Armani and I sat down in the midst of both of our families. He was beside his father whilst I was beside my mother, and the rest of our families stretched on from there at the long table.
Looking around the room, I didn't know many of the people, but I figured they were more Dad's friends than Olivia's, so I didn't have to worry about anyone wondering why the bride had been switched. Most would convince themselves that they'd simply had the wrong sister in mind - this was what my mother told me when she caught me staring at the guests.
Dad made a short toast to bringing our families together, which he was clearly overjoyed about since it meant he didn't have to pay lots of money to the Cartellis. I pondered over how I could replace that money, as it must have been a large sum for my father to sell one of his daughters just to avoid it. But then, Dad had always been protective of his cash.
After a meal that allowed me to rest my feet for a while, I was forced to get up and greet the guests I didn't even know. Armani split off from me - presumably to meet his own guests - so Mom kept me company, providing me with names and subtle conversation starters so I didn't embarrass myself. I had never treasured her more than those few minutes per person.
Just as I was speaking to one of Dad's oldest friends, I felt somebody come up behind me, their height literally casting a shadow over my body. A hand gently touched my waist on one side, and the businessman in front of me smiled.
"Armani! Big day."
"Yes," Armani agreed, quiet. "I would love to chat but I need to steal my wife from you."
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Of course. Have a nice night, you two." He snickered to himself as he pulled Mom away from us.
Once it was safe, Armani muttered, "You looked uncomfortable."
"I was... thank you."
He nodded. "We need to cut the cake in a minute, but we don't have to feed each other."
I glanced between his features curiously. "Do you... want to?"
"No," he replied quickly, then paused. "Perhaps it might be a good idea, though. A lot of these people are... suspicious."
My eyes flickered to the hand on my waist.
"I'm okay with it... you know, if you are. I don't want to assume anything," I rushed out. My face started to heat up again.
"It couldn't hurt. Come with me, then." Armani led me in the direction of the large wedding cake that looked just like something Olivia would pick out. I was reminded by little things constantly that this wasn't my wedding, even if I would have picked mostly similar choices. The music taste was all my sister, and I still couldn't get over her shoe choice.
The guests gathered around as a chef brought us the slicer. I felt more awkward than I had for the entire evening knowing what was about to happen and deeply regretted asking Armani if he wanted to feed me and be fed. But it was too late to tell him now, when we were already placing the slice on a paper plate.
I noticed he cast a glance at me, probably thinking the same thing, before he broke some of the cake off with a fork. I braced myself.
Armani had an accurate hand; he didn't so much as get icing on my lips, it seemed like. I was grateful that he hadn't ruined my makeup. However, this only made me more embarrassed when I got some on his nose. A few people laughed as he swiped it off with his thumb. He seemed to be amused, too, but I didn't know him well enough to know if he was pretending or not.
The chef started cutting the rest of the cake to hand out to guests, and we stepped out of the way to let them get to it. I held the paper plate in my hand still, feeling the weight of it in my hands.
"You can eat that if you want," Armani muttered, leading me back toward the main table.
I smiled at him. "I wasn't going to."
"It's fine, you can work on your aim."
I was about to exclaim at him in surprise, but his brother, Fredrico, showed up out of nowhere and whispered into his ear. He nodded slightly, twisting away. "Excuse me."
Left alone, I eagerly took a seat at the table to finish my cake slice. It was abandoned by now as everyone else was queuing for the very thing I was eating. I spent some time reflecting to myself, wondering how different this could have gone if Olivia was still in her white dress instead of me.
Despite Armani seemingly treating me well, I couldn't help but be mad at my sister. She'd completely thrown me under the bus - and knew it in advance as she had knowingly brought the wedding dress her and mom made for me. She'd expected Dad to switch to me instead and by bringing a dress, she'd actually encouraged it.
But one side of my brain argued that she would never put me in a position where I could be in danger in any way, and since she'd only spoken good of Armani, I had to remember that she must have done the calculations. I shouldn't have anything to worry about and I shouldn't be mad... but I still was.
When the first of the guests hit the dancefloor, I was reminded that whether Armani and I would have the first dance was still uncertain, but the simplest movement of my foot by now caused an agonising pain through not only my heels and toes, but my ankles, too. There was no way I was going to be able to dance in these conditions - plus, I didn't know if I even wanted to.
Armani was distracted by a different guest now, so I abandoned my paper plate at the table and made my way over to him, hiding the pain in my face. He looked so tall, dark and handsome from afar, yet a lot softer once I was just a couple of steps away.
"Ah! The bride," said the guest, who I'd already spoken to but forgotten the name of. "Good timing, I was just leaving."
I smiled shyly at him as he gave Armani an amused look and left us alone. To play the part of the loving couple, Armani casually wrapped his arm around my waist, which put me much too close to his body considering we had met just over an hour ago.
"Um..." I felt so awkward. "I-I know you don't really know me but my... my feet hurt, so can we... not do the dance?"
He glanced between my eyes for a moment, thinking, then nodded. But then he started to lead me through the room.
"W-where are we going?" I stuttered out.
"Come with me," he murmured simply.
Nobody seemed to cast a second glance at the newlyweds leaving their own reception. I hoped only that no one thought we were going to do something naughty, as I didn't think the blood cells in my face could handle overworking themselves again.
To my surprise, the moment the door to the reception room closed, Armani swept down and took me off my feet into his arms. I tried to suppress the squeal that left my lips, but I was sure someone somewhere must have heard it.
"What are you doing?!" I exclaimed.
He started to carry me toward the stairs. "Your feet hurt."
"Y-yes, so I wanted to avoid the dance." I wiggled in his arms. "I don't need to be carried."
"It's temporary," he replied quietly.
I fell silent as he took me back to the bride's suite. I expected us to walk into the scene I'd left earlier, but instead of Olivia's bag, I found mine instead. Someone had switched our rooms.
Armani placed me down on the bed and motioned toward the closet. "Where are your shoes? Something you can actually walk in."
"Um... probably in my bag down there."
He knelt down to fish through my trunk, before standing up with a pair of all-white sneakers. He moved instead in front of me, kneeling, and began to lift up my dress. I automatically slapped his hand, and he raised a brow at me.
"Sorry," I whispered.
"It was a reasonable reaction, Rose, I was just surprised."
"Y-you looked... judgy. And offended..."
He shook his head. "If you didn't stop me from lifting your skirt, I would be worried."
Armani took off my murderous heels, instantly freeing my feet, and slipped on a pair of white socks before my most comfortable sneakers. I placed my foot on his knee, letting him tie both laces, then brushed my skirt back down. When I stood, I was instantly three inches shorter than I had been before. Armani looked to be caught off guard by my real height - he'd towered over me even with the heels on.
"Is that better?" he asked as he threw the heels into the corner of the room. I'd have preferred them to find a home in the fireplace.
"Yes, thank you. You can't even tell!" I stuck my leg out but the skirt was so long that it just draped over my shoe.
"Let's go back to the party, shall we, Rose?"
I nodded, so he took my hand. The first thing we both noticed was that it was suddenly much harder to do something even so simple...
If anyone noticed the bride had shrunk three inches, they didn't mention it.I was more excited for the party now that I didn't have to worry about falling over or hurting myself, and Bella was quick to start dancing with me as a result. I let her take the lead, spinning me around and pretending to be my partner, whilst smiling the whole time. It felt good, given the circumstances, to be able to have so much fun.But the part of the night I had been quite nervous for since finding out about it was coming up: we had to leave for our honeymoon.The word honeymoon still sent a shiver down my spine that I couldn't seem to avoid. I didn't like the connotations it brought with it, specifically that it suggested we would be sealing our marriage with physical intimacy. No matter how sweet Armani seemed to be, I would not be doing that when I hardly knew him.Bella spun me around one last time, tugging me into her chest and wrapping her arms around my wai
"Do I need to drug you?" "W-what?" I flung upright from my seat, my eyes locking on his. I could have sworn there was a glint of amusement in them but it could have been insanity. "Do I need to drug you?" he repeated in the same serious tone. "I can't stand how tense you are. It's making me uncomfortable." My posture collapsed. "I-I'm sorry, I've just... never really been on a private jet before. Hardly even a normal plane." "Does your father not own a private jet?" I shook my head. "I thought a man such as himself would jump at the opportunity to own one, but I could be wrong." "Could be?" Armani brought his drink to his lips. "Even the people closest to you could be hiding something, Rose." When he put down his glass, a thought flickered across his eyes. "What will ease your nerves, then? A drink?" He pushed the glass toward me, but I quickly pushed it back. "No, thank you... I don't..."'I don't want
"Miss?" "Excuse me?" "Um... Miss... I'm going to touch you." Her voice had just been a muffle at first, something I could barely hear through my dreams, but when I felt something unknown touch my shoulder, I heard back everything she'd said. My body forced me upright, startling the attendant leaning over me. "Oh! Mrs Cartelli, I am so sorry for scaring you!" I almost told her she had called me by the wrong name, but the uncomfortable press of my bridal hairstyle reminded me that I was no longer Miss Rizzo. The wedding had really happened, it wasn't a dream and it wasn't going away. I was legally married. Clearing my throat, I slid off of the bed in the cabin. "Um, you didn't scare me," I lied. "W-why are you in here?" "We need you to sit down with a seatbelt, Mrs Cartelli. The plane is going to be landing in approximately six minutes." "Okay, um, thank you. I'll be right out." The attendant left, so I took a mom
Seeing the very town we had passed by so quickly earlier without any rush was exciting. After parking just down the road, we walked as if we were any other couple along the streets, admiring the little stores, cafes, eateries and restaurants that littered the long stretch of concrete. Just behind the stores on one side, you could see the ocean, which many little cafes took advantage of with a decking facing the beautiful view. People looked at us and smiled. The few that scowled or showed any sign of contempt were often put in their place by a simple glare from the man hovering behind me. I couldn't help but watch him each time we passed a window. I needed to know if I was with someone mean, but he was as kind to most of the locals as I was. Still, I never saw him smile. Once the sun had set - which we enjoyed from the railing of the parking lot where Armani's fast white convertible sat - we headed back to the private beach house. It had been mostly quiet bet
Armani himself said the only reason he’d agreed to the honeymoon with Olivia was because she had business here, and he wanted to return home. But even hearing that, I didn’t expect to receive his complete focus. For the first three days, it felt like I couldn’t get a moment from him, as he was always right there asking if I needed anything or if I was bored. And whilst I appreciated the attention I’d never gotten off of anyone else, it was daunting to be the one making all the decisions. I supposed that was the point. Armani expressed openly this was all his way of making up for the unexpected wedding. Still, sometimes it was nice to take a step back - like how he decided we would go for breakfast during sunrise at a cafe nearby. Since, it was all, “What would you like to do, Rose?”I finally managed to get a moment alone when Armani stepped away for a phone call and came back with the news he had to attend a brief meeting here in Italy. “I won’t be long,” he told me, as he typed aw
From what I understood, we only had a few days left of our honeymoon. Armani tried to avoid answering whenever I asked about when we would be going back, though I didn't know why, so at some point, I stopped asking. He'd been slightly busier than usual today and had been missing since dinner, which was two hours ago. Sitting in the living room watching a nature documentary on TV, I was acutely aware of Bill standing outside likely cold, watching over the house and therefore me. I'd tried to invite him in but he said it was his duty to keep an eye on the house's surroundings, so I eventually just let it go and worried about him in silence. When I heard the front door open, I turned to see Armani dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, a shockingly casual attire that I'd only seen one other time during this trip. He walked over to me on the couch and sat down without a word, stretching his legs out onto an ottoman that I couldn't physically reach if I tried. I opened my mouth t
~ Rosanna's POV"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE?!"Dad was yelling again. He'd never been the tamest father in the world - he'd always liked to open his mouth to argue with those around us - but I had still never seen him like this, so worked up and red in the face. I was worried he would make himself faint from stress, though I was certain there was nothing to stress about. Olivia would come back - what reason did she have not to?... except having to marry a man she'd only known for two months and was only interested in wearing her on his arm like a trophy. But at least she seemed to have a positive view of Mr Cartelli, whose name she would soon take on. It could have been a lot worse."Dante, please," said Mom, "she just stepped out for a minute. There is still plenty of time before the wedding begins."Dad glared at her - another first. "We have barely twenty minutes.""And she is mostly ready. All she needs is to put
Olivia was a wonderful seamstress and designer; this was something the whole family had known for a long time. But I never expected her to be able to produce something so beautiful for someone who didn't even want a wedding.My floor-length, lace white dress was covered in embroidered flowers and leaves that I knew must have taken hours to delicately perfect; the sheer sleeves had a branch of leaves falling down to the slim wrist. I felt like a princess, but one who was being tortured when I was handed the shoes I was supposed to wear.Whilst Olivia and I were completely different sizes in clothing - I was the thickness of a stick and five-foot-one, compared to her healthy weight and height of five-foot-five - we could still wear the same shoes. And Olivia happened to wear a lot more heels than I did, so the pair of peep-toe white heels with matching flowers embroidery and a thin ankle strap, would not have been a problem for her. I, on the other hand, was barely able