Chapter 1 Dirty Dreams

ROXANNE'S P.O.V.

It was the first quiet time I was getting in what seemed like two weeks. Since the wedding preparations reached a peak, I have had friends, cousins, relatives over, and even at this time of the night, we would be attending to one detail or another, fixing things and making sure everything would be perfect.

Now the wedding is tomorrow, and I am standing here, watching my dress, my heart feeling light. I could see everything spiral in front of me.

The first time Damien had asked me out. It was seven years ago, and we were both just starting college. I didn't take him seriously because then, I had just started fixing up on myself.

I had just taken off my braces and had lost the glasses and switched them for contacts. I was taking care of my skin, and I had shorter, better styled hair now. I was slowly growing into the woman I was now, and I didn't think someone who knew the chubby girl from high school would ever want me, even with the changes.

He apparently did, and the relationship that had started out as a joke, with me keeping my heart away so I don't get it broken in the long run, ended up being a seven year commitment. Through every problem. The times that felt like we couldn't go on anymore, the times that felt like we would never end up together. We somehow powered through it.

I turned to the wedding dress that was still resting on the mannequin. It was a custom dress, and I had asked for a fusion of colour at the bottom of the dress. It was a large ball gown that burnt into a deep purple towards the lower part. It was an absolute dream.

From my gown to my husband, I was convinced it was all I had ever dreamed of ever since I was a child.

I smiled to myself again, then started to walk to the violin that was propped up in a corner of the room. I had gotten a piece ready as a surprise for Damien tomorrow, and I intended to play it at the reception.

I slowly walked to the violin, then pulled it to me, resting it on my shoulder. My eyes closed, but right before I could get the very first note out, my phone started to ring.

I looked up to the dresser. It was probably Damien calling to check on me as he always did whenever we weren't together. I hadn't been expecting it today, however, as he and his guy friends had prepared a last night out to drink and play games at Damien's family country house.

I walked to the phone and slowly took it. It wasn't Damien. There was no caller ID, and it seemed to be a hidden number, too. My brows furrowed as I felt my heart skip a beat.

I have been a little anxious, but I knew it was customary of brides. Maybe I was being paranoid again. I shook my head and answered the call, then brought it to my ear.

"Hello?"

There was no answer for a long minute, and I was starting to contemplate dropping the call when the static cracked and a smooth female voice came through.

"Congratulations to you, bride."

I lightened up a little, even though I couldn't exactly pin the voice to a face.

"Thank you. Who am I speaking to, though?"

She gave a small laugh. "A well wisher, sweetie. Your husband seems to be having fun. I hope you are, too."

My brows furrowed. Damien hadn't mentioned there would be any women around their little getaway.

"How do you know he is having fun?"

There was a bit of silence before she started to laugh. I could hear loud music behind her and the unmistakable sound of a moaning woman. I could hear knocks on a door, and I felt my heart sink.

Who could this woman be? That place didn't sound like where Damien said he would be, mot even in the very least.

"Answer me," I said, my voice cracking a little, my chest heaving hard.

"Oh, sweetie. What was your question again?"

"How do you know my husband is having fun?" I asked again, my fingers shaking violently now, my chest heaving. "Where are you? Who are you?"

"One question at a time," she drawled, and I heard her slurp on something, probably a drink. "For your first question, oh, I know because the first girl he took from the back said so. I haven't confirmed it for myself, and for the sake of the sisterhood, I won't."

I felt my brain immediately shut down, and the violin I had cherished all my life left my hand, the sharp strings cutting the tips of my fingers as the violin fell to the floor and shattered into broken pieces, scattering around the room.

"Wh... what? What the fuck are you saying?"

"For your second question," she said, then laughed again. "I am simply a well wisher, and I am currently at Dirty Dreams. I trust you can find that on your map?"

Before I could say a word, the phone had gone off, leaving me standing there in the dim lights of my room, contemplating between trusting this strange woman and the first man I have ever loved.

I closed my eyes briefly, then started to call Damien. He didn't pick, and I kept calling and calling, till the tears could hardly let me see the phone screen.

I gave an exasperated scream as I flung the phone across the room, my chest heaving. I swallowed hard, then immediately turned to the dresser again.

My car keys were there, and I knew everyone would be asleep by now in anticipation of tomorrow. I bit down on my lips. I had to check. I wouldn't be able to rest until I know what this was all about.

If it was nothing but a prank call, good for me. But if it wasn't...

I shook my head. Damien can't do that to me now. He had said he loved me. He had said he loved the fact that I was waiting till we were officially married. He had sworn to wait, too. He had sworn all of that...

I tried hard to attain a bit of composure, then slowly snuck out of the house. Once I was in the clear, I took a few deep breaths to calm myself before I headed to the car.

Dirty Dreams. The map in my car showed me the exact location, and I swallowed again, watching the screen. What if Damien was really there? What if...

I tucked my hair back and turned on the ignition. If he was really there, I would want to know. That, I was completely sure of.

With new found resolution, I backed out of the garage and sped off, my eyes resting on the dark road in front of me.