Page 44 of Forbidden Bride (Forbidden 1)
“The cake is the best part,” he says.
Ugh. Was that a compliment? Did he mean—I don’t want to think about it.
Watching him from the corner of my eye, I listen as he instructs the attendant on how to take in the dress. Make the bodice more formfitting. Measure me for a push-up bra for some cleavage. Add another crinoline to the skirt poof. Oh God, I really am going to suffocate.
“It’s beautiful, Pietro,” my mom gushes. “Really beautiful.”
“It’s heavy,” I whisper to her. “And it itches.”
“Karina,” she hisses under her breath. “Do you have any idea what this dress costs? Will it kill you to wear it for a couple of hours to make your husband happy?”
Ah, there it is. Yet another reminder of my purpose in life. To make my husband happy.
Instead of responding, I lift the skirts as best as I can and waddle back to the dressing room. The attendant is nowhere to be seen, so I let myself in to the cavernous room and attempt to sit on the plush settee for a moment to get myself together.
But I can’t. The froth poofs up around my face as I try to lower myself onto the seat, blocking my view and disorienting me. Batting uselessly at the layers, I’m about to shout for help when someone takes my hand and guides me gently down so I can sit. When I look up to thank the attendant, my jaw drops.
Standing before me is my Romeo.
“Marco.” My mind and body come to life. “What are you doing here?”
His self-assured smirk almost undoes me completely. “I came to see this…statement piece you’re wearing.”
Carefully batting down more of the fabric, he kneels next to me and takes my hands in his. Amusement shines in his eyes, but I know he’s not laughing at me. Though I wouldn’t blame him if he was.
“You can’t be here,” I tell him worriedly. “You’ll get caught. We’ll both be in trouble.”
“The owner is an old friend. Your entourage is currently being schmoozed with champagne and caviar to buy us some time.”
I lean my forehead against his, staring into his eyes. “I’m glad you came,” I whisper.
My prince. Here to rescue me.
“I’m just glad I’m here to help you find your way out of this monstrosity.”
So many things run through my mind at that comment. His, too. His expression turns heated as he tucks a stray wisp of hair behind my ear. Helping me stand again, he turns me to face the mirror. My chest grows heavy, my breath picking up as he starts to undo the hook-and-eye closures. One by one, the bindings pop free, and then the half-zipper comes down too. The bodice pops forward, exposing my bare breasts. For a second, I have the urge to cover up with my arms, but then I remember. This is Marco. And I don’t want to hide a single thing from him.
His nails lightly rake the back of my neck as he moves my hair to one side. My nipples peak in response, clearly visible in the mirror. Marco’s eyes rivet to my reflection in the mirror and then he loosens the dress fully and helps me step out of it. He gathers the dress to the side and stands behind me again. Hands on my shoulders, palms smoothing down my arms and back up again as he leans in to kiss the side of my neck.
“Marco.” I practically moan his name, my brain awash in the instant, swoony feelings his touch always causes.
“You didn’t get any pleasure this morning,” he whispers. “Trust me when I tell you that I will make up for it a hundred times over.”
I wish that was true. That we had the time to make it happen. My face goes hot again at the mention of what we did on the stolen phone.
Slowly massaging my neck between his kisses, he trails his fingers down my spine and then palms my ass. My breasts ache for his touch and it’s hard not to squirm. Just as I’m about to turn around and press myself into him, he backs up and retrieves my clothes. Swallowing down my disappointment, I step into the skirt he holds for me. Our eyes catch in the mirror as he zips it up the back.
Emotions flood me. I’m overwhelmed and devastated at the same time. I want him, but I can’t have him. Not now, not ever. But I need him to know—
“I love you,” I tell his reflection. It’s just a little bit easier to say it this way, looking in his eyes through the mirror instead of mere inches away.
Marco goes still. My heart sinks and floats simultaneously, because even if he doesn’t feel the same—even if saying the words was a misstep—they felt right, and I don’t regret a single syllable. At least now he knows. I won’t spend the rest of my life wishing I’d told him.
He spins me and pulls me against him, pressing my bare breasts into the hardness of his chest. As I look up at him, he dips his head and takes my lips, kissing me until I’m breathless and dizzy and so in love, my heart feels like it might give out.
“I have to go,” he whispers against my lips. “Wait for me at the end of your street at midnight.”
“I can’t.”
“Try, Karina.”
With that, he kisses me one last time before walking through the curtain that separates the private dressing room from the rest of the rooms in the back. And then he’s gone.
Try, Karina. His words echo in my mind.
I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get away with it, but I’ll do my best—I’m going to try. I did steal and destroy a cellphone today, after all.
Who am I becoming?
Turning again to the mirror, I almost don’t recognize myself. Maybe this is what love does to you. Makes you stronger and more determined than you ever thought possible.
Or maybe just completely, utterly reckless.
