Pan jolted awake with the feeling of falling. Tears sprung to her eyes at the torture of being torn from her dream of Dom. But voices paused her tears and had her listening with her ears. She listened as the voices grew louder distinguishing one in particular. Pan’s stomach clenched hearing Raphael. Pulling her knees to her chest, she whispered over and over, “Please go away, please go away…”
“She’s not ready yet,” she heard Brighton growl.
A loud thud slammed into the door and Pan jumped. Isla shrieked. The light under the door flickered.
“Raphael!” Danna yelled. “Don’t be stupid, its three newborns against you.”
“You’re not getting in,” Paul snarled.
Pan couldn’t make out anymore as it went quiet. She waited, scared he would barge in. After a few torturous moments, the door clicked open. Pan didn’t move as light fell over her in the pitch black.
“Still sleeping,” Brighton said.
Relief swept through her. She remained motionless, keeping her eyes closed.
“Are you alright?” Isla asked. “He completely launched you across the room.”
“Barely felt it,” Brighton said.
Paul snorted. “Right.”
The door closed.
+ Chapter 35 +
A Fashion of Passion
They tried to wake her the next afternoon, but Pan threw the temper tantrum of her life that would have made any Princess proud. Frightened by her rage, they reluctantly left her in her dark cage. Until they came knocking again.
“Pan, honey,” Danna said, rubbing her back. “You have to get up.”
“No, I don’t,” Pan bit out. “And if you don’t leave me alone! I’ll see Andre has you whipped when he arrives! We all know he hates you.”
“She makes a convincing case,” Danna said.
Brighton let out an aggravating breath. “That’s it,” he said. “Get out of bed now.”
Pan pulled the blankets over her head. “No, leave me to my grief.”
In a cold whoosh the blankets were yanked off. Pan curled in on herself, but Brighton grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the bed.
“Don’t,” she whined. She didn’t want to wake up and put on her recovering makeup.
But he hefted her up and swung her into his arms. Pan didn’t have the energy to fight, so she slumped against him. He carried her into the living room and set her on the couch where she glared around at them.
“Oh, give us a break Pan,” Danna implored. “We’re all really worried about you. You can’t sleep forever and you’ve haven’t eaten days.”
Pan looked at all her favorite foods they had laid out on the coffee table, including chocolate covered strawberries and white chocolate covered pretzels. The smell of it all set her belly to rumble.
“Thought so,” Brighton said. He fixed her a plate of everything.
Taking a bite, her stomach protested. It may have growled, but she had no appetite to show for it. Only taking small bites, Pan tried to ignore them as they watched her.
Uncomfortable, she asked, “What did Raphael want?”
They grimaced, glancing around at each other.
“So you heard?” Brighton asked.
Pan nodded, pushing the plate away.
“You,” Paul said darkly. He was leaning forward in the chair across from her, his elbows on his knees. “He wanted you. He’s ready to court.”
Pan gave a small sob, tears burning her eyes. She pressed the heels of her palms to them.
“Oh, Pan,” Danna said.
The seat next to her sank and arms were around her. Pan leaned into her.
“You really love him don’t you?” Paul asked.
Pan pulled from Danna and looked at him with agonized eyes. “As much as a diseased man loves his dying breath.”
Danna and Isla put her in a hot bath. After, she sat like a mindless zombie in front of the vanity mirror as they polished and primped every inch of her, talking and laughing like gossiping beauticians. Staring fascinated at her reflection, Pan hardly noticed. So despondent, she looked like a completely different being. Her usually spirited self was paler than her normal ivory with hollow vacant eyes pitted in a dead expression.
“I barely recognize my face,” Pan whispered, touching her cheek. Danna and Isla paused their grooming. Pan continued, unnoticed. “Maybe I should not look to see, but look to know the creature that made him love me.” She smiled weakly.
It was the whisperings of love lacking insanity. Was she so far gone in such a short time they had already begun? To survive this crushing damnation her heart needed to hide, but of her love for Dom she’d never say goodbye. Danna went back to brushing her hair and Pan closed her eyes. There was a knock in the other room.
“Oh no,” Isla said.
Pan looked around to see her peeking out the doors into the living area. Her stomach dropped hearing deaths chilling, creeping, voice.
“You can’t hide from him forever,” Danna said. “He is your betrothed now.”
Pan glared at her in the mirror. “I will never accept him.”
But she stood and headed out. Brighton and Paul stood between Raphael and her bedroom, their postures braced and threatening. When Raphael’s black eyes flickered to her, they looked over their shoulders. Pan nodded for them to stand down.
“Pandora,” Raphael greeted with an eager smile.
He held a lush boutique of red roses. Pan mentally rolled her eyes. It was so predictable it made her loath him even more.
“Raphael,” Pan said, walking up to him. “Why are you here?”
“You are my betrothed. I have come to court you. And to add to that note—”
Raphael set the roses aside and knelt, pulling a box from his pocket. He opened it and Pan nearly choked on the lump in her throat. A huge Cartier diamond ring glittered up at her. This was every girls dream, but Pan could only muster disdain for its gleam. Like any girl she loved diamonds, but canary was her absolute favorite. It was offensive that he knew absolutely nothing about her.
Taking the ring out, Raphael grabbed her hand. Pan yanked it back.
“Your hand I command,” he said in a gentle tone, but his eyes were hard.
He reached for her hand again and Pan let him take it. It was shaking.
“When I am your King,” Raphael said, sliding the ring on, “the heavens will sing.”
Kissing her hand, he stood. Pan stiffened as he bent and kissed her lips. Brighton and Paul growled. Pulling away, Raphael’s dark eyes flickered to them in low tolerance.
“Come along my love,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the door.
Pan looked around desperately at the others who followed.
“Where are we going?” she asked, looking up at Raphael.
There was a proud gloating smile on his face. “It’s a surprise.”
That was frightening coming from him.
Electric music pounded, celebrities littered the crowd, an epileptic’s worst nightmare of camera flashes dazzled the eye as twig legged models strutted the glowing catwalk with an avenging stomp. Pan and Raphael had a front row view to their hot mess of artificial ambition in this synthetic society. Pan joined them right along with it, her vanity making her attempt to appear in judgmental contempt, to appear normal when in fact, this, her, Raphael holding her clammy hand, was an abomination in disguise.
The last flowing dress going behind screen, they all clapped as designer Dante Pearl sauntered out taking his sweeping bow. It was a whirlwind as Raphael ushered her along to the after party. He led her around, displaying her like a trophy he had won in a game he hadn’t had the fun to play. Raphael was the poster boy for designer love, empty emotions, all one big fake notion.
They made no effort in socializing as people flocked to meet them. With two of the royal born, the allure was very strong, drawing them. Pan hated how Raphael stroked her back, detested how he talked of the wedding, getting admiring awws from girls he would probably hump on
ce he dropped her off later.
Pan floated through it in a vacant world of her own until a wave of clapping erupted, snapping her out of it. Making his entrance, Dante motioned with his hands for them to keep it down, smiling demurely. With his denim navy blue suit, white platform shoes and red polka dot bowtie, he reminded Pan of Pee-Wee Herman with platinum fluffy blond hair.
“Oh, dahling!” Dante said when he saw her, making his rounds. Holding Pan’s arms, he gave her an air hug and kissed both her cheeks. “When I zaw you in da audience I zay to myself, Dante you’ve just ‘ave to meet dat lovely creature, ya know?” His outlandish Swedish accent was very heavy. He pushed the bridge of his red framed glasses up. “After all we in Greece, dahling.” He chuckled as he looped his arm through hers, leading her away. “I mean where betta to find a muse dan Greece, hm. Come now, I want to zhow you off. Ay! Zilly me!” He giggled, covering his mouth. “I don’t even know your name!”
Pan looked back at Raphael. His dismay didn’t last long as girls swarmed him.
“Pandora Rose,” she said to her oblivious savior. “Though I highly doubt I qualify as a muse.”
“Oh, but you are! I zee my next show being…” A dreamy intense glaze came over his face as he looked at one of the flat screen TVs playing clips of his runway shows. “Fantasy, magical, A Midzummer Night’s Dweam. It zwill be fabulous!”
The next night transpired the same and inspired incidents equally lame. And despite the huge party being thrown at a breathtaking seaside villa, the location didn’t make the fawning, pawing, and cawing any more romantic. It all screamed one big hazard as brain cells and drunkards blended together like night and a blackbird. It was a sad looming disaster that had Pan wanting to leave all the faster.
That and a drunk Grecian hunk who had become infatuated with her, turning into a major punk. Raphael, being his oh so chivalrous self, shoved the man in the chest, snarling at him to back off. Isaac came lumbering through the crowd to do what he did best, intimidate, when the man stumbled and spilled his drink all down Pan’s chest.
Gasping, Pan flapped her hands as it ran cold down her breast. Danna and Isla grabbed napkins and tried to dab it up, but it did no good. And as if the red drink staining her ivory dress like a bib wasn’t the cherry topper on this early Sunday morning, Raphael went berserk, slamming the man to the ground.
“Stop him!” Isla yelled at Isaac, as the man screamed piercingly beneath Raphael.
Isaac grunted as if that act uninterested him. Pan looked around at all the people watching. Raphael’s stupidity and recklessness would reveal them all.
“Isaac,” she said.
He glanced at her then grabbed Raphael by the collar and yanked him off. Raphael went for the man again, but Isaac shoved him back.
“Go,” Isaac grumbled, pointing for him to walk.
Raphael glowered at him and headed for the door. Remembering her, he doubled back and grabbed her hand. Pan yanked it back.
“Can’t you control yourself?” she said in disgust then turned to Isaac. “Take me home.”
Isaac grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd, bulldozing people out of his way with his sheer mass.
In the limo, the tension was high as Raphael kept throwing her glares and the others looked between them with apprehension. Ignoring them all, Pan glowered out the window, her face a mask of anger. Scratch the surface and you would find fear. Pan was all too aware of her size, had always been teased about being so small and if a simple, but severely annoying, mishap of a drink being spilled set Raphael off, she had no confidence he would never hurt her.
Pan had no delusions to her second-hand attributes. She was a mouthy spoiled rotten brat who pushed buttons like a five year old in an elevator. That plus Raphael’s short temper was a deadly combination.
Back at the hotel, Raphael followed them up to the Penthouse. Not wanting to deal with him, Pan headed into her bedroom.
“Leave us for a while,” she heard him order the others.
Pan stomped back to the door. “Why?” she demanded.
“Because I have something for you that I wish to give in privacy.” His voice was clipped with struggled patience. “I know how much you love presents.”
He gave them a hard look. Panic hit her as they began to leave.
“Where are you going?” Pan asked, her voice pitching high.
Brighton looked away from her, shame faced. “Victor directed us to take orders from him.”
“Orders?” Pan said faintly, eyes wide.
“Certain…orders. To help you learn to like him.” Brighton grimaced.
Pan’s face fell. So that was Victor’s strategy, to force Raphael on her. Should she be surprised? He had already done it.
“So go,” she said, waving them to the door.
Paul reached for her. “Pan, don’t—”
Pan jerked away. “Dare touch me traitor?! Go! Leave me like everyone else, I expect nothing more!”
Guilt stricken, they departed. Raphael wore a smug smile.
Pan thrust her hand at him. “Give me my present and get out.”
“Try a little humility.”
“This coming from the most arrogant creature in existence.”
He chuckled. “True. Close your eyes.”
“Not a chance. Give it to me now.”
Raphael went to a dresser and pulled out a plum colored box with a silver ribbon. Crossing the room to, he held it out to her. Pan snatched it from him and ripped the ribbon off. She threw it at his face then yanked the lid off.
“Oh,” Pan said, a little taken back by the purple couture dress.
It was one of Dante Pearl’s she had commented about liking last night. She loved it actually, but nothing came from Raphael without expectations.
Pan looked up at him with cold eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Now leave.”
“Not so fast.” Raphael withdrew the dress from the box and held it up. It had already been hemmed for her short stature. “I would appreciate seeing my fiancée wearing a gift of my adoration. Put it on.”
Pan didn’t miss the order in his tone. “Isn’t the ring enough?” she demanded.
“No,” he said flatly. “Put it on.”
Glaring, Pan snatched it from him. Walking into the bedroom, she slammed the door closed. Draping the dress on the bed, she wanted to admire it, but now it was—tainted. Unzipping her dress, Pan jumped, looking around when the door opened and Raphael stepped in.
“Get out!” she yelled, clutching the dress to her scared.
“I’d rather see what I have to look forward to.”
Her cheeks burned red with humiliation. By the harshness of his face, she could tell fighting him would only make this worse. Turning her back on him, Pan closed her eyes and finished unzipping the dress with shaky hands. Tugging it off, she let it drop to the floor, standing in only her panties. Absolutely mortified, she quickly unzipped the other dress and pulled it over her head.
She turned to face him. “Happy now?”
Raphael looked her up and down, his gaze feverish.
“Extraordinary,” he breathed. He held out his hand. “Come to me.”
Pan didn’t move.
“Come,” he ordered, face hard again.
Hesitating, she then walked towards him, thinking if she just obeyed, the sooner he would leave. Raphael took her hand and tilted it so the diamond flashed in the light.
“You don’t know how much this pleases me,” he said then suddenly yanked her against him.
Pan put her hand on his chest, trying to push away. “Raphael.”
“I intend no harm,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers before she could protest.
Pan turned her face away. “No.”
She shoved against him, but it was useless, his arms like iron bans holding her captive. His hands roamed all over her body, his mouth kissing her everywhere.
Heart thundering in her chest, fearful sh
e wouldn’t be able to stop him, Pan yelled, “Raph-Raphael! I am not yet your bride!” He paused long enough for her to shove him away. She put all her might into it, but he didn’t even stumble. “How dare you touch me like that!” Pan pointed at the door. “Leave!”
“Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?!” Raphael yelled. “When it is just spring and not summers warm time, too soon it proves nothing of worth beauty, too late it withers in its prime! No Princess, you have hoarded your treasure long enough.”
“Get out!” Pan yelled, tears forming in her eyes. “Get out! Get out!” She shoved him towards the door.
“He better not have had you,” Raphael growled, grabbing her arm so hard she cried out. “Whether before or after our nuptials, I will have you. You and your virginity are mine.”
Sobbing, Pan yanked away, pushing him harder. She stumbled when he abruptly turned and left.
“Heartless creature, you hold not a humane feature!” Pan screamed as he strode to the door, slamming it shut behind him. “Demonic beast! You want my heart so take it,” she sobbed, “take it and feast! It’s all yours.” Pan collapsed on the floor, breathing hard, her tears spent. “I’ll cut it out for you. Wait and see, for together in flesh we will never be.”
+ Chapter 36 +
The Face of Saving Grace
“What is Victor thinking?” Brighton asked, the next morning.
“Raphael is a master deceiver,” Paul said darkly.
“But you’re his daughter,” Isla said, wearing her usual baffled look. “How can Victor be so cruel?”
“I’m only a tool,” Pan said, her head resting on Brighton’s shoulder.
She sighed, energy and impatience escaping her along with her breath.
Brighton took her hand and looked intensely into her eyes. “We won’t leave you alone with him again. I swear.”
Pan withdrew her hand from his. “Thanks, but your oath means shit.”
Brighton looked as if she had slapped him. Paul frowned and Isla’s eyes widened.
“Pan,” Danna began in defense. “We’re really sorry.”
“I’m aware, but you abandoned me. And at the moment that is unforgiveable.”
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