Chapter Two
Victoria Fletcher was mid-twirl,checking out the ribbons lacing up the back of her wedding dress, when they heard the crash from outside her suite.
Her sisters raced to the door ahead of her. Elspeth glanced quickly into the hallway and slammed the door shut again.
“Tori, you should go check your makeup in the bedroom,” her middle sister said, panic painted all over her perfectly done-up face.
She rolled her eyes and pushed past Elsie. “What the heck is going on?”
When she pulled the door open again, she found Logan rubbing his fist and Stephen flat out on the floor, and all the blood drained from her head. “What…”
She rushed to her fiancé’s side. “Oh my God, Stephen.”
He groaned and tried to sit up. Tried and failed. Her heart leapt into her throat. “Elspeth, call for a doctor!”
“He doesn’t need a doctor,” Logan said from behind her, his voice hard and cold.
God, Logan. She ignored him for a second and tried to focus on Stephen. “Are you okay?”
His only answer was a curse. Her mild-mannered fiancé never swore. He waved her off and slowly staggered to his feet. She rose with him, her concern for Stephen sliding quickly into outrage at Logan, who had clearly overreacted or something.
Her overprotective goon of a bestie had to wait another minute though. First she reassured herself that Stephen could stand without swaying—although his words were still not working, apparently. He just stood there, holding his jaw, and stared at the carpet.
“What happened?”
Stephen choked on something that sounded like a pitiful cough and gestured to Logan.
Tori whirled around. Her best friend’s face was drawn tight. She stared at him, unable to process what was going on. The silence stretched painfully as the distant sounds of the hotel provided a surreal soundtrack to the worst thing that could have happened on her wedding day. She couldn’t find the words to express how upset she was right now. She’d always suspected that Logan didn’t care for Stephen, but to punch him?
“Explain yourself,” she finally said, her voice shaking.
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t say anything.
“Logan!”
He looked past her. “Tell her why you don’t need a doctor,Steve.”
She turned again. If he had that little respect for her, fine. They’d have this out another time. She was shaking as she reached for Stephen. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hot tears pricking at her eyelids.
Instead of accepting a hug, he stepped back from her. His face—around the dark red bruise forming just below his cheekbone—was unnaturally pale. She took another step toward him and he shook his head. “No.”
What the hell was going on? “No, what?”
“Don’t make this harder.”
“What are you talking about?”
“He…he hit me because I came up to tell you I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“We need to call off the wedding.”
“What?” She laughed because that was preposterous. “Oh my God, do you have a concussion?”
He shook his head, then groaned. Maybe he really did. But when he spoke again, his words were even more clear. “I don’t love you, Victoria. I can’t marry you.”
Each word was a sharp, brilliant stab. Perfectly delivered in their clumsiness.He doesn’t love you.Her mouth ran dry and she shook her head. It wasn’t possible.He can’t marry you.It didn’t make any sense, even as it hurt. “You’re kidding.”
