THE CARETAKER BRIDE

e of his, lingered in my mind like a scarred memory. The nerve of him-ordering me to change my wardrobe, like I had no say in the matter, like what i could

en my mother's voice rang through the

room her heels clicking fast on the floor. "Get in the closet, we ne

-in closet with an urgency that left no room for argument. I didn't resist. My body moved like it was on

e asked "What's with you?" as she st

oice barely a wh

to the dresses laid out on the bench-all her choices, not mine. I had a feeling s

single decent dress," she said,

t wasn't like I had ever been one to attend these high-society events. I hated the

'd ever worn. They were Audrey Hepburn-inspired, yes, but retro? That wasn't me, in the slightest. She held up a sky-blue

voice. Did she ever actually look at my war

s old-fashioned, but he understood my sense of independence. It was my mother w

s. "This matches your eyes. Let's just hope N

s comments about my clothes and my bangs-echoing in my head lik

on some makeup, Isabella. You need to look old

e, but she was gone before I could say anything,

ision, I wasn't the kind of girl who wore makeup often, but today, I piled it on. I needed

the dress, put on the makeup, but I knew deep down that Nicolas wasn't like t

reflection. The woman staring back at me looked different, adsent-but more pol

elt really tight, as though the weight of it all was pressing against my lungs, choking the air out of my lungs. As I walked int

expression neutral, blank even; his eyes scanning me with th

r said, his voice strangely cautious, almost as

pleasure to meet you, Isabella," he said, his voice like smooth stone as he took my hand and

instinctively, I straightened my back, my posture rigid. "The pleasure is all mine,

ce all these drama began, I saw something close to regret in his eyes. It was

de him. "This is Faro, my right-hand man and Consigliere," he said smoothly,

te and chew on my insides. Moving a little closer to my father, I could almost feel the sick satisfaction that bloomed inside me. It was small, but

e for Isabella," he continued, his voice still casual. "Please have y

y broke. "Maybe this was a mistake," he muttered, his voi

firm and somewhat commanding. "We settled things with Luca. Everything is done. Given that we decided against a sepa

n who ruled this city, shuddered under Nicolas's presence. He wasn't the powe

have no intention of canceling our arrangement. I was just making

of the tension looming in the air. "Dinner is ready!" she announce

form of hope vanishing from my eyes. He couldn't meet my gaze. The message

ise in my throat as I tried not to cry. If my fathe

colors. I knew Nicolas didn't care about any of it. He didn't have to pretend. He was the on

y chair for me. "Thank you," I muttered, sitt

ng every detail-my bangs, my earrings-and I knew, deep down, he was calculatin

my smile, my charm, to get what I wanted in this world,

es-Max Mara, Chanel, Ted Baker. My mother was giddy as she unpacked them, but I couldn

t the fact that he bought these clothes without consulting me or knowing my choices? That stung, and made me hate