The Wedding Preparations

Chapter Eleven

I woke to the sound of someone knocking.

For one terrifying second, I forgot where I was.

Then I remembered the mansion.

Damien.

The attack.

The contract.

The wedding.

I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head.

Another knock sounded.

"Lena?"

A woman's voice.

I sat up.

"Come in."

The door opened.

Isabella De Luca stood there with two women behind her.

I stared at them.

"What?"

"It's time."

"For what?"

"The wedding."

I looked at the clock.

It was eight in the morning.

"The wedding is in four days."

"Exactly."

I frowned.

"Why are you here?"

Isabella walked inside.

"Because Damien has apparently decided that you require supervision."

"That sounds like him."

She smiled faintly.

"You'll learn."

"I don't think I want to."

"Nobody does."

She sat on the chair near the window.

The two women began opening garment bags.

I stared.

"What are those?"

"Dresses."

"More dresses?"

"Yes."

"I already have clothes."

"These are for the wedding events."

I sighed.

"How many events are there?"

Isabella's expression remained completely serious.

"Several."

"Of course."

She smiled.

"You don't like ceremonies?"

"I don't like being the center of attention."

"You're marrying Damien."

"I noticed."

Isabella laughed.

It was the first genuine laugh I'd heard in the house.

"You might survive after all."

One of the women held up a long white dress.

I shook my head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Too much."

Another appeared.

"No."

"Too plain."

"No."

Isabella watched me.

"You have opinions."

"I've been told."

Eventually, they showed me a simple ivory dress.

It was elegant without being extravagant.

I stared at it.

"I like that one."

Isabella nodded.

"Good."

I touched the fabric.

"It's beautiful."

"You'll wear it."

I smiled faintly.

For a moment, the wedding didn't feel real.

Then I remembered who I was marrying.

My smile disappeared.

Isabella noticed.

"You don't have to be afraid of him."

I looked at her.

"I'm not afraid of the wedding."

"Then what?"

"Everything after it."

She was silent.

Then she said quietly:

"Damien has never married."

"I know."

"He doesn't bring women into this house."

"I've noticed."

"He doesn't trust easily."

"I've noticed that too."

She looked at me carefully.

"But he trusts you."

I frowned.

"He barely knows me."

"Perhaps."

She stood.

"But he chose you."

I didn't know what to say.

Before I could answer, the door opened.

Damien walked in.

He stopped when he saw the dresses.

"How is it going?"

Isabella glanced at him.

"She hates everything."

"I don't."

"You hated seven dresses."

"They were ugly."

Damien looked at me.

"Do you like any?"

I pointed at the ivory one.

"That."

He looked at it.

Then at me.

"Good."

I narrowed my eyes.

"That's all?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Something."

He considered it.

"It suits you."

My cheeks warmed.

I looked away.

Isabella smiled.

Damien noticed.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing."

She left.

The two women followed.

Suddenly, I was alone with him.

Damien looked at me.

"How did you sleep?"

"Badly."

"Nightmares?"

"Some."

He nodded.

"I can arrange for someone to stay outside your room."

"I don't need a guard."

"You do."

"I don't want one inside."

"Outside."

I sighed.

"Fine."

He walked toward the door.

"Damien."

He stopped.

"What?"

"Why do you care if I sleep?"

He turned.

"I don't."

I raised an eyebrow.

"You literally asked."

"Because I need you functional."

I smiled.

"Right."

He left.

I stared at the door.

"Of course."

By afternoon, the mansion had become chaos.

People came and went constantly.

Flowers arrived.

Food.

Decorations.

Security.

The wedding planner had three assistants.

At one point, I counted six people discussing table arrangements in the hallway.

I escaped to the library.

It was the only quiet place.

I curled up in one of the chairs with a book.

Ten minutes later, the door opened.

Damien.

"You're hiding."

"Yes."

"From the wedding?"

"From everyone."

He walked toward the shelves.

"Do you read?"

"Sometimes."

He glanced at the book in my hand.

"Crime novels?"

I looked at the cover.

"Apparently."

His mouth twitched.

"Funny."

"You think?"

"Very."

He took the book from me.

I frowned.

"What are you doing?"

He looked at the back cover.

"This author gets everything wrong."

"You've read it?"

"No."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because criminals aren't stupid."

I stared at him.

"You're saying criminals are intelligent?"

"Some."

"You're one of them."

"Yes."

The honesty again.

I took the book back.

"Does it ever bother you?"

"What?"

"Being what you are."

He looked at me.

"Sometimes."

That answer surprised me.

"When?"

"When innocent people get caught in things they didn't choose."

I stared at him.

"Like me?"

"Like you."

Something tightened in my chest.

"Then why marry me?"

"Because I can't undo what happened."

He stepped closer.

"But I can make sure you survive it."

I looked down.

"That's not exactly romantic."

"I wasn't trying to be."

"I know."

Silence.

Then I asked:

"Have you ever loved anyone?"

His expression changed.

"Yes."

"Your parents?"

"No."

"A woman?"

He looked away.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"She died."

The answer was quiet.

"Because of you?"

"No."

"Because of your enemies?"

"Because I trusted someone."

The same answer.

I didn't ask further.

His grief was visible only in the silence that followed.

I understood that kind of silence.

My father's coma had taught me how loud silence could become.

I reached toward him without thinking.

My fingers touched his hand.

He froze.

I almost pulled away.

Then his fingers closed around mine.

Neither of us spoke.

It lasted only a few seconds.

But something changed.

His eyes lowered to our hands.

Then he looked at me.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Why?"

"Because you're afraid of me."

"I am."

"Then don't touch me."

I swallowed.

"I wanted to."

His gaze darkened.

"That's different."

"How?"

"It means you're starting to forget what I am."

I slowly pulled my hand away.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Good."

He turned toward the window.

I looked at his back.

"You know what I think?"

He didn't turn.

"What?"

"I think you're afraid."

Silence.

"Of what?"

"Of caring."

His shoulders stiffened.

I continued.

"Because every time something gets close to you, you push it away."

He turned.

"You don't know me."

"No."

I smiled slightly.

"But I'm learning."

His eyes remained on mine.

Then someone knocked.

Damien stepped away.

"Come in."

Victor entered.

"Boss."

Damien's expression immediately changed.

"What?"

"We found the vehicle."

My stomach tightened.

"The attackers?"

Victor nodded.

"Abandoned outside the city."

"Any bodies?"

"No."

Damien's jaw tightened.

"Anything inside?"

Victor hesitated.

"A photograph."

"Of what?"

He looked at me.

"Her."

I froze.

Victor continued.

"Taken outside the hospital."

Damien's eyes became cold.

"How recent?"

"Yesterday."

My heart began racing.

"They've been watching me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

Victor didn't answer.

Damien did.

"Because they're waiting."

"For what?"

His eyes met mine.

"The wedding."

My blood ran cold.

"What?"

"They know we're getting married."

I stared at him.

"How?"

"Someone told them."

Victor added quietly:

"Which means someone inside the organization knows."

Damien's face became unreadable.

"Find the leak."

Victor nodded.

"And Lena?"

Damien looked at me.

"Nobody gets near her."

His voice was quiet.

Absolute.

"Not even family."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Damien didn't answer.

Victor left.

I looked at him.

"Do you think someone in your family is involved?"

"I think anyone is capable of betrayal."

"Even Isabella?"

His eyes narrowed.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because she knows about the wedding."

"She knows everything."

"Could she hurt me?"

"No."

The answer was immediate.

Certain.

"You trust her."

"Yes."

I smiled faintly.

"So you do trust someone."

"One person."

"Is it Victor?"

"No."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Then who?"

He looked at me.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he said:

"You."

My heart stopped.

Before I could respond, he walked away.

Leaving me alone in the library with one terrifying realization.

The wedding wasn't simply going to make me Damien De Luca's wife.

It was going to make me a target.

And someone close to him was already watching me.