Page 32 of Claimed By Desire

There’s a knock at the door. I ignore it, but Lev pokes his head into my room anyway. He frowns at me down on the floor and steps closer, looking supremely uncomfortable as he takes in the state of me.

“Do you, uh, need any help?” he asks.

“Actually, that’d be great. Could you do my hair while I finish my makeup?”

Panic swells in his eyes. “I mean, I don’t, I could maybe—“ I laugh, covering my mouth, and he lets out a long, relieved sigh. “That was almost mean.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him as the laughter dies down and I go back to floating. “What time do I need to be ready?”

“Cars leave in an hour and a half. Is that enough time?”

“Let’s hope so.” I turn back to the mirror and don’t move. I should be doing something, but the thought of lifting my arms right now feels almost too much to bear.

Lev doesn’t leave. He watches me, concern apparently in his eyes, and can I really blame him? I feel totally catatonic, and it’s a small miracle I managed to get this dress on.

“Want me to hunt someone down?” he asks awkwardly. “Maria maybe? Or Irina? I know they’re kind of bitchy?—“

“I’d rather throw myself out a window than deal with them right now.” Which really isn’t me being dramatic. It’s just the honest truth.

“I don’t even blame you.” He crouches down next to me and puts a hand on my arm. “I know this is hard. I’m sorry you’re going through this right now. But I really think that in a while, maybe a few weeks or months or years or something, you’ll be happy again one day. Your husband isn’t such a bad guy.”

I tilt my head and study my brother. “You say that like it means something.Not such a bad guy.Like it’s a point in his favor that he’sprobablynot going to hit me or something.”

Lev’s expression darkens. “I’d kill him if he did that. You fucking know I would.”

“But you see my point, right? Adriano’s not such a bad guy, but I want to marry someone better than that.”

Alex’s face bursts into my mind. Someone better. Someone good. But then it fades away, because that isn’t happening.

“I know, I’m just trying to say something—“ He stops, looking at a total loss, and I suddenly feel bad for him. Lev’s doing his best just like everyone else and it isn’t his fault that I’m in this situation.

“You really want to do something for me?”

“Seriously, anything, except for your hair.”

“Buy me some time. Let me play piano for ten minutes. It’ll help calm me down, and then I’ll be able to get through today.”

He glances at the hall. “I don’t know. Dad’s got his people all over the place?—“

I grab Lev’s arm, my fingers digging in. “Please.”

He looks back at me, frowning, and slowly nods. “Yeah, alright. Stay here. I’ll clear a path.”

My brother leaves and I’m alone again. I turn back to the mirror and watch myself, wondering if playing really will center me again. I doubt it, but right now I’m desperate and willing to try anything to help me get through this afternoon.

This shouldn’t be happening. I went to Alex thinking he could find a way out for me. I went there thinking he’dwantto find a way out. But the second I started pacing around in front of his building, I knew exactly what he was going to say and how stupid I was for even showing up. There was no way he could really help, not without starting an actual war, and nobody in their right mind would ever do that.

Not for me, anyway.

When Lev comes back, he makes a shushing motion and takes me downstairs. There are a couple guards lingering in the hall, and they both nod at him and disperse once I come into view.

“Ten minutes,” he says, tapping his watch. “Then it’s back upstairs and you’re going to finish getting ready. Can you promise?”

“I promise.” I pause before ducking into the living room and give him a tight hug. He seems startled, since we’re not really an affectionate family like that, but he hugs me back. “Ten minutes,” I repeat and hurry in.

The piano feels good at least. I spread my skirt around me and it’s like sitting in a snowstorm. I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m back in my Paris apartment lost in a steady storm of loneliness and depression, and I start to play. The notes come out slow at first as I build up speed, running through the songs I wrote to help describe how I was feeling.

The music helps. I always does. Especially these songs. It’s like no matter how bad things get, if I can express what’s happening inside of me through the music then I can blunt the worst of my pain. I plan and play, shoulders hunched, falling in deep into the music and forgetting about what’s happening outside, aboutmy father and my future husband, about Bianca and the Marino Famiglia, about the wedding and the baby inside of me, and about Alex. I push it all away and I dive into the music.

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