Page 4 of The One
Think, think, think.
An image of Ella, our Don’s girl, flashes in my mind.
Although she was in love with him, she never bent to his will. I had a front-row seat to her defiance. Not once did she sit back and accept her fate.
So why should I?
She got away. Surely, I can too. Even if it’s at the last possible moment.
What would Ella do?
The question echoes in my mind.
I close my eyes, trying to channel the courage of the woman who’s become a friend, and since her escape, my hero.
She’d be the first one to tell me it’s never too late.
“Now, to the vows.”
Father Josef’s voice sends chills down my spine.
“Renaldo,” he inclines his head to my fiancé. “Mariella.” He smiles sympathetically at me. “Please join hands.”
Think, Mariella! Think!
My stomach churns as panic grips me.
Renaldo lifts my trembling hands into his.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead. Each breath is labored, and I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat.
I can’t do this.
My legs feel unsteady.
My anxiety peaks.
Merda! Just think of something!
The nausea in my stomach intensifies, becoming a relentless, churning turmoil. The heavy, knotted ball twists tighter and tighter.
My gaze shifts to Renaldo’s. When our eyes lock, all I see is indifference.
It’s sobering, and the fog in my mind clears.
A new resolve grips me.
I refuse to be chained to a man who doesn’t care for me.
God, our wedding night would be a nightmare, one that would be repeated over and over until I bear him an heir.
The thought of having sex with him brings on a fresh wave of nausea. My heart races, pounding erratically against my ribcage.
I can’t throw away my life like this.
It’s beyond last minute, more like last second.
But I make my decision.
