Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
The second lady came, and she brought stuff to do my hair and face. I watched rapt with appreciation while she washed, cut and styled my hair. She didn’t do a massive makeover, but I could definitely see the difference. The dark circles are still pretty visible but that is mostly because I am still sleeping like crap.
My nights are fretful and plagued with nightmares of what I endured and saw. Hell to be honest, I am still taking daily doses of Atarax, Zanaflex, and Zofran to help with the withdrawal symptoms. I have done daily telehealth visits with the doctor, and he assures me I am doing well. I mean I hear him but every time there is a loud noise it still makes me jump. Hell, the other day I was standing at the counter, reading and eating and listening to an audio book. I didn’t hear Larabee come up behind me. He touched my shoulder, not relaxing. I had those tiny ear things in, and I screamed so loud and jumped so far I hit my back on the counter. He was horrified. Not that I screamed but that he was the one to scare me. So, lots of work to be done. But I try not to dwell on that and take every day as it comes.
Like right now. Right now I am tying the Grecian style dress I picked from the rack of dresses around my neck. The bodice is tight fitting, a silver choker attached to the dress clinging to my neck. Underneath it is a cutout ‘V’ showing modest cleavage but given the size of these girls, it borders on overtly sexy. But none of this is why I picked the dress. No. I picked it because the back is bare. Yes, completely bare all the way down to right above the start of my ass. The stylist smiled and nodded before handing me a necklace that apparently goes in the back. He is going to lose his mind.
I decided to go without shoes because we are doing this sans anyone else but the stylist and the beauty consultant who are going to serve as our witnesses. Larabee said the less people who know the better. Knock. Knock. Turning toward the sound at the door I answer it.
“Come in,” I call out, wringing my hands no longer as confident in my choice of attire. I see the head of the stylist peek and when she sees me, her eyes light up.
“My how beautiful you look. How do you feel?” Smiling, I look down at my feet before looking back up.
“Nervous. Excited.” Horny. I don’t say that out loud.
“Well, you look exquisite, and your groom is out here pacing the floor. Are you ready?” Cheesing, I nod my head. “Excellent. Here.” She hands me two boxes. I take them also looking at the flowers she has in her hands, realizing they are going to be my bouquet.
Hands trembling, I open up the smaller box and my body begins to shake. I am looking at gorgeous pink diamond earrings. My hand shoots to my chest and words evade me. “He gave these to you to give to me?” I question her. I mean I know the answer, but that is all I can think to say.
“Yes. He was very insistent that you have it before you come out.” That sounds like him. Trembling with anticipation, I open up the bigger box and see a matching bracelet with an adornment for my hair that is perfect. “Here let me help you.” She grabs the bracelet and puts it on for me and then put the diamond clip in my hair pulling it back from my face. I don’t wear the necklace since I have the choker, but I will later when I change into my traveling dress. “There, you are all set.” I feel like a princess. “Shall we?” Nodding my head I follow her out of the room and toward the back deck overlooking the ocean, which is where we chose to have it.
My chest feels weirdly heavy but light at the same time while I walk toward him. My mind is zooming through questions, asinine, but valid. Like is he going to like my dress? Do I look pretty enough? Did I choose the right dress? My mind is so busy asking questions that I don’t realize where I am until I hear him.
“Holy hell. You are stunning, Piccola.” I look into his eyes and all of my nerves disappear. He is standing in front of me, wearing a black tux. His tie is white and cufflinks I can tell are diamonds and well. “Maravillosa,” he whispers before touching my back so he can escort me to the officiant. He stops and looks behind me. “Are you trying to kill me?” he whispers where only I can hear him.