Abuela sniffles. Her and I are standing outside Church. For a second, I'm blinded by the paparazzi that flock outside the door to focus on her words. Abuela looks stunning in her dark blue dress that tailors to her frame perfectly.

"Don't cry now, Abuela. This was always bound to happen," I smile back, trying to calm her nerves down. The poor woman is more nervous than me.

"You look beautiful in that dress. I'm so glad you got a piece of your mother's dress sewn into it." The dress is modest for ceremony and chosen in mind with Catholicism. It's a tulle ball gown and the lace falls off the shoulders - a slight compromise. The train is gloriously long and embedded with crystals. I feel like every inch of a bride today.

I drly smile back at her. "I couldn't let Mama miss my big day, now could I?" Abuela's face morphs into the saddest expression ever.

"She's watching us right now," she whispers, squeezing my hand tightly. I whisper back that I know and I hope she's enjoying the show because Dimitri and I's relationship is something out of a telenovela. The doors swing open, the choir humming and the audience inside begin to stand as Abuela and I descend inside.

"Steady now, Abuela." I give her hand a firm squeeze, reminding her I'm always with her.

The ceremony is close and intimate with only our family and friends, whereas the reception later on will be a grand event. Although everyone stands, awestruck and softly as I slowly tour down the aisle, everything around me is mellow and golden. Dimitri stands at the end with Theodore as his bestman. He looks dapper in his three-piece navy suit and dark hair gelled away from his face. For a brief long unbinding second, it's only Dimitri and I. The world around is fuzzy and blurry as we lock eyes. Somewhere in a different reality, this is happening for real. This not pretend and we're both chained with tenderness.

Abuela walks me halfway and the rest, I'm walking down myself. Before departing to the pew, I kiss Abuela on the cheek. She wipes away a falling tear and sniffles before sitting down with more tears rolling down her face. I give her a soft smile laughing and begin walking alone. I stand a step down from Dimitri and he welcomes me with a soft lopsided grin.

My hand meets his - electrifying sparks searing into our skins. Dimitri's lips turn, a gentle affection glimmer that encompasses his blue eyes. "You look beautiful," he murmurs. Behind him, Theodore passes me a wink mouthing that I'm beyond perfection.

The audience sits down, Father Jonathan begins and it dawns on me that this is more real than ever. The ceremony progressed with us kneeling when directed, reciting prayers and crossing our hearts more times than we could count. We stood one last time, the final gospel was read and Father Johnathan joined my right hand with Dimitri's. His hands are so warm and soft, and they fit so perfectly into mine.

"Your vows, Isabella," Father Johnathan smiled. I face Dimitri, staring deeply into his eyes and begin to recite. This union between us may be fake, maybe for selfish reasons but these vows are the only real thing between us. I mean every last word. The sunlight is bathing him golden, his face is morphing into a gentle awe-struck beam and for a minute, I'm falling harder than expected. This man before me is going to be my pronounced husband in a matter of minutes.

Father Johnathan asks Dimitri to recite his vows. "I, Dimitrius Silas Asterio, take you Isabella Rosaline Romero, to be my wife. To have to and to hold from this day forward for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us apart, according to God's holy law; and this is my solemn vow to you."

The final blessing is read and Dimitri and I are locked in a staring contest. The severe acknowledgment that this is finally happening hitting us simultaneously. The last part of the ceremony - the kiss. Although I've kissed Dimitri a handful times, this is different. This kiss is entirely foreign and intimate. It marks the sealing of our vows, our union and our new life together.

"You may kiss your bride, Dimitrius."

My eyes close shut but the kiss doesn't come. Frowning slightly, I peek open my eyes and Dimitri's got a glint of uncertainty in his eyes. For his own encouragement and because the whole world has their eyes on us, I give him a gentle smile and nod.

I'm not sure what's going through that mind of his but for appearance sake it doesn't look good. A glimmer of affection passes over his eyes, and he takes a step forward. I'm holding my breath for the first time in forever. He flips the fabric over my head - barriers are shattering between us. His fingers cup my jaw gently and then his lips finally touch mine and he's kissing me back in front of the world to see. Unwillingly, I'm smiling against his lips. There are fireworks exploding inside of me.

Behind us, the audience in the pew erupt into applause and Anwar's loud obnoxious whistling is overpowering. We both stumble, highly intoxicated on happiness and euphorically a mess, out of Church as everyone congratulates us. Even Jeremiah wishes both of us good. He gives Dimitri's hand a firm shake, declares how he's a lucky man and watches both of us descend down the stairs. The minute we step out, hand in hand, the paparazzi are screaming. We take private photographs with all our family and a couple for magazines which we'll be on the front page for.

We elope into Dimitri's expensive sports car. Stop by his parents estate for a quick change of dress and we're off to our reception.

All I want to do is sit down, start indulging in the massive banquet that glimmers like gold in my eyes and declare it a night. Yet, Dimitri has other ideas. The air is cool, the sky is dark musky blue and strings of lightbulbs shine over us. Dimitri guides us to the middle of the dance floor, everyone parts their way and the music changes into a slower tempo.

He slightly pushes me back, holding onto my hand and yanks me forward. My body twirls, the dress flaring out as I roll back into his arms. The gesture earns cheers and affections from the audience and I won't lie, I'm grinning like a total idiot.

"So, Mrs Asterio, huh?" Dimitri teases drly, wrapping his arms around my waist as we find our own beat to the tempo of the music. My arms are snaked around his neck. Everything is slower, more vibrant, more vivacious. Everything is perfect tonight. Dimitri's dressed immaculately in a dark tuxedo that fits his form terribly well.

"Thats me. Isabella Romero-Asterio." the live orchestra behind us pulses on, the cadence slower than Beethovan. The new name sounds weird to my ears at first but the more I repeat it inside my mind, it dwells on me.

"You've been so wonderful these couple of months, you deserve a reward. Absolutely formidable, stunning and so patient as all the wedding details went into planning." he murmurs, against my ear. His hot breath makes me feel warm from the inside. It's a suffocating type of warmness, one that you need in the darkest winter night to stay mellow. It's a shame how fond you can grow to someone's voice.

"It takes two to tango. I'm just glad I was able to help you." I crinkle back barrenly. "Do you think everyone believes us? Do you think we've pulled it off? Our relationship and wedding happened quickly and the media attention is ceaseless."

Dimitri smirks at me, amused. "Yes, everything has finely formed together. Look at us Bella. A few months ago, I didn't think this was possible but the day has finally arrived. Just look at how close we're standing, how intimately we're whispering sweet nothings into each ear, how you're smiling in front of our large audience. This is all too perfect." I grow aware of how my arms are slung tight across his neck, how our chests are touching, how everyone is flocking around us as we dance.

"This is more than love. This is some sort of endless devotion for centuries to come." No words fall from my mouth. I just stare at him, hoping and praying this is exactly as it seems. I bury my face into the crook of his neck. He smells divine – hints of sandalwood and sweet lemon, a smell which I'm growing weak too.

I close my eyes, declare how good this all feels into his neck and let him sway me in time to the orchestra. When the darkness encompasses me completely, I already know this won't be a endless devotion for centuries to come, only a mere few months before the contract between us is over. Until then, I'm going to play the part well, do exactly as he says and hope the ring won't mark me for an entirely because I'm absolutely stupid for entering into this union.

"Ha, Abuela is crying her eyes out." Dimitri chips, frowning as he makes eye contact with her in the crowd.

"She thinks she's just lost her granddaughter. I'm gonna need to go over there and comfort her."

"Sounds like a plan and don't worry, I'm going to take good care of you." the promises sound so sweet from his mouth. Deep, deep down to our very core, both us know it's a matter of time before this falls apart.

____________

After the celebration, speeches, dancing and lots of wine. We've settled into a luxurious suite for the night, courtesy of Anwar. He's also gifted Dimitri a brand new car as part of his wedding present. We were both a laughing mess as we both stumbled in slightly intoxicated but Dimitri seemed to sober up quick once his phone was his possession. He's been in the bedroom for an hour replying back to emails on his own wedding day (the workaholic in him never left) as I'm growing increasingly frustrated with all the buttons on the back of my dress. Quinn had helped me change and done them up but alone I'm struggling to open them.

It's no use, my short arms will never cover the buttons. "Bells, I just wanted to remind you that tomorrow we've got breakfast with my family and dinner with Anwar and Aisha in the evening." He stumbles into the bathroom. His eyes meet mine in the mirror and he frowns at me, his eyebrows denting. "Why are you still in your dress?"

"I could say the same to you," I retort back, noticing he's only discarded his bow tie and blazer.

"I was answering emails, what's your excuse?"

"I can't reach the buttons on the back of my dress," his eyes drift down, he gives me a curt laugh amused at my helpless state and steps forward beginning to undo the buttons.

"Sucks to be you," he states. His hands touch my back as he reaches down into the curve, straining to do the last few. "There we go," he grins triumphantly.

I thank him, wanting to get out of the dress but his presence looms over. We simply stare at each other in the mirror but Dimitri's got a smirk on his lips. Without saying anything, he steps forward, pulling all my hair to one side and plants a small kiss on my bare shoulder. The warmth encompasses every inch of my body, even the tiniest holes that I've jammed close with lots of glue and wine. I find myself smiling up at him as he gazes down at me with his blue eyes dark and stormy.

Then without noticing, my back arches into the marble of the sink and Dimitri's got me trapped on either side. "You're beautiful," he repeats, again and again, kisses trailing up and neck behind my ear. Tiny buzzing of acknowledgement and urge clouds both of us, yet it's not a hurried frenzy. Both of us know we're about to go and neither of us care about the consequences.

My hands reach over for the straps and I let it drop. It falls into a pile of silk and white on the marble flooring. His hooded eyes trace over every inch in appreciation, lingering dangerously slowly over the curves of my body.

His hands begin to wrap into the dark brown of my hair, he pulls gently but quickly causing my scalp to prick against his touch. My face meets his - our lips merely inches apart. "This doesn't mean anything." he raps, dangerously low. His lips ghost over mine. His cold hands trailing over my bare back, slow deliberate movements up and down. He's waiting for me to respond, a firm declaration, measuring if this means anything more than it does.

"Yes, nothing at all." I affirm. He's satisfied with the response. His lips touch mine for a brief second before he pulls back again. It's not fair. I've only just started melting underneath him - his touch so sweet, so warm, so addicting. He tastes like caramel and honey, awfully sweet, awfully rotting to my interiors. It's such a shame, he's the cloying sticky golden hallucinogen and I may as well be declared a recovering drug addict.

"So no strings, no cords, most importantly no feelings." he asks again. His words a slow heated murmur of promised profanity.

"Yes, you're absolutely right." My hands move for his buttons, popping each one open slowly. He's growing more impatient than me.

"We're pretending," he inquires, his tenor drifting, swaying back and forth on the edge of uncertainty. I agree, pushing his shirt off. Fuck. Too slow, too tortuous, too much clothing. Everything needs to come off now.

"Yes. This is all fake," I state back breathless. His shirt is a pile of white on the floor. He's content with all the lies between us, all the white fabrication binding us as his lips find mine again. His smooth large hands navigating my waist, our kiss morphing into a sloppy, hurried frenzy.

I can't tell if it's the aftermath of the wine or him. Regardless, this is a sickening sweet devotion and neither of us care. We only have one motive on our minds and tonight we're blurring the lines between us. His hands wrap around the back of my thighs before he's carrying us to the threshold of the bedroom. The kiss unbroken between us. Damn, we've kissed a lot today and each time feels so different from the last.

This one is more hungry, more deliberate and filled with purpose.

He's not exactly rushing this, nor is he acting hasty. He's taking his sweet time because maybe tonight is all we have. Maybe tonight is the only time we can lose ourselves completely. Before the sun rises over London and reality crashes into us again. We may be bounded by union, vows and wedlock but we don't belong to each other.

Both of us are desperately aware of it, that's why this moment is special. Seconds descend rapidly into minutes. Time is such a devastating illusion - so fast, so sluggish, so leisurely. Time is such a miserable thing - very torpid and hazardous to little moments. It's easy to lose yourself in seconds and tiny moments.

He moans, calls out my name in desperate grunts that rumble from the back of his throat and repeatedly whispers how beautiful I am. Right now all that exists is Dimitri and I in this saccharine embrace underneath the soft light of the bedroom. Everything else is hazy, burning, we don't give a damn for it. We are utterly invested and for a moment, this is how it should've been from the beginning but under better circumstances. Under the vow of love and not selfish desires.

The silk and rose petals beneath me are velvet and I'm melting ice in Dimitri's embrace. His strong arms are twine around my tiny waist, they mould perfectly into the arch of my back. His bare chest against the swell of my breasts, his lips hot on mine, his legs knees planted on either sides, my nails digging into his back. Everything is an illusion of sugar-coated euphoria. Pretending shouldn't feel this good but it does. That's the terrible part about us. My lingerie and his pants are somewhere on the floor but I'm too busy unfurling to care.

We're having fun. We're enjoying this. The aftermath and tangled wires will be our wake up call.

He pulls back, breathing out of sync. His blue eyes are darker than I last remember yet they sparkle underneath the light. So fucking devastating.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He inquires, his voice drifting off. He was a rush of tipsy laughter earlier but right now he's completely sober, but me? I'm drunk off him. Drunk of the feeling that grows in my chest which only he brings. Drunk off the softness of his skin against mine.

I cup his face, run my thumb over his silken lips. "Yes, yes, yes." I murmur, pulling him back again. He registers the answer abandoning all former feelings of doubt. Strong, rough fingers decorated with a metal ring thread into the draw beside him. The condom packet lies between his teeth as he tears it open and gears himself.

We lock eyes as he slowly meets me at the centre and fills to the hilt. My eyes are already rolling back with the surge of pleasure. He slowly rocks his hips into me, his face buried into the crook of my neck. He bites, sucks, kisses. My fingers fist into his hair, pulling against his scalp. Hot, breathless moans, low grunts of pleasure. Steady movements - slow, measured, deliberate. Both of us naked expect for our rings.

Both of us gripped desperately onto each other. Hot and heavy, throbbing and thrusting. Swollen purling spilling past my lips in sync with his hips - the way his body moulds into mine, the way he feels beneath me and how's simultaneously tender and aggressive. The heat and insanity is overbearing, overwhelming, just how good he's able to explore the depths of me and cave in with the repeated use of my name. This is somewhere between heaven and insanity. Hell, I can't tell.

He lifts me up, cradling, rocking my body against him, the petals are gathered between his palms too. They fall petal by petal onto the white sheets. He's controlling the motion, the pace, the intensity. It rests with him and I'm simply reacting.

My fingers dent on either side of his mouth, my tongue exploring the depth of him as the intensity beneath me builds and becomes overwhelming. I'm moaning helplessly into his mouth, his grip tightens. He gruffly groans against my pulse, my name a tender imploration to his. The room is bright and exquisite, filled with our forename and rocking. The mattress is dipping, I'm falling. The bed is lurching, I'm filling. The headboard is clanging again and again and again into the wall with his swaying. Fuck – I'm toppling headless over the edge.

"Ah, Dimitri!"

Fortification of a breathless gunt escapes his lips. "Yes, yes, yes. Fuck. Bella!"

He meets me all the way, the pressure ceasing to end. He bites roughly into my shoulder before an erratic quake erupts at the centre and he's straining. Hot white sears deep inside, flushed and ecstasy pausing my functional brain for a second. He collapses over me, loose and his skin slicked with beads of sweat. His face is flushed bright red, just a second ago his mouth was parted with the moaning of my name. The image is forever framed in my mind.

We're both an adherent, rose-covered, panting mess. The silent room is only filled with our panting. We don't say anything as he finds his strength again and begins to walk to the edge of the room in search of a trash can. The humid silence is our acceptance of what has happened but neither us are willing to talk about it.

Taking the hint, I slowly roll off the bed and my footsteps edge into the bathroom. I pee and wash my face with cold water. Crumbles of roses are fused to my skin, some petals stick and I carefully remove each one. I stare at my face in the mirror. My skin is more flushed, my neck is growing red from his touch and I feel different.