Chapter 22

TWENTY-TWO

Angelo

The truth hurt Sabella. I saw it in her pretty soft brown eyes, those eyes that remind me of a tigress. Her brother never told her, and I can't figure out why. To protect her feelings? Her fragile pride? I sure as hell didn't have any regard for her pride today. Slaying her wasn't my intention, especially not on her birthday, and a rare sliver of guilt pierces my conscience.

Because her birthday will never be special for her again.

There's no point in lying about it. From the day I used her, the date that's supposed to be a celebration of her existence will always leave a bitter taste in her mouth. I did what I did for us to be together. I told her more than once. But that won't matter to her, because I did it for me.

Tough luck.

I'm still marrying her tomorrow. Her beautiful face paled when I told her I own her material life. The betrayal and humiliation that passed through her eyes did something to me. I must have a heart left somewhere in the rotten cavity of my chest because I didn't like that look on her. I wasn't going to give her flowers, a dress, or a reception for her family, but I changed my mind. In my own way, I'm offering her a consolation. The fact that I don't do consolations says how huge this sacrifice is. Granting her family this courtesy takes more than its pound of flesh from me.

I'll do it for her. I'll do it to make up for all the birthdays I'm yet to ruin. There's no turning back from how we started out, no undoing what's been done. She can never look at the eleventh of January in a happy way, but if given another chance, I'd do it again. If that's the price to be with her, so be it. We'll find a way of getting over it. We'll live around that day. There are more than enough other days in the year. We'll make those count. In time, she'll come to appreciate her new home.

When I leave the villa, I drive to the Home Affairs office and book an appointment for a marriage license. The money I pay under the table gets us in the front of the queue. I already have all the documentation I need. Then I book a restaurant on the beach and order flowers.

Whether her family joins us for lunch is up to them. Whatever the case, for this day and this day only, I'll tolerate them. I'll make this sacrifice for Sabella even though facing her brother, the man who killed my family, without slitting his throat will take every ounce of self-control I possess.

The only knowledge that pacifies me is that they'll be facing the same. I made a deal with Ryan after what happened. We both stick to the rules. As long as no one steps out of line, no more bloodshed between our families will be necessary. I suppose we can pretend to be decent human beings for a single afternoon. For Sabella's sake.

When everything is in place, I drive to an upmarket wedding boutique and do what I promised myself I wouldn't. I buy a wedding dress. The design I choose is simple and elegant. The halter neck will emphasize the proud set of her shoulders, and the low cut at the back will expose the golden expanse of her silky skin and the fragile line of her spine. The soft drape of the fabric will sweep over the top of her ass, exposing the dimples above. She'll look like a goddess.

I have no idea if the size is right or if the dress will fit over her curves and in all the right places, but it will have to do. If the sales lady finds it strange that I buy a dress without letting my bride try it on, she doesn't show it. She's too much of a businesswoman to turn down a sale. Proving that point, she also sells me a veil, a clutch bag, and silk-covered Cinderella style slippers. At least I know Sabella's shoe size.

My rightful place is in my soon-to-be wife's bed—in my house—but I grant her another reprieve by booking into a hotel. I did promise to give her a day.

Come tomorrow, I'll be done waiting.