Page 82 of Devil's Bride

After a single discussion with her, I’d come to the reprehensible conclusion that after everything she’d been through, her mind refused to be budged.

“I look like an ugly duckling pretending to be Cinderella.”

“Sissy. Stop. I’m jealous of you.”

If there was one thing about teenagers, they were resilient. In the two days we’d been locked in a glorious castle like two Rapunzels, she’d returned to her sassy self.

Just like I’d been at her age.

She’d even commented that a couple of the enemy soldiers were cute or in her words, edible. I had to remind myself they were no longer supposed to be my enemies, all while biting my tongue when hearing her comments.

“Jealous? Of me? Why?” I smoothed the dress down in the front, twisting from right to left. Nope. I looked like some beached whale. This dress wouldn’t do.

I stood in front of a full-length, three-way mirror, hating the way I looked. At least Bella was beaming. I’d yet to smile and was certain that wouldn’t happen any time soon.

“Galletas y champán, señoras,” the way too helpful, pushy store clerk offered.

Cookies and champagne. The combination was almost as tasty as donuts and red wine. The woman was sporting a kind smile, but I’d caught on quickly that she had dollar signs in her eyes. Maybe she was a clairvoyant or perhaps the fact she was fawningover us like a vulture had to do with the brigade we’d traveled with. All three SUVs were parked out front, blocking way too many spaces for decent, paying customers.

Bella grinned wickedly as she snatched a cookie with one hand, grinning as if this was normal while reaching slowly for a glass of champagne with the other.

“Not a chance, Bella girl.” I fingered the one she was reaching for, admonishing the woman making the offer with my nastiest look. “How about a Coke for my sister?”

The woman frowned.

“Coca-Cola?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” She scuttled away and I wondered if she worked on commission.

“You were mean to her,” Bella told me with her mouth full of whatever cookies were being served. They’d looked a little suspect to me with chunks of red and green in them. It wasn’t fruitcake season. I’d be damned if my sweet sister didn’t have the same sarcastic tone I’d become famous for. She moved to one of the racks, flicking dresses with fervor.

“I wasn’t mean. I just don’t appreciate being patronized.”

She yanked a dress into her hand, held it out for a few seconds before bringing it to me. “Put this on.”

Scrunching my eyes, I tried to make heads or tails of what it looked like through the thin plastic. “Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

I took a gulp of champagne and thumped the glass down. “Said the spider to the fly.”

Bella scrunched her entire face as she peered at me.

“I forgot. It’s an American saying. It’s like luring the fly into the spider’s den so the insect can become caught in the web.”

She nodded several times. “I get it. Weird, but I get it. Would you prefer living there? You’re so different.”

There was a hint of pain in her tone. I had to remind myself she was only thirteen, only eight when I’d left. I’d been back for visits but had worked three summers during the break. I walked closer, hating myself for not calling her more often or even sending her postcards, something she absolutely adored. The girl wanted to travel the world.

Instead, she was locked in a castle and would be for an undisclosed timeframe. I hated it for her.

Hell, I hated it for me.

“Sweet Bella. I felt I needed to find myself because if I didn’t, I was going to die. That’s what it seemed like for seventeen-year-old me who’d begged to be set free from her cage.”

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

“Truthfully, I thought about never coming back, but Barcelona is my home. You and Marco are my family. No profession, no friendship, no glorious apartment or handsome but asinine man is worth sacrificing your family for. Remember that.”

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