Page 56 of To Hell

“Thank you. And to answer your question, no,” I shake my head.

“No, what?” He zips up, and the effect has my sex pinching. I’m sure he notices because he snaps his fingers and gestures with them for me to keep my eyes up.

“I do not like you,” I clear my throat, “You are hands down the most frightening man I have ever met,” I take the pants from his grip.

He is frightening. Even his playful side feels like the venomous tongue of a viper.

“Good,” his head dips and my breathing dives, “I do not want you to like me,” he breathes, his whiskey breath twisting my insides in delicious ways. He lifts his hand to my face as if to stroke, and I close my eyes, sucking in the air infused by his strong scent.

His hand never comes, and when I open my eyes to check, I’m alone in the room.

A lot is happening to me right now, but I should focus on the wedding. I have the role of a fake girlfriend to play—a fake girlfriend who is meant to be in love with her boyfriend.

But the more I think, the more I wonder if there is anything there to fake.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

VIRGILIO

Being liked by her is an ocean apart from what I truly want.

The part of her being scared of me is something we will work around. Baby steps. At least now she makes jokes around me and smiles easily. Every once in a while, she pokes her head out of her shell before retreating into it.

I slip my signet ring onto my finger, a customized ring with her initials on it that she or any other person will never know. I’ve worn it on my ring finger for the longest time since I could afford the flint it was carved from.

I adjust my shoulders, swollen with pride at how the outfit fits, then step out of my bedroom with sauntering gaits.

The suit is more like a collared shirt, simple, and has tiny black stones on one side. Underneath it is a holster, of course. I’m not expecting to use it, but you never know when it might come in handy.

I’m over the moon today. I’m wearing an outfit made by Zoe and taking her with me as my date for my mother’s wedding.

I stalk down the hallway and then stop by the edge of the stairs with my heart in my mouth as I wait for her.

I had forgotten what it was like to smile until last night in the limo. She resuscitated that dead part of me, and it was shocking even to me that it could be alive. That there is hope for me.

She is the sledger strong enough to crack through my defense and let the sunlight in.

I was only trying to distract her from her tears. It had felt good being that boy again for her.

I hear the door of her bedroom open, and I hold my breath, my heart hammering in my mouth.

She steps out of the shadow of the hallway and then into the light around the staircase.

My fucking world.

The creator has never designed a finer work of art.

She is it.

She graciously climbs down the stairs in at least six inches of black strappy heels, the sharp red of her toenails pronounced by the dull color of her shoes.

I trace the lines of the slit of her emerald dress, stopping just at the top of her thigh. It’s a lace dress with a cowl sleeve and a wisp around her upper body that pushes up her breasts and punctuates her waistline. She has a simple set of pearl studded earrings and a pearl choker. Her hair has been pulled up on her head, and her makeup is subtle but effective enough.

She stops in front of me, and I give her my arm.

“Ready?”

She nods, “Hopefully.”

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