My brother started laughing.
“She what?”
“She won’t let me back in my suite. Tradition. She parked Tiny outside with orders to hogtie me if I try.”
That only made Vincent laugh harder. I didn’t mind being the butt of the joke. He didn’t laugh very often.
“She’s afraid you are going to pluck the fruit a day early? Who cares?”
“Evie cares,” I muttered, resigning myself to a night of misery. “She’s as traditional as Auntie when it comes to that kind of thing.”
“Traditional? I’d say she’s more sheltered than traditional.”
“You like her, though.”
He nodded and sighed, looking mournful.
“I do like her.”
He didn’t have to say what we were both thinking. That we’d fucked her life by bringing her into this family. That she was a responsibility we were both afraid to mess up.
Him, because he knew that letting Evie get hurt would destroy me. Me, because I didn’t want to live in a world without that brave, beautiful, brilliant girl.
So yeah, we were both pretty fucking wound up about it.
“How the hell am I supposed to get through this night?” I asked, mostly rhetorically.
“I’ll be here for you. Just don’t do anything crazy.”
“Like what?”
“Like shooting Dad or breaking down Evangeline’s door.”
I laughed. It was too funny, really. How many men were this eager for their wedding nights? Not many, I wagered. Not for the last hundred years or so.
Breaking down the door to my suite definitely sounded appealing. I wouldn’t mind going through Tiny to get what I wanted. I was feeling like a damned caveman!
And I still had my father to contend with.
A commotion in the hallway made us exchange a look.
“Speak of the devil and he will appear,” Vincent said with a sigh. “Let’s go.”
I nodded and stood, downing the rest of my drink. I needed it.
The mean old bastard was waiting.
Chapter 28
Evangeline
Today was my wedding day. A Thursday. After today, I would be a different person.
I would be Mrs. Antonio Margarelli.
I stared at the ceiling, a strange feeling in my chest. I was resigned to my fate, sure, but there was something else. Was that also . . . anticipation? I sighed and rolled over, pulling a pillow to my chest. I was looking forward to being married as much as I was scared about it. There was no point in lying to myself at this late date.
My chance to back out was fading fast. Not that I really could back out. I couldn’t even imagine saying no to Tony. Not about this. But the illusion of choice was still there.
The reason for the wedding was awful, but the wedding itself? I was looking forward to it. Or at least, I was looking forward to the wedding night.
Or afternoon, since the ceremony would technically be over after the luncheon.
Nervous, yes. Dreading it? No.
Antonio would take care of me. I knew that. He wouldn’t be rough. He wouldn’t hurt me.
A part of me I hadn’t known existed was beyond curious to be with him. It was my first time, but somehow, it felt more momentous because it was our first time.
I couldn’t have explained it if I tried.
I exhaled deeply and forced myself to get out of bed. I was more nervous about meeting Mr. Margarelli than I was about the ceremony itself. I felt surrounded by people but also profoundly alone.
That feeling only lifted when Tony was near. I had started to look forward his presence. More than that. I’d started to crave it.
Maybe I did have Stockholm syndrome, after all.
I slid on the silk and lace robe that matched my nightgown and wandered over to the window. It was odd wearing clothes that had been purchased for me, but I was getting used to it. And even I had to admit that my future husband had exquisite taste, even if it was all fancier than anything I’d ever hoped to wear.
I crawled into the window seat and stared out at the sky. It was early and the sky was gray and cloudy. The sun might burn it off in time for the wedding, I mused. But it might not.
My eyes drifted lower, to the street. That’s when I saw her. The last person on earth I expected to see.
My mother was outside. Just standing there. Staring at the house. She looked up and saw me. For the longest time, we just stared at each other. My heart was pounding so loudly I could feel it in my throat.
It was saying ‘stay away.’
She was in danger, just by being there. How had she found me? A ferocious feeling rose up inside me. I wanted her gone. We couldn’t have contact. Not until things had settled and I had earned my freedom. She had to stay away from the mess I had gotten myself into.
She had to be safe.
At the same time, I wanted her there with every fiber of my being. I wanted her to wrap her arms around me and tell me that everything would be okay. I wanted her by my side for my wedding. To soothe my nerves and give me a mother-daughter talk. But she couldn’t do that if she got herself killed. Not ever.