Hope

I stood in the private dressing room, staring at myself in the mirror with mounting frustration. The cloud-like wedding dress was gone, replaced by a comfortable cream-colored cashmere sweater and dark jeans that fit me perfectly. Even my makeup had been touched up, the mascara smudges carefully removed. Mario had orchestrated the entire transformation, chattering about travel comfort and appropriate attire while expertly changing her outfit. Which meant Giovanni had planned this beforehand. "Sly bastard," I muttered under my breath, tugging at the sweater's hem. I didn't even know where we were going. Just that it was "another country" according to the vague information I’d managed to extract from Claire. When I emerged from the dressing room, I found Giovanni standing near the hotel's private exit, deep in conversation with several of his men. I stood there, watching him, and feeling utterly powerless. He had removed his jacket but still wore his dress shirt and pants from