

I look back at my reflection and sigh heavily. It’s a beautiful dress but I don’t want it. I don’t want this wedding. I don’t want this life.

Allegra looks on with a proud tear in her eye, but all I can see is a cage. A beautiful white cage. The silk clings too tightly around my hips, and as the seamstress flutters around with more pins, I have to force a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

The mirror returns a vision of elegance—ivory lace, delicate beading—but it doesn’t reflect the storm curling in my gut and the tingling that creeps through my veins when I struggle to contain my feelings.

In two weeks, I’ll walk down the aisle toward a man with blood on his hands and a thorned crown on his head.

But my heart is already bleeding, and no one seems to care.

“Is the bodice tight enough?” Allegra asks. “It looks like it’s bunched under here.”

My aunt gets to her feet and starts prodding at my hips.

“Allegra, that’s just my shape,” I say quickly, not wanting anyone to probe at me too closely. My figure hasn’t been a source of healthy self-esteem, let’s put it that way .

She ignores me. “It looks rippled. Can you see?”

The seamstress bites her lip and walks round the back of me to see what my aunt is referring to.

“Ah yes, it’s nothing. Just one of the layers caught under the bodice.”

She goes to lift the skirt and I shove my hands down to stop her.

“I can do it,” I say, forcing a smile.

“But Miss… it’s at the b?—”

“I said, I can do it.” My voice comes out sterner that I’d anticipated and both Allegra and the seamstress jerk their heads up. I feel Trilby’s eyes narrow beyond them.

I wave my hand. “I’m sorry, it’s just that my nerves are getting the better of me. And I’m very self-conscious. I will do it.” I step off the pedestal, lift the skirts and walk behind the changing curtain.

Once I’ve righted the fabric, I emerge with a renewed attempt at optimism. “There. I think it looks fine. Can I change out of it now?”

Allegra and the seamstress exchange a look.

“I just need to pin the skirt back in place, then you may change.” The seamstress adjusts the skirts and inserts the metals pins. “There, you can step out of it now.”

I frown lightly. “May I have some privacy?”

“Of course.” Trilby pulls Allegra toward the door and the seamstress dutifully follows.

As quickly as I can, I clumsily pull on my leggings beneath the dress before slipping out of it.

I can hear them whispering just outside but I tune them out. That’s all people seem to do these days—whisper a lot then pretend that everything is absolutely fine, nothing is changing and we’re law-abiding citizens without a single crime among us.

Just as I pull a T-shirt over my head, Trilby knocks at the door and my heart jumps into my throat. I run a glance over myself to make sure I really am dressed, then open the door.

She’s breathless when she speaks, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Andreas is here.”

“What?” I gasp. “He’s here? Right now?”

To my surprise, my heart is going ballistic inside my ribcage at the thought of seeing Andrew. The stupid thing hasn’t got the memo that Andrew doesn’t actually exist and it’s about to be sold to a cheating liar called Andreas who doesn’t care that he’s about to ruin my life.

Trilby has turned pale and is wringing her hands while she waits for me to act on this information. “He’s with Papa now. He’s asked to see you.”

“But, why is he here? The last thing he said to me was he’d see me at the church. Do you think he’s here to call it off?” My brain feels a flicker of hope even as my heart limps for a moment.

Trilby’s brows knit sympathetically. “I don’t think so. I think he came to New York to see Cristiano, so while he’s here…” She must see how my features have stiffened as she trails off, not finishing her sentence .

“And he’s summoning me? To carefully inspect the shiny new toy he’s pre-ordered no doubt.”

“He isn’t ‘summoning’ you and you’re not just a shiny new toy, Sera. I know this is hard, I really do. But is there a chance he might actually be a nice person? And you found him attractive not too long ago, remember?”

I shoot her a quizzical glance.

“Tess said you told her at the wedding.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “He’s forcing me to marry him, Trilby. He’s put an end to my dream career and he’s ruined my life. So, no. I don’t think there’s a chance he might be a nice person. He’s an arrogant, self-serving, lying, cheating murderer who?—”

“Hello Sera.”

A voice comes from behind Trilby and I jerk to the left just to deepen the flush that has surged across my skin.

Andrew— Andreas —is standing a few steps below the landing, his tan skin flawless and irritating, his dark suit echoing his rich charcoal eyes. I hate how handsome he is.

“Hello,” I reply, meekly.

“Join me downstairs,” he says, with familiar brevity. “This won’t take long.”

Trilby turns back to face me, her frown slightly panic-stricken.

“Yes, of course,” I mutter. Then I retreat back into the bedroom and pull on my shoes.