Page 18 of Twisted Obsession
“What?” I turned sharply toward her, my mind struggling to process her words. “Did you say two weeks?”
“Yes. We have no time to waste. I’ve chosen a few dresses I thought you might like,” Camile gestured toward the collection of gowns I had noticed upon entering the sunlit room. “I’ve also brought some magazines so you can choose flowers and colors for the reception.”
I thought after being caged for ten days, Dmitri would have postponed the wedding. The sudden whirlwind of events was overwhelming. I had gone from serving tables at a five-star restaurant to being held captive, and now I was to become the bride of the man who had imprisoned me. Though Camile had been present when Yuri whisked me away, perhaps she was unaware of the reasons behind my captivity. She might be my only hope for escape.
Camile handed me the first dress, and it was a vision of elegance and beauty. The fabric shimmered under the soft lighting, a cascade of silken white that promised to transform any bride into a vision of loveliness. Alongside the rack of wedding dresses, she had thoughtfully provided a folding privacy screen adorned with delicate floral patterns, behind which I could discreetly change. I quickly slipped out of my current attire and into the long, flowing gown she offered. The moment the fabric brushed against my skin, I knew it was exquisite, yet it didn’t resonate with me. I handed it back to her, ready to explore the next choice she had selected.
Dress after dress, I tried them on, yet none seemed to capture the essence of the wedding I had envisioned since childhood. Each gown was exquisite, crafted with care and elegance, but they couldn’t fulfill the dream I had cherished: a wedding where I would marry a man I truly loved, living in a house filled with warmth, and surrounded by beautiful, joyful children.
The next dress Camile handed me was a decision made out of sheer determination rather than delight. I resolved that this would be the one I wore, regardless of how it appeared on me. As the silky fabric slid up over my hips, I noticed it fit more snugly and comfortably than the others I had tried on. The dress had no visible buttons, just an artfully concealed zipper hidden beneath a seam. Frustratingly, I couldn’t reach behind me to zip it up.
Clutching the gown against my chest to keep it from slipping, I emerged from behind the screen with a tentative smile. “Can you help me with the zipper?” I asked, carefully turning so Camile had access to the zipper that started below my bottom and ended at my lower back.
“Of course,” she replied, her touch gentle as she guided the zipper up my spine. Her fingers were deft, yet careful, as she secured the small, tricky hook at the top. “There. That should do it,” she said, satisfaction in her voice.
Turning to face her, I smoothed my hands down the front of the gown, feeling the fabric glide beneath my fingertips. “What do you think?” I asked, seeking her honest opinion.
“You’re stunning. I think you’ve found the perfect dress,” she confessed with a warm smile. “With your hair styled half up and half down, Dmitri won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
That wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. Letting my hair cascade freely over my shoulders would be a wiser choice, particularly because the bustier of this dress was designed with padding that lifted my breasts, revealing more cleavage than I was comfortable with. The gentle waves of my hair would drape gracefully, diverting attention away from the exposed skin.
When I finished getting dressed, Camile and I sat and looked through the magazines she had brought to get ideas on flowers and colors for the wedding. My mind wasn’t on either of them. Taking a chance that she could help me. I looked to the door to make sure we were alone.
“Camile, how well do you know Dmitri?” I asked, hoping she would tell me.
“I’ve known Dmitri for a long time. Why do you ask?”
“Do you know that he kidnapped me and is forcing me to marry him?”
“Really. That doesn’t sound like Dmitri at all,” she replied, seeming genuinely surprised. “I can’t believe he would do such a thing. You can’t marry a man you don’t love.”
“Exactly. I need to get out of here.” I placed my hand on her wrist and gave it a light squeeze. “Can you help me?”
“I don’t know.” Camile pulled my hand from her wrist and picked up another magazine.
“Please, Camile. You are my only chance of getting out of here.”
I could tell that she was debating on whether or not to help me—her gaze kept reverting to the door and then back to me. “This could be really dangerous for both of us.”
“Please,” I begged. “He killed my father and I’m afraid after he gets what he wants from me he will kill me too.”
Even though Dmitri said he didn’t kill my father and there was no evidence that he was even dead, I couldn’t help but feel like he was lying.
“Okay. I’ll help you.”
“How?”
Camile was silent for a moment, before she looked my way. “I’ll tell him I need to have you come to the dress shop—that I need to make a few alterations to your dress.”
“He will never let me go.”
“He will if I ask him,” she assured me. “Dmitri is the kind of man who expects everything to go smoothly. If there is a chance that your dress might expose your lovely breasts, he won’t be the least bit happy.”
“What about his guards?”
“You let me handle them.”
“And Dmitri. You know he will want to come,” I whispered, like saying his name would trigger him hearing our plan.
