I blinked back to the present and looked at Auna and Selena, who were still thoroughly involved in their conversation about my husband.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I murmured and started heading toward the main ballroom doors without waiting for their reply.
I suddenly had crushing pressure on my chest and picked up my pace.
I smiled and nodded as people tried to stop me, congratulated me and wished me well. I expected Nikolai or my father to try and stop me, to usher me back to the oppressing suffocation of being surrounded by all these people.
But no one stopped me. No one tried. And the closer I got to the double doors that led to the hotel hallway, the more that pressure kept growing. I felt hot, beads of perspiration dotting my temples.
When I finally made it through the open double doors and away from the sound and lights, the noise, I took a deep breath in and felt that dizziness that was circulating around me fade
I was walking down the hall and rounding the corner before I realized I made the trek, but I didn’t stop. My feet went over the plush carpet silently, my fingers tight around the lace of my dress. And when I rounded another corner that’s when I stopped and leaned back against the wall. I rested my head back and closed my eyes.
Just breathing.
The sounds of the wedding had faded so I barely heard anything, just the steady beat of my heart, the rush of blood through my veins as it filled my ears. And it stayed like that for several long minutes until a feminine sigh, a little moan broke my contentment.
I blinked my eyes open and lifted my head to look down the hallway where the noise had come from. Then I heard it again, that female sound that was clearly from pleasure. It was followed by a gruff male grunt. Then matching harsh breathing.
I was moving toward it before I knew what was happening. The door I stopped in front of was partially open, just a sliver of a crack allowing me to see into the darkened room. The window off to the side allowed blue-hued moonlight to filter in and show me to bodies pressed against a large couch.
“Are you going to give it to me all?”
I felt my heart race. I knew that voice.
“Come on. Just pull that dress up and let me.”
Edoardo.
This felt wrong, and not just because I was watching something very private.
“Oh Edoardo. I love you.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth to still the sound of my shocked gasp when I heard Francesca.
“I want you,” she whispered. There was the sound of clothes ruffling, a zipper being pulled down, and then Edoardo grunted, Faces gasped, and I took a step back.
“That’s it. Yeah, that’s it.”
And then the very distinct sound of them having sex filled my ears.
“I love you Edoardo. God I love you.”
I stumbled back, my heel getting caught on the end of my dress. My arms flung out as I tried to right myself, my back hitting the wall loud enough all sounds ceased. I should have hurried away but I was frozen in place when I heard hushed, frantic whispers.
And then the door was opening and Edoardo was coming out, gun in hand, eyes frantic and crazed. His gaze locked on me and his eyes seemed to darken before his eyebrows pulled down in a scowl.
“Go back to the party.”
I knew he wasn’t speaking to me even though his focus was trained on my face. A moment later Francesca was slipping past him, her body freezing as she caught sight of me, her eyes widening.
“Amara,” she said softly, this frantic look on her face as she looked between myself and Edoardo. She took a step toward me. “It’s not what you think. You can’t tell–”
“I said go back to the fucking party,” Edoardo snapped out and looked at Francesca with a deep scowl on his face.
I could see the way her throat moved as she swallowed, could practically feel her fear pouring off of her. This wasn’t just her hesitation and being afraid that I would tell anyone that her and Edoardo were having sex, something totally forbidden, a treasure you only gave your husband.
If this came out it would ruin her, destroy her family and their reputation. They’d be shunned, looked down upon, and all because of this one act. And it didn’t matter if she told me she’d been with anyone like she had all but implied at the dress fitting--like she’d all but bragged about it. Words were just that… words. Easily hidden. But this. This couldn't be hidden or brushed away if someone other than me found out. There were those who would love nothing more than to disgrace a family, to hurt someone above them.