Bound To You

Chapter 2

Valeria

The relentless butterflies in my stomach would not calm, no matter how many deep breaths I took. I was a mix of nerves and excitement, reclined in the chair the makeup artists had brought, staring at the ceiling of my bathroom while they dolled me up to look pretty. I let them do whatever they wished. My mother had insisted on a professional photographer, and if she didn't get her flawless photos she would be after my blood.

When they finally straightened the chair, I had to admit I looked phenomenal. I was amazed by how much power makeup held. My skin looked like glowing alabaster, my amber eyes looked like melted honey, and my full lips were painted a gorgeous red. They'd added blush to my cheeks, and coated the foundation onto the collarbones, right down my arms, and across my upper back.

They led me into my room and dressed me in my off-shoulder, sparkling wedding gown. I had picked it out specifically, and it was the only time I had truly fought my mother. Fought with her badly enough that she relented and let me have it. For one, it was my choice because it suited my style, but also because hell would have to freeze over for me to even consider wearing the stupid frilly monstrosity she'd picked out. I didn't care if it didn't make the photos look magnificent enough. This was my wedding, and I would damn well wear the dress of my choice. She might have a say in everything else, but the dress I wore would be up to me.

"We're ready, ma'am," came the quiet voice of one of the three artists that had been working on me for the past hour. She stood at my left side, at least a foot shorter than me, and spoke hesitantly. I nodded and smiled, then turned to the door with a deep breath.

The butterflies swirled worse than ever, and if I didn't start moving soon, I would never move.

I willed one foot in front of the other, the makeup artists following me out of my room. I swung open the door to find my mother waiting near the opposite wall. She looked as regal as a queen in a deep blue velvet gown, a diamond set of jewels, and a tiara. She looked me over from head to toe, gave me one cold nod of approval, turned on her heel, and made her way down the hall towards the staircase.

I hadn't opted for a veil, which had led to another fight with my mother, but it had been worth it. Getting down in my gown was tricky enough without having to worry about a veil. I descended slowly, holding the dress in my gloved hands so I didn't trip over it.

And finally, I made it out the front door and into the car waiting for me.

I was jittery and fidgety the entire way there, twisting my fingers and bouncing my crossed legs rapidly, breathing so heavily I was just short of hyperventilating. I focused on a point on the leather seat in front of me, not daring to look out in case the buildings passing by reminded me of our destination and what awaited me there and sent me into a full-blown panic attack.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, it was all I could do to not fall apart entirely.

I was hanging on by a thread, enough so that I started praying, which, to my surprise, worked. It calmed my nerves and settled my stomach, filled me with strength as I was helped out of the car by the stone-faced driver. I walked around to the front of the car and lifted my head.

My jaw dropped.

Oh, this was a definite upgrade.

I reared back as the thought flashed across my mind. How horribly shallow of me. I loved my house, I truly did.

But there was no denying the sheer beauty of the mansion before me. The towering, intricate, black gates led onto a solid stone path, leading to a huge rosewood door. The establishment itself was a sprawl of stone, marble, and black coned rooftops. It was built asymmetrically, peppered with towers here and there, large sections of wall sprawling. Some towers on the upper levels were broad and circular.

The gates swung open silently, the gatekeeper's gaze already fixed on me. I focused on the stone pathway, conscious of every movement I made lest I trip and fall, or damage the dress somehow.

The doors followed the gates' lead, two servants staring at the ground as I walked into the checker floored, stone walled foyer.

Walked in to behold my soon-to-be in-laws.

I offered Carlos and Gloria a small smile. I expected them to dip their heads, the portrait of hesitance.

What I did not expect were their broad smiles. Carlos laughed joyously, splaying open his arms as he walked forward and wrapped me in a warm bear hug. One that I absolutely loved. One that I had never once received from my father.

Carlos was a huge man, tall and broad-shoulder, which made it a truly bear-like hug. I grinned unrestrained as I hugged him back. He wore a light grey tux with a black bow tie and a white rose in the pocket square.

I smiled at him as we pulled back to find him beaming down at me. He opened his mouth to say something-

His wife got there first.

All but yanking me out of his grasp, she clutched my hands tightly, her round, motherly face shining with delight. "Oh, mi carino, you look absolutely gorgeous!" she gushed, her eyes filling with tears. A blush rose up my throat, coated my face, and seeped into my hairline.

Carlos clicked his tongue playfully. "Now, now, mi querida, you're making the poor girl go red as a beetroot!" Gloria giggled abashedly.

"No, no, it's fine," I laughed.

"Well then! Let's get you inside," Gloria said excitedly. They stepped aside and I finally noticed the huge stone and marble archway that linked the foyer to the voluminous living room.

It was rather like walking into a low-ceilinged palace.

The entire space was awash with golden light emitted by a glass chandelier, the entire room designed in red rugs, cushioned cream couches, and wooden tables. An enormous set of black-bordered glass doors occupied the wall directly in front of us, leading onto the grassy grounds of the estate. On the right, another set of wooden doors punctured with translucent glass lay open, a smaller sitting room near identical to this one visible through it.

On the left, another stone and marble archway led to a sweeping staircase, a wooden cupboard consisting of glasses and presumably alcohol tucked into the alcove beneath it. To the left of the staircase, yet another archway led to a spacious dining room, a bit of the same black bordered glass visible along its edge.

"Sit down, chica, sit, sit," Gloria said sweetly, ushering me onto a couch. I took my seat in the center of the left couch, sinking into the cushions. She took a seat on my right, and Carlos sat down on the couch opposite us.

A beat of silence passed. Then Gloria said, "I am truly sorry that this was sprung on you on such short notice. I can't even begin to imagine how you are feeling, mi chica. Tell me, are you afraid?" with such concern shining in her eyes that I was momentarily taken aback.

"I . . . uh . . . I'm fine," was my genius response. They swapped an unconvinced look.

"We wish it didn't have to be this way, mi novia," Carlos said with a sigh. I smiled slightly and nodded. My nerves had calmed, though I knew it was momentary.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this, mi amor?" Gloria asked gently. "Vanillos said you were somewhat eager, but I want to see if you really are, or if you were just acting to please him."

I was liking my new family more every second. "I am. I'm quite eager."

"I'm glad you are, chica. But-" Gloria began.

A knock sounded, and all three of us turned to find a young servant standing in the archway, his arm still raised, fist against the stone. He lowered it quickly and cleared his throat.

"It's time," he said quietly, stepping back into the foyer. Indeed, the front doors were being held open by the servants who were once again staring at me.

I let out a small sigh, then pushed off the couch, Gloria and Carlos rising with me. I turned, then walked out of the living room, out the door, and into the lawn, the couple trailing behind me.

It was time.