Chapter 26 The Perfect Dress
I sat rigidly on the edge of an ornate sofa in the living room, my fingers wrapped around the small bird necklace Marco had given me.
The metal was warm from my skin, and I pressed it against my chest like a talisman, like it could somehow protect me from what was coming.
Across the room, Giovanni lounged in a leather chair with an iPad, scrolling through something with the casual disinterest of a man who had nothing but time.
Occasionally, his dark eyes would flick toward me, and every time they did, my stomach twisted into knots.
Around them, wedding dress designers flitted about like exotic birds, their hands gesturing dramatically.
Ten dresses hung on a pristine white rack, each one more elaborate than the last.
This was it. I was actually going to marry him.
"Is something wrong?" Claire asked softly, appearing beside me with two glasses of water.
"No," I lied, forcing a tight smile. "Just nervous."
It was more than nervous, but I lost the will to fight anymore.
A tall man with long, curly hair and warm brown eyes suddenly appeared in front of me, and before I could process what was happening, he pulled me into a hug.
"Arya! Bellissima! I'm Mario,” He suavely placed a hand on his chest, “and I am truly honored to dress you for this momentous occasion."
Despite everything, I found herself smiling. There was something genuinely kind in his demeanor.
"Thank you," I said. "It's nice to meet you."
"Come, come," Mario said, taking my hand and leading me toward the rack of dresses. "Let me tell you about the journey these beauties took to get here. Each one is handpicked, each one tells a story. The gems alone-"
"How did you find dresses in my size?" I cut in, my eyes narrowing as they flicked toward Giovanni. "On such short notice?"
I held his gaze, throwing the question like an accusation. How dare he take away even the small detail of choosing something of my own?
Giovanni cocked his head slightly, his expression unreadable. But I knew it was a challenge.
I looked away first.
Mario handed me the first dress; a mermaid gown with diamonds clustered at the bust, strapless and impossibly elegant.
I took it without comment and disappeared into the fitting room with Claire, who helped me into it.
When I stepped out, the reaction was immediate.
"Oh my God," Marco breathed.
"Magnifico!" one of the designers exclaimed.
Even Enzo let out an appreciative whistle.
But Giovanni's expression darkened. "Change."
"What?" I blinked. "Why? What's wrong with it?"
"Your breasts are spilling out," he said flatly, not even looking up from his iPad. "Change."
Heat flooded my face but before I could form a response, Mario appeared with another dress, his hands slightly trembling as he handed it to me.
The second dress was a ball gown with delicate straps that fell around me upper arms, the skirt billowing out like I was a princess in a fairy tale.
When I emerged, Maria actually gasped.
"You look like a princess," Maria said, her hand pressed to her chest.
Even the other designers nodded their approval. Mario looked relieved.
Giovanni set down his iPad and stood, and for a moment, I thought he was pleased until…
"No," he said. "Try another."
"What do you want exactly?" I snapped, my patience finally gone. "What dress could possibly satisfy you?"
He gave me a look that made my blood run cold. "Keep trying. If we don't find one, Mario will face the consequences."
The casual cruelty of it made my breath catch and Mario's face went pale.
"That's inhumane," I said, my voice sharp with disgust. "This isn't his fault. He's just-"
"Mario," Giovanni said coldly, cutting off my protest.
The designer jumped forward, his hands shaking noticeably as he pressed another dress into my hands.
His eyes were pleading, and inside me snapped.
"I'll pick one myself," I announced, stalking toward the rack.
I grabbed a random dress without looking at it, just wanting to end this nightmare. I threw a glare at Giovanni as I turned toward the fitting room, but he wasn't looking at me anymore.
He'd already dismissed me, returned to his iPad like I was nothing.
When I stepped into the fitting room, I finally looked at what she'd grabbed.
A white wedding dress, but not the traditional kind. It was fluffy, almost cloud-like, made of layers of tulle and silk that seemed to defy gravity. Tiny straps held it up, and it came with a delicate tiara that caught the light like starlight.
It looked like she was wearing clouds, like she'd been wrapped up in a fairy tale.
"Oh," Claire breathed, helping me into it. "That's an unconventional choice, but... wow. Miss Arya, you can make anything look good."
"Thank you," I said quietly, staring at myself in the mirror.
I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. I looked ethereal and worse?
I looked like someone getting married for love, not coercion.
I adjusted the tiara and stepped back out into the living room and everything stopped.
Conversations died mid-sentence. The designers froze. Enzo's eyes went wide, even Maria gasped.
And Giovanni-
He set down his iPad and stood, his dark eyes traveling over me from head to toe. The intensity of his gaze made me hyperaware of every inch of her body.
I could feel him claiming me with nothing but his eyes.
"Well?" I asked, lifting my chin and placing one hand on my waist. "Are you going to reject this one too?"
Giovanni stood and walked toward me, he reached out and took my chin in his hand, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.
My breath seized in my throat.
"On the contrary," he said. "no."
He leaned in close enough that his minty breath fanned across my face. His dark grey eyes, reminded me of the raging sea during a storm, and it held mine captive.
"Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I-“ I started, but he was already guiding me away from the rack of dresses.
There was no music, but it didn't seem to matter. His hand found the small of my back, and he pulled me close, swaying gently as if they were in a ballroom instead of a living room surrounded by wedding dresses.
My heart was thundering against my ribs. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, could smell his cologne mixed with something uniquely him.
"This dress," he murmured, his lips dangerously close to my ear, "suits you. You look like an angel."
"I look like a cloud," I said, trying to inject some lightness into my voice and failing miserably.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, and there was something almost tender in his expression. "My angel. My cloud. Mine."
The possessiveness in his voice should have terrified me. Instead, it sent a thrill down my spine that I absolutely refused to acknowledge.
"In two days," he said softly, "you'll be completely mine.”
He released me. stepping back, and I was left standing alone in the fluffy cloud of a wedding dress.
Around us, the designers began to murmur again, breaking the spell. But I was still trapped in the intensity of his gaze, still feeling the ghost of his hand on my back.