Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“It’s me, Lita. You don’t have to be Adela Quintana right now. I know you. You can cry because you’re apprehensive. You don’t have to be the hardened princesa around me.”
I stared at Charley. I wanted to tell her everything. Get it all off my chest to someone other than Luis, who I felt had, in a way, turned against me. At least, he thought it was unwise to still hold on to hope for Tanner and me. But I couldn’t stop. No matter if all was lost, I would never give up on us. Even though all hope was gone.
I straightened my spine. “It’s just nerves.”
Charley rubbed my hands. She was kind like that, but very like me in the way she wanted more for herself than to be some man’s showpiece. In our world there weren’t many women like that. She was going to be my bridesmaid. My only one.
Charley pointed at my dress. “And should you be wearing that now? You get married tomorrow. You don’t want it to be damaged.”
I ran my hand down the white silk. “Selena, the designer, has just made the final adjustments. I dismissed her.” I shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see myself in it without anyone else around.”
I could see the sympathy in Charley’s eyes. “It’s late. Has your father been to see you?”
I nodded. He had been two hours ago to tell me how proud he was. Your mother would have been so proud of you, Adela. So proud . . . like me. You’ve picked a good man, princesa, a good man . . .
But I hadn’t picked him. My father had. He had railroaded me into the relationship just like he railroaded me into everything else. Then, when my father had left, Diego had been by too, the excitement for tomorrow clear in his eyes. I can’t wait to have you tomorrow, Adelita. To have you under me . . . finally.
“I’m tired,” I said and sighed. Charley knew I was lying. But mercifully, she didn’t say anything. She leaned in and kissed my cheek.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to stay with you?”
“I’m sure,” I said. “But thank you. I . . . I just need to be alone.” With a tight hug, Charley went to leave my room. “Charley?” I called. She turned. “Could you make sure no one else disturbs me until morning? That they know I need time alone? Please?” Charley nodded and left.
In her wake, I locked all the doors to my bedroom so no one else could come in. I walked back to the mirror and gazed at myself in the dress. And I imagined it all differently. I imagined it was Tanner I would meet at the end of the aisle. I imagined it was his face that would watch me walk toward him.
I turned away from the mirror and lay down on my bed. Closing my eyes, I let the tears fall. I let the salty drops fall onto the lace of the dress, my pain woven into the delicate fabric. Good. I wanted tomorrow to be ruined. I wanted to burn the bastard wedding to the ground.
Hours ticked by, and darkness enveloped the room. My eyes felt bruised from the tears I had shed. My eyelids had started to fall, sleep closing in, when I heard a clicking sound from the hidden door in my wall. The door behind a tapestry. My eyes sprang open and my heart started thundering in my chest.
Only a couple of people knew of the underground tunnels. One of whom was . . . “Mi amor?” I whispered. Hope and fear mixed into one heady cocktail as I felt a warm draft dance over the exposed skin on my back. Warm air from the open hidden door.
Someone was behind me. They were silent, but I felt them there. My hands fisted into the sheet beneath me. “You came,” I whispered, feeling my chest swell with relief. “You came for me before it was too late.”
Only silence followed. Taking a deep breath, I turned on the bed, just as something pricked my neck. A man dressed in black with midnight eyes stood before me. I went to scream, but a hand came over my mouth, muffling any noise. Instinct kicked in, and I started fighting back against the intruder. I kicked out my leg, hitting him in the stomach. I hit his muscled arms with my fists. Pure fear made me sink my nails into his skin, clawing and clawing, tying to throw him off. But with every kick and punch I felt my muscles getting weaker, losing strength. My neck. He’d injected something into my neck. Panic, thick and deep, surged through my veins. But I had nothing left in me to fight with. Black spots danced in my eyes, blurring my vision. My kidnapper picked me up and headed for the secret tunnel. The last thing I saw was the reflection in the large wall mirror: a man dressed in black leather, carrying me, a stolen bride, away into the night . . .