Page 53 of His to Bedevil

Floating on my back, I close my eyes and submerge myself in utter bliss. “You know, if you would have taken me to let’s say Russia or Canada, I’d be ten times more hostile. I probably would have killed you by now,” I tell him with my eyes still closed.

“Oh, yeah?” His voice seems so close even with my ears under the water. I crack an eye open a little and see him hovering close, just watching me.

I close my eyes again and relax as my fingers cut through the water. “Yup. I am a sucker for the ocean. The cold is only good for one thing. Snowboarding. Other than that, I absolutely hate it.”

“You were heading to Aspen, weren’t you?”

My eyes pop open, and I stand up. The water is up to my breasts but only comes up to his mid stomach. “What do you mean?”

“Before Istoleyou. Fynn Ryan booked a flight to Nebraska. Berto thought maybe you were heading somewhere not too far from there, and one of the places he guessed was Aspen.”

Remembering that day now, I look away and nod. “Yeah. It’s one of my favorite places to lay low after a job. A small break from the Miami heat.” My mom had never seen the snow before and would always talk about it.

Alejo stands in front of me now and strokes a finger down my cheek. “I promise to take you there. We can maybe go there for Christmas.”

Peering up at Alejo, I wish I knew a lot more about him. “You guys celebrate Christmas?”

He chuckles and pinches my chin a little before dropping his hand. “Of course we do. Don’t you?”

Arching my eyebrows, I thin my lips and glance away again. “Who the hell would I celebrate Christmas with?” I say with much more bitterness than I intended.

“You didn’t celebrate with Matches?”

The mention of his name fills me with a burst of rage, and I clench my fists. “No. We never celebrated Christmas together.”

It grows eerily silent, and when I can’t take it anymore, I peer back up at him. He’s staring at me, studying me. Trying to figure me out. Or maybe trying to figure out what the relationship between Matches and me was. Or is. He’s not dead… yet. I make the mistake of licking my lips. His gaze automatically turns heated as he follows the movement. Before I lose myself yet again, I begin to back away toward the shore. “I need to put on some sunscreen.”

Later that evening, we both join Lucas and their mother for dinner. Smoothing down my casual cocktail dress that I paired with some wedges, I sit down in the chair Alejo has pulled out for me. He pushes the chair in and then takes his place right next to me at the head of the table. Lucas is on his other side next to Berto, and Benita is sitting on my other side. It feels incredibly formal, and I’m feeling like a bit of a pariah among these sophisticated yet powerful people.

“Alejo, has Irma told you about the plans we have so far for the wedding?” Benita asks as the wine is being served.

I glance over at Alejo really quick, feeling my cheeks heat. He gives me a small smile and answers his mother. “She told me you have been a big help. Thank you, Mamá.”

“And did she tell you about her dress?”

I want to eye Benita, begging her to stop, but I don’t want to rain on her parade. She is so excited about this wedding, so I need to let her be. It’s actually pretty cute. “She did not. You found a dress, my love?”

The salads come, and I bite back a giggle when I see women I don’t recognize serving us. They’re all in their mid to late forties and nothing to look twice at. I take a peek at Lucas and catch him glaring at me, only making me want to giggle more. When I look over at Alejo, I find him looking at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. I don’t know if it’s Lucas’s pouting that he finds amusing or the fact that I find it a little funny that the beautiful women actually got fired.

“I did, yes,” I answer his question finally.

The morning before Alejo got home, a fancy dress designer arrived here. She brought several one-of-a-kind dresses with her, claiming they were all designed to fit someone petite and would need minimal alterations. It wasn’t until the last dress that I fell in love.

Standing in front of the mirror, I cringe at the first dress I was forced to try on. The designer beams at me, obviously very pleased with herself, but Benita looks at me, waiting. “Um.” I spin around, and I can’t find a single thing I like about it. It’s a big, puffy princess-style dress. “I feel…” I trail off.

“Ridiculous,” Benita finishes for me, and we both burst out laughing. The designer doesn’t exactly appreciate it.

The next three dresses are of the same style, and I understand these are Spanish-style wedding gowns, but they’re not exactly fitting for me personally. I look ridiculous. But the last one is like fate. It’s perfect and something I would pick out from dozens of dresses. It’s, I think, considered a boho style. It flares out from my waist like a princess gown but not nearly as puffy. It’s a tulle gown with capped sleeves and an open back. And to top it all off, there’s a bunch of fabric flowers placed strategically from top to bottom.

“Oh,mija.” I look at Benita in the mirror and notice she has tears in her eyes as she looks at me. “It is perfect.” It tugs at any and all heartstrings that I possess and makes me think of my mother and what she must be doing right now. What would her reaction be to seeing me in a wedding dress? Would it be something that she would give up the drugs for?

“I can’t wait to see you in it,mi amor.” Alejo grabs my hand on top of the table and gives it a light squeeze. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I get lost in this odd reality. I nearly forget that this marriage is not what I want and that Alejo did not get down on one knee and confess his love to me and ask me to marry him.

“And you will very soon,mijo,” Benita says, popping that little bubble I was in again.

Irma

It’s been three days since Alejo got back. After our day spent together, he’s been back to work as usual. Although, he does take a break before lunch when we go to the gym together. He even lets me spar with him and sometimes a guard of his choosing. And never once has either of us brought up Matches. I feel like I’ve been on my best behavior and deserve a little compensation.

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