Daring to Love

Prologue III

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He carries an air of dominance that is both magnetic and intimidating as he walks in, a master of his own emotions that were inscrutable even in this moment. It was only after he closed the door behind him and turned to face me again that the walls seemed to recede - even if just a little bit. When the world fades away and leaves just us, I see glimpses of vulnerability hidden beneath his steely exterior.

Glimpses he revealed just to me…

He stands tall at 6”5, his imposing figure draped in a black, impeccably tailored suit that seems to meld seamlessly with his chiseled frame and-matched well with his olive-toned skin. His black hair is slicked back, not a strand out of place that makes his features more intense and his aura more formidable. His gray-blue eyes-piercing, intense-hold a depth that belies their unreadable exterior. They’re the kind of eyes that can scrutinize your soul and dismiss you at a single glance.

And they were currently seeing right through my soul as they always did.

“Stellina…”

The term of endearment was jarring, sending waves of nostalgia through me. His voice is a deep rumble, commanding and velvety, capable of bending the will of even the most steadfast opponent - me included.

“Rome…I didn’t think you’d come. This isn’t really your kind of scene..”

“For you, Fernanda, I’d always come.”

There was no ounce of deception in his words, his gaze unwavering even whilst I struggled to catch my breath at their impact to my hammering heart. He always did this, said something that almost shattered my world before I remembered that he was unattainable.

Roman Vero would always be my big brother’s best friend and nothing more…

“Stop teasing me, Rome…”

I chuckled away the barrage of emotions rushing through me as I watched him come closer, one hand behind his back whilst he shoved his other into his pocket a little rougher than was normal.

“I wouldn’t dare, stellina…I come bearing a gift…”

His gaze was contemplative as he stretched out the hand that was behind his back, showcasing the surprise that brought the biggest smile to my lips. His eyes that had been traversing my body now settled on my lips for a minute longer before they returned to my eyes. Awareness prickled through me at the scorching touch of his eyes, but I was too excited at my gift.

It was a bridal bouquet, definitely not the arrangement of generic white roses that Karen had chosen for me. No, this was different. This was my favorite flower whose scent filled me with a sense of serenity.

“A bouquet of white daisies… Now I know something isn’t right. You’re never this intentionally thoughtful. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to make up for something and yet here you are...”

Whereas Santiago was more open and approachable, Roman was the direct opposite in every sense of the word. Despite the cool charisma he could exude when he wanted to, there’s always an icy distance in his demeanour—a fortress of control that he’s carefully constructed. He’s a master of his own emotions, a trait that only intensifies my longing. There’s a darkness in him, a shadow that lingers behind the facade. It’s that darkness that draws me in, a mystery I am fascinated by.

It's also why I know that this isn’t just some bouquet…he puts meaning in everything he does…

“Here I am… Are you happy, Fernanda?”

His question caught me off guard, halting my fingers that brushed against the memorial charms that he had transferred to this bouquet. Our gazes met, neither one of us wavering as so many emotions coursed through me, too much to comprehend. But in his eyes, there was a glimpse of vulnerability hidden beneath his steely exterior. And I found myself teetering on the edge of hope and despair, dreaming of a connection that seemed as unattainable as it is irresistible.

Could he really…care?... or is this him taking up Santiago’s role? He’s always been his own brand of protective…

It was a silent musing that I would never voice. One that was too good to be true and probably part of my delusions. The second option sounded more logical, more like the Roman Vero I knew. And so my answer was just as clear.

“Yeah, I am.”

I granted him a warm smile, a true smile that came from my convictions. I thought about Zephyr, and about my family. My responsibility to them was more important than anything - especially my own happiness. I could not let them down for a crush on a man who would never look at me as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.

“Good. Your happiness is all that matters, stellina. Now, come, they’re waiting for us.”

His hand was warm, reassuring as he placed mine on his arm, the two of us leaving the room together to camera flashes from the wedding photographers. Although we walked in silence, our gazes brushed against each other as we did with everything fading away around us. Words didn’t have to be spoken. Somehow, we could understand each other perfectly.

The processional waited at the bottom of the stairs we were descending, the wedding planners looking incredibly relieved at the sight of us but it was too soon for me. No moment with him ever felt like enough time and this was no different. But I had hardened my heart many times before to prepare myself for these very moments.

This one hurts a little more…I guess because this is the last time I could allow myself to feel the immense love I had for him…

We turned to face each other once at the bottom, my desire to hug him one last time with the intense emotions I had hidden within me overwhelming me. And so I leaned forward, wrapping my hands around his neck as he reluctantly but surely responded by wrapping his own arms tightly around my waist.

“Thank you, Rome. For coming. You being here…it means everything to me. Everything…”

I meant my words to the deepest depths of me, holding my tears at bay as he whispered words I couldn’t quite hear over the flurry of activity around us.

“Ovunque tu sia... ovunque tu vada. Ti troverò sempre. Tornerò sempre da te. Tu ed io... questa non è la nostra fine. Non adesso. Mai.”

“Go, it is time.”

He gestured at my grandfather, who approached us, nodding to Roman in greeting, before he took my hand in his own. Walking away from him was hard and every bit of me yearned to stay by his side even as the processional began. Looking back was a mistake I would not make lest I break under the pressure. I held onto my sanity even as the bridal march played whilst I walked down the aisle and beyond that, when I recited my vows and was proclaimed as Mrs. Saint James.

Rickon and I’s kiss was short and sweet, a moment filled with cheers, applause and camera flashes. But my mind wasn’t on anyone else but him. My eyes searched the crowd, turning to where I had felt his gaze come from last. But the seat was vacant.

He was gone…

***