Page 69 of Dance with the Devil
Deal with the Devil
Dante
Four WeeksLater
June 2nd
Today is our wedding day. Francesca is officially mine, and we’re going to be parents. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I’ve worked for, every obsessive thought and second guess, every quick remark and brush of my fingers against her face… the small moments got us here, and I can’t think about how immoral it was at times.
I don’t care.
Nothing else that could ever compare to the feeling of having everything I want right in front of me.
There’s a profound sense of completeness inside of me, of rightness. All the pain, all the darkness from my past, it’s all been worth it for this. For her.
I can’t help but reflect on everything that led us here. All the obstacles, the boundaries I crossed, the lengths I went to keep her close. I used to think I was driven by obsession, by a need to possess, but today I see it differently. It wasn’t just about owning her; it was about finding something real, something that filled the void left by years of loss and abuse. I’ve never felt this kind of peace before.
Francesca and our baby are my salvation, my redemption. Every part of my life before this feels distant, almost like a dream I can barely remember. I was a man shaped by suffering and loss, carved by pain into a machine who worked too much and never cared to dig deeper. Never cared to fix myself, despite making it my job to fix others.
But now I am something new.
I’d do it all again if it meant having this life with her. I’d endure a thousand dark nights just to see her smile like she did last night at our rehearsal dinner?—
“Hey, are you busy?”
I spin around and lock my phone, eyes widening when Francesca walks into my suite.
“Frankie, what thefuckare you doing here? It’s bad luck to see you before the?—”
“Oh my god, do you really believe in superstitions?” she asks, and it’s then that I see the tears tracking down her cheeks.
Her balled fists.
Her anxious energy.
Fuck.
I jump up and rush over to her as my heart pounds in my chest. “What’s wrong?”
This is it.
This is the part where she tells me she’s leaving me, that it was all a mistake, that she can’t marry me or have a future with me?—
“I’m so hungry, but I don’t know what to eat. My corset is too tight, and my boobs are spilling out. I accidentally ordered decaf coffee so I’m tired, and the trees outside are so big, I can’t help but think of how long they’ve been alive, and how lonely they must get even though we’re in the middle of the city, you know? They’ll never get to see what it’s like in the forest.”
Then she bursts into tears.
I can’t help but smile, trying to hide my laugh as I envelope her inside of my arms, cradling her closely.
I fucking love this about her pregnancy symptoms. She’s emotional, and sheneedsme for the smallest things, like finding a pen or trying to remember how to make the cornbread she loves. Pregnancy brain is real, and everything over the last three months has made her overly dependant on me.
“How about you go finish getting ready,” I say, smoothing down her wet hair. She’s in a white bath robe, and I know Ari and her mom are probably freaking out that she’s with me. “I’ll hunt down some of that omelet you loved the last time we werehere and I’m sure your mom can help you with the corset. As for the trees…” I trail off, pressing my lips together so I don’t laugh.
She suddenly pulls away, and her brows knit together as she studies my face. “You think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you?” Her voice is small and unsure, and it makes my chest ache that I couldeversecond guess us.
That I could ever second guessher.
“I know I’m being completely irrational. I just feel so ugly, and bloated, and I’m not showing yet so I can’t even give the excuse that I’m pregnant. And you’re so fucking hot. People are going to wonder?—”
