Tangled In Strings

Chapter Thirty

My eyes close, and my grip tightens on the phone, waiting anxiously for the next words.

"Giovanni is not Dixon. He doesn't act, talk, or think like him. And your marriage will thrive because of that."

I hear myself sigh, as the things she's saying manage to get to me, the rational part of me. And the weight on my shoulders, and heart, begins to diminish. "Yes."

"I've seen him look at you, Scarlett. Marry that man, as quickly as you can...Marry him, and everyone who's ever hurt you loses."

...

Thirty minutes. That's all that's left.

Bright, nervous eyes stare back at me in the mirror, as I wait for the inevitable knock that I know is coming. And when it comes, my whole body reacts, flinching.

I tell him to enter, and it sounds like a bark, simply because I'm too undone to control anything about me right now. I hear the beep outside the door of the key swiping along the lock, and then it's open. And I spin around to greet him.

Dressed to the nines, he's in a black tuxedo. The jacket is unbuttoned, revealing a perfect bow-tie and cummerbund around his waist. There's a delicate rose pinned to it, the same color as my roses—red. Classic, timeless. His curls are combed back, giving his face prime spotlight. He's all class, and composure, while I stand opposite him, completely awe-struck.

I'm marrying this man.

Nervous as I should be, I shuffle in place, letting him look over me, not brave enough to say the first words. His endless eyes falter, and flicker to meet my own, in shock.

"I haven't seen that dress in a very long time," he whispers about his creation. I smile, hearing my loud gulp in our silence. My hands clasp in front of my body, in front of the cream color silk gown Giovanni made for me just weeks after meeting one another.

"I-I love this dress," I say with a reluctant chuckle.

"I love you," he replies, before I've even finished.

I'm caught off-guard, and instantly feel my face flush with a furious heat. As he approaches me, setting down papers that were in his hand, cups my face between his hands, and forces my wavering gaze to him, I manage to smile.

"Giovanni."

"I'm the luckiest man alive."

My heart leaps. "Stop."

"I won't," he argues, his smile widening to a grin. My hand wraps around one of his wrists, as I begin to pray I won't feel this nauseous when we're in front of the woman marrying us.

"We need to go. We don't want to be late—"

I begin to pull away for his ring box and my bouquet, but he tells me to wait.

"There's something I want you to do first."

He picks up the papers I'd forgotten he'd brought in, and it's instant. I know what he's holding.

He looks at me, pleadingly and extends them to me. "I had your lawyer draw it up this morning. I already signed...and I'd really like you to, as well. I don't want a fight on it. I've compromised quite a bit, and this is important. Your inheritance is substantial, and I want no part in it."

I look from the prenup, without reading a single word, blinking in shock. "A prenup is drawn up in case a marriage should fail, Giovanni. It's a security, a plan B. This implies that what we have may not be forever—"

"Scarlett," he sighs, "you already know I'm not going anywhere. This just clears my conscience."

"There's no point for this if you're not planning on leaving me."