She throws up her hands. “Prince? Well, we’ll have him shipped over here, of course. I hate New York, wouldn’t dream of living in that shithole, so we’ll be in London full time. That’s when we’re not wintering in the Caribbean, that is. I’m not big on dogs but you know, he’s Max’s pride and joy so I suppose I’ll have to deal with the creature.”
The creature? I want to slap her face and would, but she’d probably beat me with her witch’s cane.
I slowly begin to slink out of the house feeling like the most worthless human being alive.
Natasha remains cheery and nauseatingly jolly, waving as I leave. But just as I reach the door, she calls after me, “Shame about your divine Mark Finn wedding dress – what a waste.”
I pretend I don’t hear. It’s as if she has sucked out all my energy with her painful words. I have no gumption, no force or ammunition left inside me to defend myself. There I was talking with Emma about women needing armor and I had none. I feel shamed. My head is slung low like a beaten dog, I pad out of the house, my misery trailing me like a murky shadow.
I am so crushed and weak that I decide to sit on a park bench by the square that faces her grand house to regroup my fragmented dignity. I get out my iPod and put on the first song I see – the Blues – Billie Holiday, Foolin’ Myself. How apt. I stay there for a good few minutes mulling over all the cruel but probably truthful things Natasha has told me, or rather, fired at me like a relentless machine gun. I agree with Billie Holiday, I am through with love and I’ll have nothing more to do with love. What’s the point ever opening myself up again? Even if I had gone through with the marriage in Vegas with Max, it would have, at some point, come to an abrupt end. Max is still in love with Natasha. As she said, I was just a ‘detour’. The ‘rebound’.
I think of my beautiful wedding gown, probably being worked on right now. Crystals being hand-sewn on the train, the exquisite silk smoothed and pressed, a myriad of tiny, feminine fingers working on all the details. I noticed Mark Finn had mostly women in his atelier, busy as dedicated bees, their keen eyes supervising every fine stitch, every delicate fold. What am I going to do about that dress, that work of art? The truth is it would be better off in a museum.
And just when I’m praying that there may have been some mistake, some misunderstanding, or that it could all be a fantasy on Natasha’s part, Reality slaps me in the face. I see the thing I’m dreading most in the world – Max approach Natasha’s front door.
I observe the scene, wishing I could look away but I am transfixed. He’s holding what looks like a gift-wrapped box. She opens the door, tosses her golden mane and throws her loving arms around his broad shoulders.
Then the glossy black door with its brass lion’s head shuts with a bang. I feel as if it has slammed right in my face.
It wasn’t Jenny who was my enemy. No.
It’s been Natasha all along.
END OF BOOK 2
To continue reading Book 3, My Knight Shining CLICK HERE
Did you love My Dark Knight? Then you should read My Knight Shining by Virgini Bellarica!
With a malevolent force determined to destroy Max's and Arielle's relationship, Arielle's priceless wedding gown hangs sad and lonely without its bride-to-be.Arielle has lost everything. Max. Her future. Her trust.Determined to pick up the pieces and mend her bleeding heart, she throws herself back into her career and is done with love forever. But Max will stop at nothing to win her back. Without Arielle, his life is worthless.The trouble is, someone is holding him and his dark secret hostage . . .
Also by Virgini Bellarica
The British Billionaire Series
My First Knight
My Dark Knight
My Knight Shining
My Dark Knight Page 22