Death Between Your Lips

Thin Lines

Everything in my life had gone wrong the minute I turned 16. My mother's death, Uncle Alessandro's death, then meeting Leone.

The rest of last night had been a blur, and somewhere inside me, I had hoped, as I lay awake throughout, staring at the gun I should have used back in that restaurant, that Leone would back out of this alliance.

He hated me just as much, and I hoped he would realize overnight that he hated me too much to share a house with me and take some stupid vows.

But by the time the sun rose, the first thing I was greeted with was the car entourage from brave hearts.

"The engagement party is scheduled for the fifteenth of this month," Dad read from the document of events that had come with the boxes of jewellery and diamonds.

I could see the glee in my father's eyes, and even though it killed me deep inside, I knew there was nothing I could do.

"The couple photoshoot will be two days after the engagement party, and then you and Leone will meet with the hired planner to state your preferences."

I swallowed hard, my eyes scanning the room. "Can't they just do whatever they want?"

"It is still your wedding," Dad said, standing up. "It is still my only daughter, and Don Luciano's only son's wedding. It has to be grand and befitting of the most powerful union in history."

I bit down on my lower lip. "If I have nothing scheduled today, I would like to go somewhere."

My dad shrugged. "I believe you wouldn't make any rash decisions."

Without another word, he walked away, his words echoing off the walls, ringing back to me like a threat.

I took a cold shower and dressed up quickly, then made my way downstairs again. I could hear my father on the phone now, and he was talking about the wedding to someone.

Without bading goodbye, I made my way out of the house.

The drive lasted a little more than forty minutes, and I parked the car in front of the secluded penthouse that was carefully tucked away in the quiet outskirts of the city.

I made my way to the front door, and using the spare key that I always had, I opened it, then walked in.

"Andrew?" I called, my eyes scanning the sitting room.

It had been my decision to buy this place to shield Andrew from the mess of the family I was born in. Now that I was suddenly entangled with Brave Hearts, I was especially happy about that decision.

"Andrew?" I called again, then started to head upstairs when the downstairs telephone rang.

I stopped and turned to it, my brows furrowed. Only Andrew and I used the telephone, and it was mostly to avoid him being tracked down by my father.

I knew my relationship with him was pretty much a taboo, and I have done everything to keep him well hidden.

Something immediately felt off, and I ran to the telephone and picked it up, bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"H... Hey, Gine."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Andrew. Where are you? I am at the penthouse and..."

"Are you going to come see me?"

I nodded. "I have something to tell you. It doesn't change anything between us, but... I need to see you in person."

There was brief silence before he replied. "Could you come to Royaume de couture?"

My brows furrowed. "What would you be doing over there?"

Another brief silence. "Just come. I have something for you."

I dropped the phone, my heart skipping a beat. Royaume de couture was the most luxurious fashion house in the city, with less than one per cent of the entire population being able to afford a scarf from there. Knowing Andrew, he wasn't part of that percentage.

Pushing my doubts aside, I went still. I parked the car outside and made my way through the large glass doors. The place was eerily quiet, just like the penthouse that I had just left, and I felt that unsettling feeling rise up my chest once again.

"Miss Ginevra Matteo?"

I turned, my eyes meeting that of an assistant. She had a polite, curious smile, her eyes scanning mine.

"Yes."

"Please come with me."

I followed behind her as we walked through the large space, till we finally got to the female bridal dressing room.

"What..."

"He is waiting for you inside."

I swallowed hard, hoping it wasn't what I thought. What if Andrew had come to get me a wedding dress? What if he was planning on our marriage while I was getting ready to marry Leone?

Tears filled my eyes, but I knew I had to go in no matter what.

I turned the door knob and walked in, expecting to see Andrew's normally cheerful face, but the first thing I saw was the smoke of a cigar.

My eyes widened, my hand still holding the door knob, and my mind struggled to grasp unto what I was seeing.

Andrew was on his knees on the cold floor, bright red blood trickling down the edge of his forehead, and there was a host of suited men standing around the dressing room.

"Andrew!"

I turned, and sure enough, Leone was sitting on the large couch, his legs crossed, a cigar dangling off the edge of his lips.

He wore a dark smile as his eyes met mine, and he slowly removed the cigar from his lips.

"You would think getting married would definitely change the dynamics with your little secret fuckboy, Ginevra. You are braver than I thought."

"How dare you?" I said, stepping forward, my eyes blazing, my body trembling so hard from anger that I thought I would collapse.

Leone laughed dryly, then shrugged. "I realized a little too late that I forgot to add the wedding dress shopping in the wedding preparations I sent you. I took time out of my busy day to get his opinion."

"He did nothing to you."

His smile fell off, and his eyes darkened, the coldness seeping through me.

"Try the red one," he said simply, as an assistant walked to me, her head slightly bowed.

"This way," she said, her voice low.

"Who the f**k do you think you are? You think I will try on a wedding dress and come in here and twirl for you?"

He didn't reply, but the men standing around did. Before I knew it, they had closed in around Andrew, guns drawn.

"Leone!"

He didn't even bother to reply, like the only way to get him to answer was to do exactly what he wanted.

"Please let him go," I whispered, my resolve to kill him on the wedding night strengthening even more.

He still didn't reply, and, accepting my fate, I let the attendant direct me towards the enclosed space.

I cursed under my breath as the attendant unzipped the cover of the dress, then let it fall away.

My lips parted as I took in the dress. It was dark red, like the colour of dried blood, but it was beautiful. It looked like something I would have chosen to get married to Andrew in.

I closed my eyes as the assistant carefully wore it on me, then gently fixed the buttons behind and smoothened the lace over my body.

It looked like it had been made especially for me. The way the lace traced the curves of my body, the way it was the exact mermaid shape that I always wanted to get married in, as opposed to princess ball gowns.

"It is perfect. The measurements came out perfect," the assistant gushed, taking a step away from me.

My brows furrowed, and I turned to her. "Measurements? What measurements?"

Her brows furrowed. "For the dress. Your measurements."

"I never gave my measurements for a dress."

She gave a polite smile. "Someone definitely did, miss. Around three months ago. The dress is custom by our lead designer, Miss Veronica. You are the only woman in the world with this exact dress."

My brows furrowed as my mind reeled with the new information.

"Let me help you," she said, then gently started to lead me towards the curtains.

I stood there, absent minded as she opened the curtains to unravel me to Leone.

My measurements were given three months ago for a wedding dress. Three months ago, I was still in the dark about Leone having made it out ten years ago, and that he was with Brave Hearts.

I slowly looked up, and to my surprise, Leone was the only one in the room now. He was watching me through dark lenses, and my heart sank.

Three months ago, he made my wedding dress. My ring fit too. It is almost like... we are all pawns in his game.

He met my gaze, and his lips curled up in a cold, humourless smile, but his eyes.... his eyes lit up with something else.

Something that was deathly close to the thin line between pure hatred and unfiltered desire.