The seamstress is an older woman who has the personality of a doorknob.
Actually, I think she might be middle-aged, but her pinched face and unfriendly manner make her appear older and when she sticks me with a needle for the third time, I think she better be careful not to swallow all those pins she’s got stuck between her lips as she takes in the dress Stefan chose for the engagement party.
She has two assistants with her who seem to jump at her every command.
I have to say, as I stand on a stool in front of the full-length mirror, it’s not a bad dress. I want to hate it, but it’s pretty. If not a little more showy than I like, leaving more skin exposed than I’m comfortable with.
But it’s a pretty mauve satin with a faded layer of tulle the color of ashes of roses.
I think about my sixteenth birthday party. The pink roses. As much as I hated those, this is pretty. Elegant.
“Ouch!” I say as she tugs at the fabric at my lower back and I wonder how I’m going to get out of this with all the pins stuck in it.
She mutters something under her breath and when she straightens, I turn to look at the back and how the material drapes so low, you can see the swell of my hips.
The seamstress’ assistants, two younger women, help me out of the dress and I stand there in my underwear, my arms folded over my bare breasts as they unzip a huge garment bag and lift out the wedding dress.
My mouth falls open when it takes the two of them to haul the thing out.
“He expects me to wear that?” I ask.
No one answers as they carry the gown with its layers of material toward me. They hold it up to me and it’s not ugly. In fact, I’m sure it’s very expensive and that a lot of brides would die to wear it.
I’m just not one of them.
But maybe that has something to do with the groom.
They help me get into it, tightening the ties at the back of the corset-like top as I push down the skirts that make me think of a royal wedding, a dress for a princess.
“I’m not sure I’ll fit through the door,” I say, knowing no one will reply as I stare at my reflection.
But I stand there and do as I’m told and slip on the high heeled pumps I’m expected to somehow balance on underneath this monstrosity.
Miss Millie comes inside to peek at the dress. She gets a strange smile on her face, her eyes tearing up.
“You’re going to be a beautiful bride for him, Gabriela,” she says with the affection of a mother about her son.
Does she realize this isn’t for real? That I’m being forced to do this against my will?
“Thanks,” I say.
“I’m getting lunch ready for you now. Stefan will be here soon so you’ll want to pack a few overnight things.”
“Overnight?” I ask.
“Yes, didn’t he tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“The engagement party is in Rome. You’ll fly out after lunch.”
“Rome? Why Rome?”
She looks confused. “Your father’s hosting, dear.”
“My father?”
The seamstress says something to her, drawing her attention, and they walk out together as the other two help me out of the dress. Once they leave, I put on a bra and one of the summer dresses because it is too hot for jeans. I go out into the hallway and down the stairs where the table’s been set for lunch for one. At least I don’t always have to eat with him.
I go into the kitchen to find Miss Millie. “What do you mean my father’s hosting?” I ask.
She smiles uncertainly. “I’m sure Stefan will tell you as soon as he’s here.” She checks her watch. “Have you packed?”’
“Packed what exactly?”
“An overnight bag. You don’t need to worry about anything for tonight but take a dress for tomorrow. I’m not sure if you’ll come straight back or spend the day in Rome. He does like Rome.”
“When are we leaving?”
“Stefan should be here within the hour. Now go on, have your lunch first, then pack. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
No, I know he doesn’t.
I pull my iPod out of my pocket, go out to the patio and sit down at the table. I pop my earbuds in and switch on some music as I eat a sandwich and I’m about to put it down when a text message pops onto the screen.
I open it, smiling when I find it’s Alex.
“Gabi, I just got your messages and you have nothing to apologize for. What happened wasn’t your fault. I’m more worried about you. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
I tuck the iPod into my pocket and shove the last chunk of my sandwich into my mouth. “I’m going to pack, Miss Millie,” I tell her when I pass her on my way to the stairs. “I don’t want to keep Stefan waiting.”
At that she smiles. “That’s a good idea. Did you eat enough?”
“Yep.” I try not to charge up the stairs.
As soon as I’m in my room, I sit on my bed, lean against the headboard and type my reply.
“I’m okay. My punishment was watching what they did to you. Are you still at the hospital?” I ask.
“Long story, but I’m in Rome at my aunt’s house. And I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“Rome? What? Why?”
“I guess your dad wanted to be sure I wasn’t a threat. I’m sorry, Gabi.”
“He sent you to Rome?”
“Yeah. And if he finds out we’re talking…”
“He won’t. I won’t let him hurt you again, I promise.”
“I have to go. I just wanted to tell you I’m okay before I disappear.”
“You’re not disappearing. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Things have changed, Alex. But I’ll be in Rome too. Tonight.”
I hear footsteps as I begin to type the rest of my message and when the door opens, I quickly drop the iPod, bolting upright. I’m sure I look guilty as hell when I meet Stefan’s eyes.
I try to relax, clear my throat, pull the earbuds out of my ears. “Ever hear of knocking?”
He eyes me curiously.
I get up, wrap the earbuds around the iPod and shove it into my duffel, my heart thudding against my chest.
“It’s my house. I don’t need to knock.” He looks me over. “Are you ready to go?”
I nod, zip up the duffel. “Yeah.”
He seems surprised by this but nods, and gestures for me to walk out into the hallway. When I get to the door, though, he extends his arm to block my way.
“What?” I ask, my mind working a million miles a minute, not sure what I plan to do, but if I’ll be in Rome and Alex is there, I need to see him.
Stefan’s eyes narrow and I have to steel my spine to hold his gaze. I tell myself to remember it’s not like he can read my mind.
He closes his hand on the strap of my duffel.
I pull back, but I know I need to relax.
“I’ll carry it,” he says.
It takes me a full minute to relinquish the bag to him.
“Any weapons I should know about?” he asks.
I remember the knife under my pillow. Can he read my mind?
“More guns?” he adds.
I exhale. I guess this is Stefan joking.
I’m not in a joking mood, though. Nor will I ever be with him. “You confiscated my weapon, remember?”
He studies me silently, his gaze too knowing, like he’s some sort of lie detector and for some reason, it’s hard to hide from him.
I step away, break eye contact with a shake of my head. “I forgot my toothbrush.” Without waiting for him to reply, I head to the bathroom, taking a moment there to breathe and calm down.
He’s just carrying my bag. He doesn’t know anything.
There isn’t anything to know.
I pick up my toothbrush and walk back out to find him still standing in the same spot.
“Ready,” I say.
He nods and gestures for me to go ahead. I head down the stairs, feeling him behind me with every step.
The front doors are open and Rafa is standing there. He smiles at me and I smile back.
“Catch your breath?” he asks.
“Catch yours?” I retort, slipping past him and to the waiting SUV.
A soldier opens the back door and I step in, turning back to find Stefan’s glance shift from me to Rafa. I get the feeling he didn’t know about our run this morning. Get the feeling he doesn’t like the idea.
Good.
The cousins exchange words I don’t hear before Stefan loads my duffel into the back and climbs into the front seat.