In Your Clutches

Part 15: The Countdown

AMELIA

I gazed ahead to the long mirror at my reflection. My heart squeezed. This wedding dress was beautiful. Very beautiful.

The white dress was a heavy Ralph Lauren custom—made ball gown. It looked like it was pulled out from a fairy-tale, definitely fit for a princess. It's bodice hugged my figure, accentuating my breasts and tiny curves of my waist. The endless length of fabric flowing from the body created that magical effect, flirting with my legs as I moved.

The dress flowed past my ankles, sweeping across the floor. The bodice was covered with intricate lace pattern with an off-shoulder neckline. The tulles and lace fabric were covered with over 200,000 Swarovski white crystals.

The dress could be called with most appropriate word which was gorgeous.

The gown was so heavy, I wondered how I was going to walk down the aisle with it weighing down my body. Only the best for a Valentino and Salvatore wedding. It was gorgeous, fancy and expensive—nothing like my personal preference. I would have chosen something simpler and elegant—definitely less heavy and shiny—if I had had a choice.

But it was all about the people, and our image. This wedding had to be out of the ordinary, special and nothing like anyone had ever seen before.

I could imagine all eyes on me on the big day. I had been trying different wedding gowns since morning but none had been able to impress me and then I just decided on with this one because I didn't really have a choice. It did a pretty good job at making my mood worse.

I always felt that when you see the dress you wanted, you wouldn't have to try. You'd fall for it the same way you fell for the guy. He'd be the one, and the dress would be the one. That was if it was real.

It if were real, I would never have picked this dress. This morning, I thought I would make things less difficult on myself by pretending it was real. But I couldn't help it. I felt nothing when I tried it on. No joy. No remorse. Just... emptiness.

It sparkled against the sunlight, beaming in from the long French windows of the room. It was truly perfect. It was the most beautiful dress I'd seen, but still I couldn't make myself to like it, I knew I was doing injustice to the dress. It was a permanent reminder of my imprisonment and my disaster. I hated it.

It didn't feel like it belonged to me. It reminded me of poison. The same way poison works its way into your body and slowly kills you.

It had that effect on me. It was designed to hurt me and remind me that I was owned. I belonged to Asher, and he could do whatever he wanted to do to me.

"How's it going in there?" The seamstress called out from the other side of the curtains. The room was set up so I'd have some privacy to change.

"Good, I... like this one," I replied.

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror and made my way out through the curtains.

The seamstress gasped, along with Aunt Rufina who came with me. By the look on her face, she looked like she was going to cry.

It made me think of how I imagined my mom to be during this time. I teared up at the thought.

"My God," She was finally able to rasp. She walked up to me and held out her hands to take mine. I gave them to her, and she gently squeezed. "Amelia, you look truly beautiful."

"Thank you so much," I replied.

"My dear, you are one of the most beautiful brides I've ever seen." The seamstress stated, bringing her hands together.