16. Bella

16

BELLA

T he morning of my wedding is perfectly beautiful and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. I open my eyes and see the sun shining, and I immediately feel a wave of nausea, panic flooding me as the memories of a different, beautiful, clear morning come flooding in. A different wedding. A different groom.

I've come a long way since then. I've fought back the memories of Pyotr, the carnage in the church, the terrifying lock of the doors that signaled the Bratva to begin their violence. The rough hands on me, the threats of the men, the betting over who would get me first when Pyotr was done with me. The way I was so sure that I was going to be violated, and then killed.

The thought of it happening again terrifies me. I can't shake the feeling that Igor might have somehow found out about this plan, that he's biding his time to attack today, while we're at the church. It sends a cold sweat prickling over me, and when Agnes knocks on my door and walks in with a tray of breakfast, I'm still in bed.

"Breakfast in bed for the bride," she says cheerily, a smile on her face right up until she sees mine. "Oh, Bella. Are you getting cold feet?"

My feet actually do feel very cold. But for different reasons than I think she's imagining.

"What has Gabriel told you about all of this?" I ask carefully, as she sets the tray down and goes to the closet, getting out the garment bag with my wedding dress. Agnes hangs it on the back of the closet door, letting out a sigh as she smooths her hands down it, unzipping it a moment later.

"He told me it's to keep you safe. And if there's one thing I believe about that man, it's that he'd do just about anything to keep a promise. He promised he'd protect you, and so he will." She shrugs, turning back around to face me. "As for anything else?—"

She must be able to read the expression on my face, because she gives me a sympathetic smile. "I can tell what you're thinking. But I wouldn't be so quick to think he doesn't care about you. I see the way he looks at you. I've been pressing him for a long time to not ignore what's right in front of his face. Maybe this will all make it a little clearer to him."

"What do you mean?" I sit up, pushing my hair out of my face. There's a slice of fragrant quiche on the tray, an apple muffin, and a glass of orange juice along with blueberry sausages, but my stomach turns at the idea of food. I'm too nervous—I can't imagine eating anything.

"You're good for each other." Agnes sighs. "I've seen it since the moment you came into the house. But Gabriel is stubborn, and devoted. He's full of guilt over moving on. I've seen that in him, too, over the years."

"He said he can't fall in love again." I pick at a loose thread on the duvet. "He said that from the start. I mean—" I break off, realizing that I just all but gave away what Gabriel and I have been doing, and Agnes chuckles.

"I'm well aware of what the two of you have been up to. It's been written all over your faces every time you came back up from the gym in the mornings."

My face flames at that, and Agnes chuckles again. "As for love, Gabriel can say that all he likes. But that man is full of the capacity to love. He just needs to figure out a few things for himself."

"And you think this marriage has something to do with that?" It sounds suspiciously like what Clara said.

Agnes shrugs. "Maybe. He's pretending it doesn't, just as much as you are. But who knows what will happen, in time."

"And if nothing does?"

"Then he's a fool." She pats my arm. "I'm going to go get breakfast for everyone else. You eat what you can, shower, and I'll come up to help you with your hair."

Agnes leaves, and I manage to drink the orange juice, picking at the muffin. Fear is swirling around my stomach, and I briefly consider the idea of going downstairs and telling Gabriel that I can't marry him. That we need to call the wedding off.

What if Igor attacks us?

I know Gabriel will have taken precautions. That he would consider that possibility. That if we're going to the church today, it's because it's safe. But the fear knots my stomach anyway, until I can't manage another bite.

Is it so much to ask to be happy on my wedding day? Just once?

The thought makes me want to laugh, but I force it back, because I think if I do, I might also start crying. And if I start crying, I'm not sure that I'll be able to stop.

I drag myself into the shower, scrubbing myself clean and washing my hair, standing under the hot water until the room is full of fragrant steam, and eventually, the water starts to run cold. I wrap myself up in a robe, blowing my hair dry, and come out just in time for Agnes to walk back into the room.

"Sit down," she says, gesturing to the vanity table. "I'll do your hair."

She brushes and curls it until all of it hangs down my back in heavy waves, and then she twists the front back, pinning it in place. "I have something for you," she says, and she sets a comb on the table. "Something borrowed."

It's a vintage hair comb, dark gold with age, done in an ornate filigree. There are blue enamel birds worked into the filigree, and I feel tears prick at the corner of my eyes. "Something blue, too."

"Exactly," Agnes says, slipping the comb into my hair. "I'll make your veil work around it."

"Thank you." I twist around to face her, impulsively wrapping my arms around her waist. "The first time?—"

My mother has been gone a long time. Clara has no part in the world of the mafia, so she wasn't invited to my wedding—something that upset me deeply at the time, and that I was incredibly thankful for after. "I did this all by myself, with the help of a couple maids," I say quietly. "At my first wedding. I'm glad it's not like that, this time."

"Nothing about this day is like the first one," Agnes says firmly. "Arranged or not, Gabriel cares about you. And he wants this to be a good day for you. I can promise you that."

That, I do believe.

I spend some time rummaging in my top drawer, trying to figure out what to wear under my dress, my cheeks heating up the entire time. I don't have wedding night lingerie, and I finally find a pair of white lace panties that will match the strapless bra that goes under my dress. I duck into the bathroom to put them on, still blushing when I take off my robe for Agnes to help me into my dress.

She slides it over my hips, helping me get my arms into the sleeves and zipping it up the back, before carefully doing up every one of the buttons overlaying the zipper. "You look stunning," she tells me as she pins the veil into my hair, around the comb. "You're a gorgeous bride."

"Is Gabriel going to see me?" I ask as I slip my feet into the low heels that I bought, and Agnes shakes her head.

"He's already left for the church. I have a bouquet for you downstairs. And Cecelia has a new dress that Gabriel managed to get for her, so she's over the moon about that."

My chest tightens at the thought that Agnes and Gabriel have thought about things like flowers. The past few days have been chaos, Agnes and I both trying not to let the house project fall behind in the wake of wedding planning—but there wasn't much to plan. Gabriel arranged for the church, and he told me he'd hired someone in town to make sure it was decorated appropriately. I think he knew that I didn't feel capable of handling very much that had to do with it.

"Thank you," I say softly, as we walk out together and down the stairs. Cecelia is waiting, nearly bouncing on her toes as she stands there in a pretty dress of light blue taffeta with a frilly skirt, holding a small bouquet of white roses and sunflowers. Agnes picks up a larger, similar bouquet off of a side table and hands it to me, and I take it, giving her a watery smile.

I'm trying very hard not to cry today.

My stomach is in knots for the entire ride to the church. There's ample security with us, and that only reminds me of the danger, of the possibility of something going wrong. I find myself wishing I had seen Gabriel this morning, if only because having him near seems to always calm me down, to make me feel safer. I don't let myself think about why that is.

It feels too dangerous, given what we're going to do today. All I can think is that I need to wall off every possible emotion, for as long as possible, so that I'm not even more hurt in the end. But it's hard, especially now that I'm no longer sequestered in my room. I'm overwhelmed, afraid, tired, and on edge—but I also know how important it is not to let any of those feelings show, for Cecelia and Danny most of all. Gabriel and I have already talked about how important it is that they believe all of this, that there's no sign of danger or worry for them to pick up on, and on that, we both agree.

Pretending is infectious, though. And as I try to seem relaxed and happy so that there's only excitement for Cecelia, I can feel it creeping into me, making me feel as if I really am excited for this.

As if this is really the wedding day I should have dreamed of all along.

When we pull up in front of the church, one of the security comes around to open my door. I slide out, careful of my skirt—and freeze in place as I see who is standing in front of the church.

For a second, I think I'm hallucinating. That I'm so tired and overwhelmed that I'm seeing things. But then she walks towards me, and I know I'm not.

Clara is here. She's wearing a gorgeous teal dress, strapless with a flowing skirt that splits up the side, her hair braided back and pulled up into a sleek updo. There's a brilliant smile on her face, and she half-runs, half-trips towards me in her heels.

"Oh my god, these cobblestones are going to be the death of me." She throws her arms around me, squeezing me in a tight hug. "You look beautiful."

"You look—what are you doing here?" I gasp, and she pulls back, still grinning.

"Gabriel flew me out here. He told me to keep it a secret. He wanted it to be a surprise."

"A—it's definitely that." I stare at her, still barely able to believe what I'm seeing. "It's the best surprise. Oh my god—" I press my hand to my mouth, once again trying to fight back tears that could ruin my mascara. "I'm so glad you're here."

And I really, truly am. I feel a quick jolt of fear, the thought of what could happen if Igor attacks us here, but I shove it away. I know Gabriel, and I know he never would have brought Clara here if he thought that there was any chance that could happen. I know he would never have his children here, Agnes, people he loves and cares about, if he hadn't taken precautions to make sure that Igor wasn't somehow lying in wait for us.

He didn't know about the day they broke into the mansion. A small voice whispers in the back of my head, but I push it away. He didn't realize the threat, then. Now he does. And I know he won't make the same mistake twice.

"Come on." Clara loops her arm through mine. "Let's get you married."

Agnes thrusts a smaller bouquet into Clara's hands, and it's then that I realize she must have been in on this, too. I shoot her a grateful look as we walk into the church, and I breathe in the scent of old stone and incense, just as the doors open and the music starts.

For a brief moment, as Cecelia starts down the aisle first, Clara following her, I feel a jolt of fear that threatens to take my legs out from under me. I should have told Gabriel I couldn't handle a church wedding, I think, fear turning my blood to ice, making me feel as if I'm going to fall apart. I should have told him that we had to have the priest come to the house, or something else ? —

"Bella." Agnes squeezes my arm, gently, where hers is looped through mine. "It's okay. Look."

She nods ahead of us, and I look up the aisle, and see Gabriel. Even here, at a wedding that isn't real, arranged for my safety and nothing more, even with all of this going on that's nothing more than a farce, seeing him calms me. It grounds me.

He catches sight of me, and his eyes widen as his gaze meets mine. His eyes slide down my body and back up again, and the look on his face, the smile that spreads across his mouth?—

All of this might not be real—but the smile on his lips looks real. The happiness on his face—it doesn't look fake.

It makes me want to believe that Agnes and Clara are right. That there's more to this than just what we need to do.

That this has something to do with what we want, too.

Just like that, the fear leaves me. I start down the aisle, Agnes' hand comfortingly on my arm, and I keep my eyes on Gabriel. All the way to the altar, all the way to Agnes putting my hand in his as she goes to sit down, Clara and Cecelia standing to one side. Aldo and Danny are standing at the other.

The priest is in front of us. For a brief second, I think I hear the sound of doors locking, the heavy clanking of wood, and then Gabriel's hand tightens around mine.

"You're okay, Bella," he says softly, his eyes meeting mine through the veil. "You're safe. I promise."

He knows. Of course, he does. He's always known what I'm afraid of, since I first told him what happened to me. And he's always known how to make it better, too.

I focus on his hands around mine, the warmth of them, the way they never make me afraid when he touches me. I focus on slowing the beat of my heart, on breathing, and I almost miss the vows until I hear Gabriel's deep, rich voice murmur I do .

When it's my turn, I manage the two words. I see Gabriel smile as I whisper them, and once again, I'm struck by the feeling that this is real. That at least some part of it is.

He slides a wedding band onto my finger. I slide one onto his. And as I look down at it, I realize something else, too.

The rings he bought are part of a set. His matches mine, a perfect filigreed pattern of petals and leaves, just like the band of my engagement ring, just like the one he slipped onto my finger a second ago. My heart constricts in my chest, my eyes burning, but I don't have time to think about what he meant by buying those before he's picking up my veil, and his arm slides around my waist.

I didn't hear the priest say you may kiss the bride. But he must have, because Gabriel's mouth is on mine, warm and soft, hungry in a way that only I recognize, even though he's kissing me almost chastely. For all its gentleness, the kiss goes on too long, though—long enough that I can hear the few gathered guests start cheering and clapping, laughter rippling through the church.

Laughter . Happiness. Feelings I've never associated with marriage, with weddings. But suddenly, I do. I feel it, flooding through me, and as Gabriel pulls back, his eyes meeting mine, I can almost forget why we're here.

I can almost believe this is real.

His hand wraps around mine as we walk down the aisle. It stays linked with mine all the way until we reach the car, and he helps me up into it, sliding across from me.

"Are you okay?" Gabriel asks. I look down, and I realize that my hands are faintly trembling. My left ring finger catches my eye, and I stare at it for a moment, at the delicately filigreed gold ring nestled up against the emerald engagement ring.

A laugh bubbles up from my lips as I stare at it. I bite my lip, but another giggle slips through, and Gabriel reaches for my other hand, his thumb rubbing across my knuckles.

"Bella—"

"I never made it this far before." The laugh turns into tears, as I knew it would, and before the first of them can fall, I'm suddenly in Gabriel's arms, being pulled across the car into his lap.

"You're okay." He wraps his arms around me. "I promise."

"The church—" I shiver. "It reminded me of?—"'

He curses under his breath. "Shit, Bella. I'm sorry. I—" He lets out a breath. "I thought it might. I should have asked you, but—it needed to be in a church. The more official and traditional it was, the better. And I thought maybe it was better to not bring it up at all."

I nod, biting my lip. "I'm okay now. I think—" I let out a slow breath, as the tears recede and I feel a little more in control of myself. "I think maybe it helped. Maybe getting through an entire wedding ceremony was exactly what I needed." Another hysterical giggle slips out, and before I realize it, Gabriel's hand slides around the back of my neck, bringing my lips down to his.

I gasp. My lips part, and his tongue is in my mouth a second later, tasting the wine the priest gave us for communion. I can feel him under me, through his suit and the thin lace of my gown, instantly hard. Instinctively, I turn towards him, and his hand grips my thigh, pushing my dress up as I straddle him on the seat.

"Oh god, Bella." He groans, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, his hand starting to slide into my hair before he stops himself. " Fuck ? — "

His hips arch up into me, that thick ridge rubbing against my core, and I let out a whimpering moan. Gabriel shudders, his hand suddenly gripping my hip hard, forcing me to go still in his lap.

"We're going to have a repeat of the library, if you keep moving," he murmurs. "And everyone will wonder why I've changed out of my wedding suit."

"Don't you have another one?" The words slip out before I can stop them. I'm throbbing and wet, aching for him. "Or?—"

I rock against him, once, rolling my hips along the hard line of his cock. Gabriel lets out a pained moan, his head tipping back, and I lean in, running my lips down the column of his throat.

" Oh— " He moans, his hand sliding around to grip my ass. "Bella?—"

I know I should stop. We should both stop. We're both breathing hard, the windows of the car fogging, heat building with every second. This only ends a few ways if we keep going, and all of them?—

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," Gabriel whispers. "Or I'm going to end up inside of you." His head tilts, his lips very close to my ear, brushing against the shell of it as he squeezes my hip. "I'm about two seconds away from unzipping right now and sliding into you. Filling you up the way you're begging me to right now?—"

"Why not?" My voice sounds hoarse, hollow to my own ears, full of desire that I know I shouldn't feel. I sink down against him, and I feel him groan.

"Because I can't come inside of you. I don't have a condom. And if I come anywhere else—" Gabriel chuckles roughly. "Someone's clothes are going to be ruined, and I won't let it be yours. And besides?—"

His hand cups the back of my neck, and he tugs me backward, leaning me back so that I have to look into his eyes. "I promised you I'd wait until our wedding night, Bella. That I'd make it special. And then you told me that you thought that was all we should have, so that we don't accidentally end up with even more commitment than we signed up for. In case you want to walk away at the end of all of this. So if I'm only getting one more night?—"

He leans up, his mouth brushing over mine again. His lips slide to my jaw, to my ear, and his arm wraps around my waist, holding me to him. "I'm going to make sure you never forget it. And that includes making you wait until I get you upstairs tonight, alone, with nothing to interrupt us. No need to stop. Not here, in the back of the car, on the way to our wedding reception."

"Reception?" I blink at him, curiosity cutting through my lust-fogged brain. "You didn't say anything about?—"

"I've been trying to keep at least some of this a surprise." He lifts me, adjusting me so that I'm sitting on the seat next to him, instead of in his lap. "I've arranged for a small reception back at the villa. It's nothing like what we'd have if we'd gotten married at home, but?—"

"That sounds perfect," I say softly, once again astonished by how thoughtful he is. That he planned for something I would never have expected. I feel a flutter of excitement at the idea of a small party, with just the people I care about. I wonder if there's anything wrong with just enjoying today. It's true that it's not what I would have chosen, that it's an arrangement, what I've been trying to avoid for so long. But it's also Gabriel and I. Gabriel, who has been kind, gentle, and protected me. Who has made sure that I could be free of my father, who has stood up to every danger that threatened us.

Even if it is, at its core, a sham to protect me and nothing else—why not be happy for today?

The front door to the villa is open when we arrive, cars parked at the edge of the landscaped path that leads up to it. Gabriel leads me through the house to the back, where I gasp as he opens the door, seeing what's in front of me.

The deck behind the house is strewn with flowers—twined along the railing surrounding it, in arrangements on the long table, spilling over onto the runner stretched across it. There's a buffet of food laid out for us, white wine and champagne chilling in ice buckets, and red wine, rose, and bottles of liquor and mixers set on a table on the far side. A dance floor has been set up on the lawn, covered with a tent frame that has fairy lights strung all along it. I can hear music playing, and I turn to look at Gabriel, my eyes suddenly burning.

"It's not an opulent reception," he says quietly. "If this were all different, you could have had anything money could buy. This was what I could manage in a short amount of time, and since it's only a few?—"

He breaks off as I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. I have the urge to kiss him, right there in front of everyone, but I hold back, unsure of what his reaction might be. Other than our kiss in the church today, I've never kissed him in front of the children, and this—it's not a real marriage. I have to remind myself of that, over and over, because it feels real.

The reception passes by in a blur. Agnes and Aldo are full of congratulations, and some of the estate staff—most of whom I've never met, come by to say congratulations as well, and have a drink. Cecilia and Danny want to know when the cake will be served, and Clara pulls me aside to hug me and whisper that she can't believe Gabriel did this.

"There's only a few people here," she says softly. "He didn't have to throw a party for this, and?—"

"He didn't want me to be disappointed." I bite my lip, looking over at where Gabriel is talking to Aldo, a grin on his face as he pours himself a glass of cognac.

Clara rolls her eyes so hard that I think they might disappear into the back of her head for a moment. "Are you serious, Bella? He did all of this because he doesn't want to disappoint you?"

"Why else?" I ask softly, taking a nervous sip of my champagne. I don't know how much longer Gabriel wants to stay down here for, and every time I think of what comes after, my stomach dips and swirls with nervous anticipation, mixed with trepidation. It's not as if tonight is going to be my first time, but I feel as anxious as if it were.

If I'm only getting one more night, I'm going to make sure you never forget it. That echoes in my head—what he said in the car on the way here—every time I think about going upstairs with him in a little while.

"Bel." Clara shakes her head, looking at me as if I should understand. "I know you don't have a lot of experience with men, but most nice men I know wouldn't think to do all of—this." She looks around the room. "You mean a lot more to him than you think you do."

My stomach swirls nervously again. "I don't know," I whisper, and Clara snorts.

"I do. But I guess it's just going to take time to figure it out." She nods towards where Gabriel is standing. "I think he's looking for you."

Gabriel is looking in my direction. His mouth curls up in a smile, and he tilts his head, as if he's asking me to walk over to him. I glance at Clara, who mouths for me to go, and even though I feel guilty just leaving her on her own when she doesn't know anyone other than me very well, I cross the deck to where Gabriel is standing.

"Ready for a first dance?" he asks, holding out a hand. "Right after the cake, because I think the kids are going to riot if they don't get that soon."

"They're never going to sleep." I laugh, and he shakes his head.

"That's Agnes' problem tonight." His hand touches mine, fingers brushing against the back of my hand. The promise in just that small touch makes me shiver. The intimacy of the conversation does, too—the easy way we talk about Cecelia and Danny together. I'm technically their stepmother now, I suppose, and the thought makes my chest tighten all over again. This conversation makes me feel like that's true.

The cake is strawberry, with a whipped cream frosting and fresh berries on the top. Gabriel cuts a slice, breaking off a small piece, and gently putting it to my lips. When I take the bite, his finger brushes over my lower lip, and I feel a shiver all the way down my spine.

When I do the same to him, I feel his tongue brush against my fingertip, and my knees feel a little weak.

"Let's dance?" His hand wraps around mine, and when I nod, he leads me to the dance floor. Agnes and Aldo are swaying at one side, and I see that Clara is dancing with one of the younger members of the estate staff, a dark-haired Italian man who looks only a year or two older than her, his gaze resting on her face with the promise of an interesting night ahead for both of them.

I smother a grin. Good for her, I can't help but think. Clara deserves a little vacation fling, especially after flying all the way out here for a quick, arranged wedding between Gabriel and me.

Gabriel sees the expression on my face, one eyebrow rising, and I nod towards Clara. He smirks, his hand on my lower back pulling me a little closer.

"I think it might be time for us to go upstairs, soon."

My heart stutters in my chest. I could tell him no. I'm not a virgin—there's no blood on the sheets to wave as proof, nothing but his word and mine as to whether or not the marriage is consummated tonight. Igor won't care one way or another—he'll cut down whoever he has to in order to get to me, no matter what. And as for whatever allies Gabriel can leverage with the new title of wife that he's given me—they'll just have to trust that word.

I know Gabriel would never make me go to bed with him if I told him no. But I don't want to make him a liar—and I can't deny that as nervous as I am, I want tonight, too.

We can't keep doing this. But I want one more night.

When the dance is finished, Agnes collects Cecelia and Danny, bringing them over to say goodnight. "You looked so pretty today, Bella," Cecelia whispers, squeezing me in a hug before she and Danny both hug Gabriel, and then follow Agnes upstairs. Gabriel tosses the last of his cognac back, as they disappear inside, and gives me a look.

Nerves flutter through me. "One more dance," I tell him, and Gabriel's fingers run down my spine as we move back onto the dance floor.

"One more," he murmurs, the music picking up a little, and my heartbeat does, too. I can feel his eyes on me, feel the tension in his body, the anticipation. By the time the song ends, my own pulse is fluttering in my throat, my hands shaky.

Gabriel steers me away from the dance floor, saying his good nights. I look for Clara, but she's still dancing with the handsome Italian man, and I don't want to interrupt them. I feel my face heat a little as Gabriel leads me to the back door of the house, knowing that anyone still outside knows where we're going, and why. But for some reason, that thought makes my heart beat a little faster, too.

It's not the first time. Not even the second.

But it feels like it's going to be different from all the rest.