Chapter 55

Aurora POV

I feel a buzz in my pocket and when I pull my phone out and swipe to the notification, I find a photo on my screen.

Me, standing on the small pedestal in the bridal shop, wearing my wedding dress.

Gianna must’ve snapped it when I wasn’t paying attention, probably right before I’d internally collapsed under the weight of my own self-doubt and guilt. My hands are resting lightly at my sides, the lace and soft ivory fabric flowing around me in a pretty way that I can’t stop staring at.

The twins are chatting animatedly with Gianna while the rush of traffic moves past us. Bags are cluttered at our feet and behind us in the trunk, remnants of a shopping spree well spent. But all I can hear is the quiet rush of my own thoughts as we drive.

I save the picture to my phone.

Maybe it’s stupid, but I want it as some kind of keepsake. I need something to hold onto that reminds me that for one fleeting moment, I felt beautiful. Like a real bride. As stupid as it sounds, this is probably the only time I’ll ever get to feel that way again.

By the time we get back to the safehouse, I can feel an ache settling in behind my eyes. It’s more than physical exhaustion, it’s the mental kind. I smile weakly at Gianna when she asks if I want something to eat, merely shaking my head in response.

“Just going to head to my room for a while. I want to lay down.”

She doesn’t press. Just gives me a soft nod and disappears down the hallway, her arms full of shopping bags.

Once I’m alone, I sink onto the edge of my bed and kick off my shoes, the silence pressing in around me like a second skin. My room feels smaller tonight. Or maybe it’s just me filled with too many thoughts I can’t seem to sort through or decisions that I don’t know how to make.

I’ve set too many things in motion. Too many paths that lead in opposite directions. Now I can’t tell which one is right, or if any of them are.

If I take Camilla’s offer and run, I can disappear and start over. No more Dominic. No more mafia life. No more being under the thumb of my family. But in the process, I may lose Stefano forever. Gianna might too.

Is that something I can live with? The guilt of tearing my best friend away from her father and the only parental figure she’s ever had? Is that something I’m comfortable never having agains either?

If I stay and marry Dominic, I’ll inherit a step-sister who would love nothing more than to slit my throat in my sleep. I’ll get Dominic, sure but at what cost? Gianna would stay, but would she be next on the chopping block to be married off?

There are too many variables. Too many parts in play. I can’t see far enough ahead to know which move is the fatal one and which one will end in me actually being happy for the first time in my life.

I flop back onto the bed with a groan, dragging a pillow over my face.

“I wish you were here, Mom,” I whisper into the cotton.

The ache in my chest squeezes at the thought. It’s been years since I’ve thought about her, but tonight it hurts like she just left yesterday. I wish I could call her and ask for her advice. Ask her what the hell I’m supposed to do when every option feels like it ends in someone dying.

Tossing the pillow, I grab my phone again and bring up the picture Gianna sent me earlier and stare at the picture of myself in the dress.

Would my mother have been excited to see me in it? Would she have cried and gushed and taken a hundred pictures? Or would she have stood there watching me in the mirror horrified at the idea of me marrying a man like Dominic?

Would she have helped me escape in the middle of the night like she tried to?

I close my eyes, still holding the phone against my chest.

I try to picture her—her face, her voice, the way she used to run her fingers through my hair and hum softly while she did it. I wonder if she’d recognize me now or if I’ve already become someone she wouldn’t want to know. A coward just like my father always accuses me of being.

I sigh, swiping my thumb over the screen. Just a stupid, careless move too close to the options menu. When it pops up, I try to close out of it, accidentally tapping on the message thread with Dominic instead.

And before I can stop it, the picture sends.

Oh, shit.

No no no no no—

I slap my palm against my forehead like I can somehow take it back with sheer force of will.

Goddamn it.

I know it’s just a picture. But there’s a silly little part of me that wanted to keep what I bought a secret. I’m not superstitious in the slightest, nor do I care about wedding traditions between a bride and groom.

For some reason, this is the one thing I wanted to keep as a surprise for our wedding day.

I groan again, sitting up in bed just as my phone starts to ring.

Dominic.

I hesitate for a full beat before answering. “Hello?”

“Is that the dress you picked out?” His voice has the faintest note of surprise tucked around the edges.

I swallow. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to send it to you. My finger slipped.”

His tone grows unexpectedly warm. “You look beautiful.”

I blink. There’s no way I heard that right. “What?”

“I said you look beautiful, Aurora.”

A flush creeps up my neck, and I’m glad he can’t see it.

I don’t know what I expected. A comment about how much money I spent or some kind of quip about him taking it off of me the moment we’re alone after the reception ends.

But not a genuine compliment. And certainly not one that sounds… so affectionate.

“Thank you,” I murmur, clutching the phone tighter in my hand. “I, um… I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”

“I like it more than I thought I would,” he says. There’s something strange in his voice that sounds off. It’s almost… gentle? “I didn’t picture you in something like that. But it fits you. Much more than the one you were wearing when you married my father.”

I sit there, stunned for a second, then give him a shy laugh. “Thank you. It was fun to pick out. I’m actually kind of looking forward to the wedding day now.”

There’s a pause on the other end. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” I say, biting my lip. But I can feel the tension in me building again, that dangerous slope I’m about to slide down. I can’t tell him the real reason: that I might be falling for him and I don’t know what to do about it.

So instead, I pivot before things get to real. “Mostly because I’m looking forward to watching you slowly peel that dress off of me.”

He exhales slowly. “Is that right?”

“Mhm.”

“Aurora.” The way he says my name—it’s a warning and a promise all wrapped in one. Halfway across the world from me and he’s still able to affect me just like he does standing in front of me, stripping me bare with his hands.

Only this time, it’s with his words.

“I should hang up,” I murmur.

“You won’t.”

I don’t because suddenly, I want to hear what he’ll say next.

I’m not disappointed.

His voice lowers further, curling through the speaker like smoke. “Tell me what you would wear under it.”

I shift on the bed, the hem of my shirt riding up slightly when I part my legs. “Lace. Something that hugs me in all the right places.”

“What would I find once I pulled you out of that dress and laid you down—a full set or just panties?”

My breath stutters, my hand wandering down my stomach. “Dominic.”

He hums like he’s thinking about it. “Whatever it is, I’ll make you wear it while I taste you.”

A soft gasp escapes me.

“My bride,” he murmurs. “With her legs spread wide for me. Maybe I’ll even keep the dress on you when I first fuck you. Make sure we get some wear out of it”

“Dominic—” I whisper again, my hand diving under the waistband of my pants. My panties are already soaked.

“Where is your hand right now, Aurora?”

I freeze, caught.

“Tell me.”

“You know where,” I say.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through my body. “I see. Why don’t you put those fingers or yours to good use and slide them into that pretty little pussy.”

That’s all it takes for me to come undone.

My fingers slide inside me as he talks, guiding me with that slow, confident voice of his as his words paint pictures so vivid I forget how to be shy. We fall into it together, into a rhythm that has me rocking my hips against my hand, pretending that it’s him instead.

When my orgasm crashes into me, I moan into the phone, catching the slight hitch in his voice that follows.

“Aurora,” he murmurs.

I’m in too deep.