Chapter 65

Chapter 65

I woke up earlier than usual the next morning. My mind was buzzing with all the preparations we had to make. The wedding was only a few days away, and the mansion already felt like a ticking clock, its walls echoing with urgency.

The light of dawn streamed through the large windows, spilling across the wooden floors of the penthouse. I stretched slowly, feeling the weight of everything pressing on my shoulders. This wasn’t a fairytale wedding. This wasn’t even love. But it had to be perfect. For Dominic’s father. For mine.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes before moving to the edge of the bed, my feet brushing against the soft carpet. I had barely taken two sips of coffee when a loud knock startled me. It was Giselle, one of the assistants Dominic had assigned to help with wedding plans. She was always crisp and professional, with a clipboard in one hand and a calm expression that somehow made me more nervous.

“Good morning, Miss Eva,” she said, already flipping pages. “We have appointments set today. Dress fitting, cake tasting, floral arrangement viewing, and photography trial. Mr. Dominic said he will join only the last one.”

Of course he would. I forced a smile and nodded, even though my stomach twisted with nerves. “Let’s get started.” All those we've done meant nothing now that it has been approved by Hector.

The dress fitting was first. The boutique was a few blocks from the penthouse, but they sent a sleek black car to pick me up. I sat quietly in the back seat, clutching my phone like a lifeline. My father hadn’t said much since we dropped him off the night before, and Hector’s last words at dinner still echoed in my head: “Let’s hope this is the last mistake you make.”

At the boutique, a woman named Clara greeted me. She was soft-spoken but fast-moving, ushering me through a hall filled with gowns. It felt strange walking past layers of white lace and beads, knowing none of it truly belonged to me.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride,” Clara said kindly as I stood in front of the mirror. The dress she chose for me was elegant, off-the-shoulder with a fitted bodice and a trail that shimmered slightly under the light. “Mr. Dominic requested something simple but classic.”

I almost laughed. Dominic had made a request? “It’s lovely,” I said instead, even though the person staring back in the mirror looked like a stranger. I turned side to side slowly, trying to get used to the feel of it.

As the fitting continued, more people poured in—tailors, stylists, a photographer for trial shots. I smiled, nodded, moved as directed, and tried not to show how overwhelmed I felt.

By noon, we had moved to a luxurious café where the cake tasting was scheduled. The place smelled like sugar and butter, and I almost sighed in relief. At least this part felt a little normal.

I sat at a round table with four mini cakes in front of me: vanilla, chocolate, red velvet, and a lemon-strawberry blend. A baker named Jules explained the flavors and design options, but my mind wandered. I kept thinking about Dominic and the way he had been so quiet last night. He hadn't said a word the whole ride back home. Maybe he was regretting everything already.

I picked at the red velvet and nodded absently when Jules asked if I liked it. “Yes. It’s good.” I wasn’t sure what I had just eaten, but I couldn’t focus enough to care.

The next stop was the florist’s studio. It was nestled inside a glass building filled with light and vines that crawled along the ceiling like something out of a jungle. The woman in charge, a silver-haired artist named Marla, walked me through options of lilies, roses, peonies, and eucalyptus branches.

“Your bouquet should reflect your personality,” she said, laying out combinations. “What do you like?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. What did I like? Did it matter? “Lilies,” I finally said. “And white roses.”

Marla smiled gently. “Clean and elegant. Just like you.”

I smiled back, but there was a tightness in my chest that wouldn’t ease. If she knew the truth, would she still say that?

The last stop was at a photo studio, and Dominic actually showed up. I didn’t expect him to. When he walked through the doors, tall and unbothered in a navy-blue suit, the whole team straightened like something royal had arrived.

He barely glanced at me as he spoke to the photographer. “Let’s get this done. Quickly.”

I stood next to him in front of the fake wedding backdrop, a beach setting with pink clouds and waves. The photographer gave us poses to try, and Dominic followed along stiffly, touching me only when necessary.

“Act like you’re in love,” the photographer said, clearly annoyed by our lack of chemistry.

Dominic turned to me suddenly and brushed his fingers against my cheek. “Happy now?” he said under his breath.

I froze, unsure of what to say, before smiling tightly and leaning into his side. “Let’s just get this over with,” I whispered.

The rest of the shoot passed in a blur. Fake laughter. Forced closeness. And a silence between us thick enough to choke on.

When we finally returned to the penthouse, the sun had begun to set. Giselle handed me an envelope with the final schedule for the wedding weekend and excused herself. Dominic walked ahead of me into the penthouse, already loosening his tie.

“Everything ready?” he asked, pouring himself a drink without looking at me.

“As ready as it can be,” I answered, slipping off my shoes.

He finally turned to face me, his eyes scanning my tired face. “You okay?”

I didn’t expect the question. “I’m… fine. Just tired.”

He nodded and sipped his drink, then turned back to the window. He looked like he wanted sat something more but refrained.