My Dark Romeo: Chapter 23

“We can still make a run for it. I retrieved Madison’s ring. The one Romeo threw into the crowd.” Frankie paced the makeshift bridal room in von Bismarck’s mansion, face wrinkled in concentration, pinching said ring between her fingers. Her saffron cassette silk dress whooshed along the marble floors. “That must be worth something, right?”

My wedding day had arrived.

I hadn’t seen the groom for close to three weeks. During those weeks, Momma and Frankie had visited me twice, yet I’d never felt more alone in my life.

“Let it go.” I glared at the mirror while two makeup artists and a hairstylist fussed over me. “It’s a done deal.”

My sister would never know how tempted I was to take her advice and run. I’d almost done so the first week after the trick I’d pulled on Romeo.

But my friends and extended family began sending RSVPs, reminding me how far down the toilet Romeo had flushed my reputation.

“Is it true that you’re pregnant?” Savannah had cried to me on the phone one evening. “People say that your daddy forced him to marry you after he found a pregnancy test in the trash.”

Emilie managed to be a little more refined. “Your parents sent me an invitation. Thank you for that. Would you mind very much if I skipped the wedding? I’m not saying that I will. I just need to make sure with my parents that it won’t ruin my…er…reputation. Please, don’t be mad at me, Dal. At least you’re getting married. And to Romeo Costa, no less. I still haven’t received one offer, and I don’t want to get a bad rep by being associated with the wrong people.”

In the end, the universe provided. Emilie showed up, escorted by her eagle-eyed parents. Sav was here, too, and even brought a date.

In fact, I heard that outside, in Oliver von Bismarck’s nineteenth-century-era garden, over eight hundred guests mingled, the Licht family among them.

My parents had invited them, offering the courtesy of saving face and proving there was no bad blood. No scandal between the two families.

Madison was here.

The thought made me want to crawl under the vanity and hide.

I felt so sorry and guilty for what I’d done. What had caused this chain reaction that spiraled everyone’s lives out of control.

“Dal! Oh, Dal, the cake!” Momma burst into the bridal suite, also known as Oliver’s twelfth guest room, fanning herself. She sagged against the door, her fingers trembling over her collarbone. “It’s an eight-tier cake. All white. The shape of your dress, with edible lifelike roses and custom calligraphy.”

Momma was thrilled.

Frankie and I had shielded her from the bitter truth about my marriage. I’d spent the past week waxing on about Romeo.

What else could I do?

Frankie said she’d stopped eating and talking to my father altogether in a bid to bring me back home.

No matter how much I loathed Daddy, I still couldn’t bear seeing Momma devastated.

“Oh, my.” I forced a grin. “Shame I’m probably going to inhale it before anyone takes a picture.”

“It’s showtime, ladies.” The wedding planner kicked the door open, sweating buckets under her designer garment. She wore an earpiece with a microphone hovered in front of her lips. “The groom is already waiting—and looking delicious doing so, I should add. All the guests are seated. It’s a go.”

Frankie shot me a desperate glance.

It’s now or never, it said.

And though I couldn’t imagine myself finding happiness with my cruel, beautiful fiancé, I also couldn’t return to Chapel Falls a damaged woman and risk Frankie’s future.

Besides, what kind of future awaited me?

No one else would have me. At least with Romeo Costa, I had financial safety, a roof above my head, and a future with children to look forward to.

“Come, my love.” Momma shooed away the hair and makeup stylists, pulling me up. Her smile died as soon as our fingers touched. “Your hands are ice cold.”

I swallowed. “It’s just the nerves.”

“Are you sure?” She peered into my face. “You would tell me if you were unhappy, right, Pickle?”

I almost collapsed at the sound of my childhood nickname. There was nothing I wanted more than to return home. Undo my mistake from a month ago.

“Everything is perfect, Momma. I’m the luckiest girl alive.”