Page 5 of Something Blue

Masaccio stands up. He glances backwards down the rows and rows of guests, all starting to grow impatient. “Shit. There are so many people here.” He sighs.

“I want to go look in his hotel room, but can one of you stand with Neve?” Dalila asks tightly.

“I’ll stay with her. Mas, go with Dalila.” I suggest.

Mas glares at me with his jaw clenched, but doesn’t say anything suggestive of my involvement. He wouldn’t want to upset our little sister.

“Fine. Let’s go.” He mutters under his breath.

We make our way out of our seats and into the aisle, walking quickly out of the church.

Neve is standing in the little foyer area, near a stained glass window that looks out into the garden behind the giant hotel. She looks like an angel with the colorful light of the window splashing over her. It’s me she should be marrying. Not some random asshole who doesn’t deserve her. She’s mine. She’s been mine since the second I set my eyes on her.

Mas and Dalila hurry away to search Damion’s hotel room.

I wander slowly over to Neve, my eyes tracing over her gorgeous body, the tight fit of her wedding dress sculpting perfectly over her small waist and wide hips.

“You are beautiful enough to break a hundredhearts tonight.” I say, and she spins around in fright, her eyes wide when they meet mine.

Fuck.

She is exquisite.

I shove my hands into my pockets and smile at her with my head tilted to the side. “Exquisite.” I say, winking at her.

She glares up at me, a foot shorter than me, but looking fierce enough to take me down. Not that she could. But I’d love for her to try. I chuckle to myself.

“Whatis so funny?” She snaps.

“Nothing.” I shrug. “I heard you needed a groom? I’d love to take over from the idiot who stood you up.” I take a step closer to her and she stiffens.

I can smell her perfume. Delicate, a hint of lemon. It’s fresh and enticing.

“He didn’t stand me up. He would never do that.” She mutters, quiet and tense, with my eyes locked onto her like a wolf hunting a tiny little rabbit.

She shudders as though something has run up her spine.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, clearing her mind, shifting her thoughts.

“What’s the time?” She demands. Her voice changed, no longer a meek whisper.

“Almost a quarter to five.”

I watch her swallow hard and the glittering shadow of tears that spring to her eyes.

“Five?” she mumbles. “The wedding was supposed to start at three thirty.”

She looks around as though she’s trying to find an escape and I step closer and reach out my hand, running it down her back, my fingers tracing over her body. She’s frozen, so I reach up and brush one of her tears away with the pad of my thumb.

“He’ll be here.” I reassure her, knowing I’m lying to her. I dip my thumb into my mouth and taste her tears.

Salty, sweet tears from the woman who belongs to me.

She steps back, away from me, throwing me a foul glare. “Don’t touch me, Celso.” She sounds more flustered than offended. Her breath hitched slightly.

Mm.

I’d love to know what else she tastes like.

---