Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“You’ll see.”
I don’t have to look to know that the two women are following us, I lead all three of them to the large sitting room in the east wing of the mansion.
As soon as we walk in, Elena gasps.
“I had planned to pick something for you to wear, but I thought you might want to choose for yourself.”
She doesn’t say anything, but the twinkle in her eyes says it all. She squeezes my arm, and I walk her inside to introduce her to the older woman waiting next to the racks full of white dresses.
“Margaret is a seamstress, the best, of course. You pick a dress, and she will make sure it fits perfectly on our wedding day.”
“Thank you,” Elena whispers before getting on her tippy toes and placing a light kiss on my cheek. The notion is so foreign and unexpected, I almost push her away.
“I’ve got some work to do. I’m going to leave you to it,” I say before leaning down and whispering into the shell of her ear. “Don’t do anything foolish. This room is heavily guarded, and I’m trusting you.”
She nods, my threat not stopping her from smiling widely.
I turn and find Marie and Celeste standing a few feet behind us. “Help her pick out a dress,” I tell them as I walk out of the door.
I already told the guards to keep an eye on her, so I’m not worried about her escaping. Still, it feels odd leaving her here. She’s done nothing on her own, not so much as shower usually. Anxiety worms its way through me as I enter my office.
Shaking my head, I need to remind myself that I can’t keep her locked up in our bedroom forever, no matter how enticing that thought is. I need to at least let her roam the mansion. I guess I didn’t know how hard even that would be.
Picking up the phone on my desk, I go through the contacts until Xander Rossi’s name pops up. Hitting the green button, I listen to the dial tone.
“Julian,” Xander greets me.
“Old friend, just making sure you got my invite.”
“I got the first one and the second one.” He chuckles. “Why a change of date last minute? Can’t wait to put that ring on her?”
“Something like that. I hope you’re still able to join us, even with the last minute changes.”
“Of course. We’re actually thinking about flying in tomorrow. I’d like to discuss something with you, and Ella is eager to meet your Elena. You know how she is.”
“Sure, why not.” Xander is one of the very few people I associate with that I actually trust. You could say we are almost friends. Definitely allies. The thought of Elena meeting him and his wife is oddly pleasant. Like I’m sharing part of myself with her.
“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We hang up, and I lean back in my chair. In two days, I will be a married man, implementing the last steps in my plan for revenge. Part of me feels guilty using Elena, taking away her small chance at finding love or happiness, but then the image of my mother’s dead body fills my mind. The stab wounds in her chest and stomach.
Elena’s happiness is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, and when this is over, maybe I can still give her a sliver of joy, but right now, the prize is Romero dead just like my mother. Revenge will be mine soon, so soon.
27
Elena
The room looks like one giant mass of dresses, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around the kindness that Julian has shown me. I’m half-tempted to ask him if he’s sick or if this is some kind of messed-up joke.
I don’t realize that I’m standing there with my mouth hanging wide open until Marie walks up to me. “Elena,.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “This is Celeste, our new cook.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Elena.” Celeste smiles, holding out her hand to me. I take it and return the smile. She, just like Marie, doesn’t seem to be much older than me.
“Do you know what kind of dress you would like? Ball Gown? Mermaid? A-line? Trumpet?” Margaret gets our attention and pushes her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She stares at me like a puzzle piece that won’t go into its spot. “You have the body for a mermaid, so if you’re undecided, we can try that one first. I want to be certain that Mrs. Moretti looks her finest on her wedding day.”
Shocked, I nod, my mouth refusing to work still.
I’ve only ever heard of two of the dresses she named off, the ball gown and the mermaid, and I know for sure I don’t want to look like Cinderella on my wedding day. Julian might have his sweet moments, but he surely isn’t a white knight, which fits since I’m not a princess in need of saving.