80 – Wedding Night

80 – Wedding Night
Damien…
I left a gift for my father in his room, the same bottle I opened the night I celebrated Bianca’s death.
My old man deserves the same fate she got.
Leonora’s looking at me like she wants to stab me. I ignore her anger, I’ve got bigger things on my mind.
I hope he likes the gift. I made sure to deliver it myself, just in case everything went wrong. Everything did go wrong. I didn’t get to take the bride.
I was supposed to be with her right now.
Damn it, Leonor, why do you have to be so stubborn?
My godmother walks toward me, every inch the lady she pretends to be, greeting the few guests still lingering in this part of the party.
I'll leave here any minute and keep an eye on Leonor. I don't trust her or her impulsiveness. I only agreed to leave the main hall to avoid making the situation worse and to reduce my chances of having her all to myself.
I take another sip of my drink.
Leonora approaches, she’s managed to shake off the others, but her mask is gone. Up close, she’s all fury.
Without warning, she slaps me. Hard.
“You treacherous bastard.”
She regains her composure almost instantly, snatches the glass from my hand, and downs the rest in one go.
“I did what I thought was right,” I say calmly. “I did what I had to do to have Leonor. You know I’d do anything for her.”
Leonora looks like she might slap me again, but instead she sits down, crosses her ankles, and smiles with diplomatic venom.
“So arrogant. So ungrateful. After everything I did for you, I let you near my daughter when no one else would, I gave you access to her, and you tried to steal her from me. I should’ve known better. You’re your father’s son. That rotten blood runs deep.”
I pour another drink.
“I’m not sorry, if that’s what you want to hear. I don’t regret a damn thing. I’m only sorry I didn’t take her sooner.”
“You’ll never get near her again,” she says coldly. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ve picked a fight with the wrong person. I was there for you when no one else was, and I thought you had more of your mother in you. I was wrong. You’re just like the rest, and not good enough for my daughter.”
“Worse is the man you just married her off to,” I shoot back. “I’d never hurt her. She’s everything to me. To him, she’s just another toy. A shiny new one, sure, but toys get replaced. That’s what she is to him, and I won’t let him touch her.”
“Shut up, Damien! If you’d stuck to the plan, this wedding never would’ve happened.”
“No, godmother. If I’d acted sooner, the engagement never would’ve happened. I should’ve taken her that night, but I let her spend her birthday with you. And you managed to lose her.”
“My daughter isn’t your father’s toy, and she’s not yours either,” she spits. “She’s not your possession. Forget Leonor, because if it’s up to me, you’ll never see her again.”
“I respect you,” I tell her, “but don’t get in my way.”
“No, Damien,” she counters, standing. “You don’t get in mine. I let you be part of her life, but your privilege ends tonight. Watch your step, boy.”
She walks out.
I wait a few seconds, thinking about her last words.
I know exactly what the daughter of Carlota Moretti is capable of, my second godmother, my mother’s best friend. I know the type.
But maybe she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks.
I finish my drink. I’m done waiting.
I leave the room in search of Carlota. She’s probably dining right now, with her granddaughter and with my father. I need to speak with Leonor alone. Just five minutes. That’s all it’ll take for her to remember what we are.
She doesn’t want him, she was testing me.
That’s why she went through with the wedding. She’s waiting for me to come and take her away from him. Maybe she even used this to get rid of him, of his plans for the night.
I ask where the dinner is being held and head that way.
I’ve waited long enough. It’s time to take back what’s mine.
Dario steps into my path, looking tense. He wants to talk. I keep walking.
He insists.
“Dario, today’s not the day to test me. Move,” I say.
He stops for a moment.
“Damien, she’s our father’s wife now,” he says. “You’ve got to stop this obsession. She’s just a woman. Find another. We’ve got bigger problems.”
I slam him against the wall.
“You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” I growl. “So I’ll let that slide. But don’t ever get in my way again. Fix what you can tonight, I’ll handle the rest later. Not tonight. Get Chiara and Salo.”
I let him go before I waste energy on the wrong target. I’ll save it for the Dom. Tonight, we settle our scores.
The sound of heels draws my attention, Carlota’s assistant. Expressionless, as always. She’s here to deliver a message: Leonor and Romero never showed up to the dinner.
Leonor never showed up.
They’ve been alone somewhere in this hotel, for hours, while I sat here waiting.
I walk out, leaving the assistant talking to air. I won’t listen to any more orders from Carlota about keeping calm. That was my mistake, listening when my instincts told me to act. She can keep her assistant to soothe her nerves, I’m done.
I get in my car and head to the building not far from the hotel. I know exactly where my father would’ve taken her. If he wanted privacy, he should’ve chosen better. But even then, nothing could keep me away from what’s mine.
I take the elevator up. Kick the door open.
The suite is spacious, luxurious, open-plan, easy to scan. I head straight for the bed.
They’re there.
Leonor’s barely dressed, fumbling over Romero, disoriented.
I rush closer, ready to drag her out, ready for a fight if it comes to that.
She notices me.
The only light comes from the window, everything else swallowed by shadow.
“He’s not waking up, Damien,” she says.
I kneel, check for a pulse, fingers on his throat.
Nothing.
His body’s warm but slack.
I pull Leonor into my arms. She’s shaking, whispering that we should call someone, get help.
“It’s no use, Nor,” I say quietly. “He’s dead.”
I didn’t need to rush to stop the wedding night.