BIANCA
“Idon’t want her touching me.” I glared at Stella as she stood holding a hair dryer in my bedroom. I’d already put the silk slip and stockings on while she'd waited outside the door.
“B, she needs to get you ready—”
“For what?” I snapped. “I don’t need to be ready if I’m escaping.”
Vincent let out a soft chuckle. “You’re never escaping us. It’s silly to even think like that. We’d find you. I’m exceptionally good at locating what I want. And Dom is fan-fucking-tastic at it. And Levin—”
“I get it,” I griped. “You’re the gods of hide and seek. I still don’t want her touching me.”
“Please, like I even want to,” Stella said with a roll of her eyes. “I’d rather be doing anything else.”
“Like Hail, you fucking turncoat. I can’t believe Dominic even trusts you.”
“Dom and I go way back,” she shot back. “We have history—"
“Just dry her hair, Stella. We’re going to be late, and Dom hates that shit." He turned to me. "B, let her do what she needs to do. If you do, you'll be that much closer to getting the answers you want and maybe a bit of freedom.”
I studied him in the mirror's reflection before grunting, "OK."
Stella set to work, drying and styling. I was certain she was pulling too hard with her brush on purpose. When she burned me with the curling iron on the last curl, I launched myself from the chair and swiveled to her. She stepped back, her eyes wide.
“Total accident. If you come any closer, I’ll burn you again.” She held the curling iron out like a hot sword.
“I’ll have it stuffed down your throat before you make it to me,” I volleyed back, eager to try because she pissed me off that much.
She didn’t even need to say anything. Her presence alone was enough to set me off.
“Calm down. Both of you.” Vincent got between us. “B, let her do your makeup—”
“I can do my own.” I flopped back in my seat, grabbed the luxury makeup, and began rubbing moisturizer on my face before doling on primer.
Vincent watched from behind me for a moment, his dark eyes taking in every movement I made.
“Stella, leave,” he finally said as I set my foundation.
I had no idea what we were doing, but I’d dress like a clown if it meant I could get the hell out of there sooner.
Stella didn’t need telling twice. She rushed out of the room, calling Levin’s name.
Bitch.
I finished my eye makeup with a black-winged liner, Vincent never taking his eyes off me. Butterflies flapped wildly in my guts, but I didn’t dare let them soar. I couldn’t. It felt like a betrayal to all my damn confusion. I’d pluck their damn wings off if I had to. I needed time to think, and I needed to get the hell out of there and run like Fallon had told me to.
“Here,” Vincent said softly, unzipping the garment bag lying across the bed and pulling out a beautiful, black lace and beaded dress.
“What's that?” I asked, my voice shaking as I got to my feet. I’d expected something red. Definitely not something that looked like I was about to marry Dracula. The dress was beautiful though. The accompanying veil was black and beaded.
“Your dress. Put it on.”
I backed away. “No. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Please get dressed. You put it on, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
I shook my head. “It looks like a wedding dress, just in black.”
“B, please. Be a good girl for me, and do what you’re told, OK? I really don’t want to have to call help in here to get you dressed.”
“Where’s Dominic? Levin?”
“Downstairs, waiting.”
“Which one am I-I doing this with?”
“Does it matter?” he asked softly, confirming my suspicions without admitting it.
“Yes. Levin killed Fallon. Dominic is holding me here. You…”
“It’s not me, B. I wasn’t lucky enough,” he whispered as a sad smile tilted his lips upward. “I promise you can walk down the aisle and punch the lucky bastard in the face if you want. Might make this whole thing easier on a few of us at least.”
“I’m not getting married,” I hissed, my back against the wall as I shook my head. “No way. I came to the kings to escape an arranged marriage. I-I can’t—”
“Bianca,” Vincent said sternly, stopping my near panic attack with his use of my given name. “You’re doing this. There is no out. No negotiation. This is us keeping you safe like we promised.”
“Levin held a gun to my head! Dominic ordered him to kill me! Then Levin knocked me out. The back of my head still aches like a son of a bitch, and you think I’m going to happily accept this bullshit?” My panic was gone only to be replaced by pure fury. “No. No way. I’m not doing it. Kiss my ass.”
I stormed forward to leave the room, but Vincent caught my arm and stopped me. I tried to break away from him, but he tightened his hold and backed me against the closed door, his body pressed against mine.
“I don’t like it either, but this is what it takes to keep you alive. You want to find your dad? You’ll have a greater chance with the last name De Santis than as a D’Angelou, trust me on that. You want revenge on every fucker who's ever hurt you? As a De Santis you can get it. Trust me, B, this is the way to have everything you've ever wanted.”
“What about love? What about you?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
His expression softened, and he loosened his hold. “You’ll still have me. You’ll always have me.”
“Not if I’m married to Dominic.”
He swallowed, his dark eyes raking over my face. “Yes. Even if you’re married to Dom, you still belong to me, to Levin. A piece of paper won’t change that. I won’t let it.”
“What if I don’t want this?” I whispered. “M-my dad isn’t here to walk me down the aisle.”
He rested his forehead against mine and breathed out. “I’m sorry, baby. We all make sacrifices for the ones we love. This will just be one of yours.”
I gulped, hating everything about this. I should be planning which college I’d be attending and thinking about my major and parties, not worrying about becoming a mob prince’s wife and staying alive while mourning the loss of someone I loved. Someone who'd planned to betray me.
To save his sister. He would've come back for me. Right?
This was bullshit.
“Please, can you be a good girl for the night and do this?” Vincent murmured, cradling my face. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. It broke my fucking heart the first time I thought…” his voice trailed off. “I can’t do that again. So, please, if you ever gave a half a shit about me, do this. Stay alive for me.”
I exhaled. “OK.”
To win, to survive, to become queen of the bullshit, I’d submit.
But just for one night.
And then, I’d let all hell loose.