All I had to hold on to was the plan Dmitri and I built. It was blind faith, since I didn’t even know if he realized how quickly the wedding was being pushed forward. But he promised, and I clung to that promise.
The aunt dismissed every opinion I offered in the boutique, settling on a custom design. Once satisfied, she marched me through shops for jewelry, shoes, and linens until I felt stripped of choice.
By the evening, we stood outside a café, coffee mugs in our hands, waiting for the driver. Instead, a different car pulled up.
Vincenzo stepped out. “You are coming with me now.”
Too tired to argue, I slid into the car. He drove in silence, while I sat drained from hours of pretending to smile and nod at hisaunt’s orders.
The ride was short. He stopped in front of a club where music already pounded through the walls, promising chaos.
I turned to him, confused. “We are going in?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t drink,” I said, uneasiness curling in my stomach. This was unexpected.
He opened his door without looking at me. “You will. You are the bride, and my friends hosted this party for us. Get out.”
My stomach sank. A party. Shit.
I knew better than to drink because I was dangerous when I drank. I agreed to things I would regret, things I might not remember. Sometimes I remembered half of them, which was worse.
Vincenzo came around and opened my door, his hand resting casually on the frame. I hesitated, but what choice did I have? None. I stepped out, my nerves already tightening.
The music grew louder as we walked to the entrance. I didn’t know what the night would bring, only that no one prepared me for this. Still, I promised myself I wouldn’t drink.
We went upstairs to the VIP lounge. Vincenzo’s friends were already there, lounging with glasses in hand. I recognized one of them from the café days ago. Two women were with them, too focused on dancing in front of the men to notice me. Their laughter cut through the heavy beat of the music.
I sat quietly, holding a glass without drinking. Vincenzo settled beside me, restless, sipping on and off while he and his three friends slipped into business talk.
One of the ladies, a blonde, staggered over and dropped into the chair across from me. She sipped her drink, eyes narrowing as if she were trying to see through me. “So, how do you like your wedding, Alessia?”
She was drunk. “Just simple,” I answered.
She laughed, “Simple? I don’t think that’s what’s being planned. Are you two even close? You look too distant for people about to marry.”
“You are drunk,” Vincenzo cut in.
“No, I’m not.” She waved him off and turned to the redhead across the room. “Come here, help me figure these two out. Do you see anything between them?”
The redhead leaned on the arm of the sofa, grinning. “You still don’t like Vincenzo, do you?”
The blonde tossed her head back. “I don’t. But I care enough to want to know.”
The redhead’s grin sharpened. “Then let’s find out. Let’s see them kiss.” Her words cut through the music, and every pair of eyes shifted to Vincenzo and me.
I froze. Kiss who? No.Never.
The blonde slammed a bottle onto the table, liquor splashing against the glass. “You kiss, or you drink.”
One of Vincenzo’s men chuckled. “She’s saving herself for marriage.”
“That’s enough,” Vincenzo said, his voice colder.
But they didn’t listen. They started chanting, banging the table in rhythm. “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
Was this the price for walking away from the man I loved, with only a fragile plan holding me together? They wouldn’t stop. And when I saw Vincenzo lean back, as if he would let them carry on, my panic spiked. Icouldn’tkiss him.