Page 61 of Depths of Desire
"Uh-huh."
Mia smiles brightly. "I brought you a dress."
"Great," I mutter.
"So you’ll do it? You’ll marry Nico? It really is for the best," she presses.
"Sure, I’ll marry Nico.” What else am I gonna say? I figure it’ll take a couple of days. That gives me forty-eight hours at most to plan and execute an escape. I just have to figure out how. One of them will be weak enough to help me. Or gullible enough to believe me.
"That’s great news," Mia says brightly. “Luna has agreed to marry Nico.”
Nico watches me closely, and I can feel the weight of his stare like a vise tightening around my chest. His gaze searches my face with a quiet, predatory patience, as though he’s trying to read all the thoughts I don’t dare say aloud.
I give him a small nod, my fingers curling into fists to keep from trembling. There’s no point in fighting it. Not now. Not when everyone is watching. But deep down, a flame of defiance smolders—I will escape. I might be married when I do it, but I will escape.
"That is good," he says again, but his voice is low, wary. The words sound hollow, like he's testing them on his tongue and finding them bitter.
His brow furrows just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but I catch it. He doesn’t believe me. And worse—he might be hurt by that. Not that it changes anything. We haven’t spent enough time together to truly be in love, but I already care about Nico. And that’s the other reason I want to leave. He’s marrying me because he feels obligated. I don’t want a marriage built on obligation—or lust. I want a real marriage.
“I brought a dress, and we can do your hair. It will be wonderful, I promise,” Mia says with an overly-bright smile.
“Wait, what? A dress? What are you talking about?” I feel nauseated.
Nico cuts in. "Malrick Comescu has requested that the vampire Council meet. We’re running out of time."
My heart slams against my ribs, and drawing a breath borders on impossible. "What does that mean?"
"It means a priest is already on the way. We’ll be getting married within the hour."
I shoot to my feet. "What? I didn’t say—wait, an hour?" My knees buckle. I crash back into the seat. "That’s not fair."
"Fair or not, that’s what’s going to happen," Nico states.
Renzo adds, "Mia, Pippa—why don’t you take Luna and help her get dressed?"
" Great idea," Mia says. She grabs my arm.
Pippa follows suit, and together they help me to my feet.
As we pass the kitchen, I spot Carson. "Carson, can we have a bottle of champagne, please? Uh…maybe a couple?"
"Of course, Miss."
"That’s the spirit!" Mia chirps.
But Pippa just squeezes my arm. She knows. She knows I’m not celebrating. I’m trying to get drunk. I’m trying to survive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Istare at myself in the antique mirror. The dress is gorgeous. Everything I’d ever want in a wedding dress if this were real. Layers of ivory silk and delicate lace hug my body in all the right places. The intricate beading on the bodice catches the faint candlelight like dew on spiderwebs. The skirt flows out in soft waves, airy and light. A satin ribbon wraps just beneath my chest, tied in a subtle knot at my back. It’s elegant. Romantic. It doesn’t belong to a bride being forced to marry a vampire.
The church is ancient, nestled high above Nice like a forgotten relic of another century. Stone walls, with thick wooden beams that cross the ceiling. It’s like they’re both holding up the weight of time. Everything is lit by candlelight—hundreds of tiny flames flickering in sconces and candelabras, casting shadows along the walls. The scent of roses and incense clings to the air, old and sacred.
But it’s not real.
I’m marrying Nico so they don’t kill me, and he’s marrying me to keep the family from looking bad. Somehow, I’ve ended up exactly where I never wanted to be. The candlelight gives mea halo, and it makes me laugh. I don’t want a halo. Not with the murderous thoughts I have in my head.
“You look so beautiful,” Pippa says. I give her a half smile. She continues, “Why don’t I go out and see if the boys are ready?” She squeezes my shoulder and leaves the room.
