Becoming Mrs DeLuca novel Chapter 14

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I stared at the knife in Adrian’s hand, and my stomach tightened, but I forced myself not to flinch. Instead, I gave a small nod and turned around, brushing my hair over one shoulder so it wouldn’t get in the way. The cool air of the room touched the back of my neck where the lace clung to my skin.

I stood there with my heart pounding in my chest, waiting. The blade hadn’t even touched me yet, but the awareness of it was enough to send a shiver down my spine.

My throat felt exposed and vulnerable. I thought of how easily he could lean down and press his mouth against my skin, and leave a mark that would tell everyone I belonged to him. The thought made my pulse race faster- not only from fear, but something else I didn’t want to name.

It struck me then how strange it was that, before tonight, I had imagined what it might be like if he showed mercy, if somehow he decided he didn’t want me after all. But now, standing here as his wife, that idea seemed impossible- almost laughable. There was no version of this life where he spared me.

I shifted my head just enough to glance back at him through my lashes. His expression was unreadable, hard

as stone.

“Everything okay?” I whispered. My voice broke on the question even as I tried to sound calm.

“Of course,” he said. His tone was clipped, harsher than it needed to be. The sound made me flinch, and I quickly dropped my gaze, afraid I’d already annoyed him. My whole body went stiff.

For a heartbeat, I thought he might apologize… There was a hesitation in the air, a pause, but nothing came. Instead, I felt his finger slide beneath the lace at my back, lifting it gently away from my skin. Even that small touch sent goosebumps racing over me.

Then came the sound of the knife. A sharp hiss as the blade cut through the fabric. My breath caught, and I jerked slightly before forcing myself still. Slowly, inch by inch, I pulled the ruined dress down over my hips, keeping my back to him, trying to focus on the fact that this was just another tradition.

The air against my bare skin felt cold, and I knew he was watching me. My cheeks burned. I was topless now. The thin lace of my underwear offered very little cover. I felt his gaze on me, heavy and intense like a physical touch against the parts of me I wanted to hide.

“Is it okay if I freshen up?” My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

“Of course,” he replied.

That gruffness made me risk a quick glance at his face. The heat in his eyes startled me, and I turned away fast, clutching what was left of my dress as I hurried into the bathroom. Only when the door shut behind me did I allow myself to breathe.

Inside the bathroom, I gripped the counter with both hands and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes were wide and almost glassy, as if I’d seen a ghost. In a way, maybe I had. I was looking at the ghost of the girl I’d been only a few months ago. I used to be carefree and sheltered, dreaming about college and rain and art. Now I was a wife. I was expected to be a woman tonight, expected to prove

18:45 Thu, Nov 6 d

Chapter 14

myself in a tradition that was older than me, older than my mother, maybe older than all of us.

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I pressed my palms to my hot face and tried to breathe. My heart was pounding, loud enough that it drowned out every other sound. He was out there waiting- Adrian De Luca, my husband. My husband. The word still felt strange, like acid on my tongue even in my thoughts.

On the counter, neatly folded, was the red silk nightgown my mother had insisted I pack. I brushed trembling fingers over the fabric. It felt like water, cool and slippery, like something meant for another woman entirely – someone confident and seductive, not a girl who still felt like she was pretending in her own skin.

I bit my lip, debating whether to put it on. If I walked back out there in my underwear, I’d feel exposed and vulnerable. But if I walked out in this, would it look like I was trying too hard? Trying to be something I

wasn’t?

Finally, I exhaled and slipped into the gown. The red was bold, shocking against my pale skin. In the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I tugged nervously at the straps, smoothed the fabric over my hips, then squared my shoulders.

Ready or not, I would have to go back out there.

The door felt heavier than it should as I pushed it open. My steps faltered when I saw him- Adrian, already waiting. His posture was composed, his eyes were unreadable. The silk clung to me in ways that made me feel both grown up and terribly small at the same time. My fingers wouldn’t stop fussing, first smoothing my bangs, then brushing against the hem of the nightgown. I curled my toes against the carpet, and let my bare foot draw nervous patterns on the floor.

“What now?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice sounded too soft, almost fragile, and I hated how obvious my nerves were.

He straightened, tall and commanding, and extended his hand. “Come here.”

The words carried no room for refusal. But there was no harshness in them either. I filled my lungs, as if courage could be stored like air, and walked toward him. The closer I got, the smaller I felt. Without my heels, I barely reached his chest. His presence was overwhelming. His broad shoulders, the faint trace of cologne, the warmth of his body was so close. And then there was that scent again, coffee and whiskey, filling my senses and almost knocking me over.

When his hand cupped the side of my head, I stopped breathing altogether. His eyes studied me. Then his lips brushed mine, so quick, so gentle, it almost startled me. I froze, unsure of what to do. A second kiss followed. His thumb brushed against my cheek, grounding me. I let my shoulders loosen, and leaned into it, even if just a little.

By the third kiss, my voice returned. “Why are you still wearing a jacket?”

He pulled back, and there was a flicker of amusement or maybe curiosity in his eyes. Without a word, he shrugged it off, letting the dark fabric land across the bench with a careless gesture. My eyes betrayed me, roaming over him as if they had a will of their own. The suit, the sharp lines of his vest, the way he carried himself, it was intimidating, yes, but also… something else I couldn’t really place.

“And the vest?” I asked with a sort of newfound courage I didn’t have before.