Page 30 of Of Oaths and Secrets

“Sure,” I murmur, settling into the chair.

She begins her work, her hands steady and gentle. “Do you have any particular look in mind? Something soft and natural, or perhaps a bit more dramatic?”

“Natural,” I reply quietly. “But maybe a little color around the eyes to match the flowers on my dress.”

“Of course,” Sonia says, her tone understanding. “A soft lilac, perhaps? It’ll bring out the blue in your eyes.”

I nod, watching as she starts applying the makeup. Her touch is light, almost soothing, and I find myself relaxing a little, letting the rhythm of the brushstrokes calm me.

Lucia moves around the room, her presence comforting even in its quietness. She’s slipped into her dress—a light lilac gown that matches the flowers on mine perfectly. When she catches me looking at her, she gives me a small, encouraging smile.

“You look beautiful, Lucia,” I manage to say, my voice soft but sincere.

“Thanks,” she replies, smoothing the fabric of her lilac dress over her hips. “And you’re going to be stunning. Trust me, Rafaele won’t know what hit him.”

I smile at that, a small gesture of appreciation. Deep down, though, I doubt Rafaele will truly notice or care. He’s being forced into this marriage just as much as I am—more so, perhaps, because I had at least a semblance of choice.

I opted for no veil or tiara, just my grandmother's pearl comb in my hair—another break in tradition, but at this point, who’s counting? I stand up, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. Despite everything, I can’t help but smile at the sight. I am beautiful today. The décolleté enhances my figure, and the hair and makeup make me feel like a brand-new woman.

“You are truly stunning, Nora. One of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen,” Lucia says, resting her hand over her heart.

“You’re kind of obligated to say that. You’re my maid of honor,” I reply with a hint of a smile.

She snorts. “Please, I’d never lie about something like this.”

Just then, there’s a knock on the door.

“Nora, sweetheart, are you ready?” I hear my father’s voice from the other side.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” I nod to Lucia, who opens the door for me.

As we walk down the corridor, Leo appears with a smirk on his face.

“Do you need anything?” Lucia asks, her voice carrying a warning. I guess she’s not a fan of her cousin either.

“I just wanted to see the beautiful bride and wish her all the luck in the world.” He leans in closer and whispers, “You see my date?” I glance past him at the tall, stunning brunette standing awkwardly behind him. Her smile seems to be an apology.

“She is beautiful,” I say, trying to sound neutral.

Leo nods. “Her name is Camilla. She’s my brother’s favorite. The girl he spends most of his time with at The Sacristy.”

The Sacristy—the club where men go to fulfill their desires, married or unmarried.

“I see,” I reply, my voice even. “And you’re telling me this because?”

He shrugs. “Knowledge is power, isn’t it, sister-in-law?”

I don’t react, refusing to let him see how his words have shaken me. Lucia catches my eye and gives me a small, encouraging nod. We continue to the chapel, where the atmosphere feels heavy with expectation.

The space is filled with guests, the murmurs and rustling creating a low hum. The ceremony begins, and I try to focus on each step, each word of the vows, but it feels like a distant echo.

As I reach the altar, Rafaele stands there, his face composed, but his eyes… they’re fixed on me with an intensity I can’t quite decipher. I feel his gaze traveling over me, lingering on the way the dress reveals just enough of my figure. There’s something there—admiration, maybe even attraction—but I push the thought away. He’s just playing his role.

I step up beside him, and as the officiant begins, I lean in, whispering, “I’m sorry.”

Rafaele tugs at my arm, pulling me closer. “Why?” he asks, his voice low, curious.

I glance toward Camilla, elegant and confident in the audience, everything I’m not. “For choosing you without thinking about what you might want. I’m not her; I’m not Camilla. I’m sorry about last night. You have every right to be angry.”

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