Octavius

xxxv

FINLEY

       Wide dark brown eyes like those of melted honey gazed at me through the blinding mirror. Cascade of full dark curls fell down my bare silky shoulders, pink fleshy lips curled into a small pout.

        The woman staring back at me was beyond gorgeous, a illuminating glow to her brown skin. She was breathtaking in every way and took the center spotlight in the pure white off-the-shoulder glittering mermaid wedding dress, with Chantilly lace, topped with white petals that edged the shoulder sleeves of the strapless, crepe wedding dress.

        The white façade juxtaposed with a full back and train adorned in floral lace placements while depicting elegant floral motifs in lace and thread embroidery.

It was a simple elegant wedding dress, yet it brought tears to my eyes as I imagined loudly declaring my undying love for Octavius.

        "Damn it. I'm going to cry, I can't. You look so beautiful," Presley softly murmured, pools of shining tears flooded her eyes. "I think this is the dress, babe. What do you think?"

        "It's.. woah." I murmured lowly unable to respond back in actual words. I had never dreamed of getting married—ever because I could have never thought I would find love in the Devil of New York.

        I never imagined that a tall, big tattooed man would storm into my life, and wholeheartedly whirl me by surprise, a man that was crude, brutal with his words at times.

Cruel, cold blooded and unattainable—never to me. A moody, controlling man in every aspect of his life that ruthlessly owned and belonged to me in every way I could imagine.

Everyone who watched us would think we looked a little odd together. Octavius with his tall, muscular physique, roughly dark beard, tattoos and his menacingly haunting eyes; and I was short—barely reached his chest—and did not belong in his dangerous, secretive world but none of that mattered.

        "I think Octavius is going to flip out of his mind when he sees you in this." Presley whistled in low tone, her dark eyes scanning my elegant white gown from head to toe. I couldn't help the wide smile that remained on my lips as I thought about Octavius reaction on the day of our wedding.

I changed out of the wedding gown, wincing softly as I bent down. My soft fingers traced over the tiny, minuscule scar across my shoulder where I had gotten shot about three months ago—the day I thought I had truly reached the end of the line.

        A day that terrified and terrorized me every night I closed my eyes. I had desperately tried to forget about the accident but it was almost impossible.

For the first few weeks as I recovered, I was startled by any sudden sounds and would immediately hide, protecting myself from incoming danger or what I had perceived as danger.

Even as I stood, I knew without a doubt that I wasn't the same girl I was about two years ago when I first met Octavius but I couldn't care less.

        "No. The answer is no. Don't make me say no again," Silvio's low, husky voice reprimanded me, his dark olive-green eyes narrowing into slits from the screen of his phone.