Lauren was frozen, the blood drained from her face, leaving it sheet-white as she remembered Frank's screams from the night before.
"ARE. WE. CLEAR?" The voice that whiplashed through the speaker on the phone was harsh and cold, the voice of a man who would be completely comfortable murdering her father, and then, her. A man who probably had plenty of random, untraceable burial sites already picked out.
"Yesss..." she hissed, trying not to let her voice waver.
"Yes, WHAT?" He was relentless.
"Um, yes, Thomas?"
"Very good." The next sound she heard was a click that signified her psychotic new fiancé was finished with her.
Numbly handing the phone back to Broken Nose Guy, Lauren kept her lavender eyes wide, trying desperately to not cry in front of this corporate thug. Slipping the phone back in his jacket pocket, he made an irritable grunt and produced a box, handing it to her.
"What's this?" she asked, holding it like the box might detonate at any moment.
"A new phone," he replied, "it will be better protected than yours. You are to use it for any calls related to the wedding or Mr. Williams."
Feeling her nose begin to run and wanting desperately to get away from this man before she cried, Lauren nodded rapidly and tried to close the door. His foot slid out and blocked her efforts.
"Miss Marsh," Broken Nose Guy's voice was firm, but not unkind, "it is in your best interests to make this event run smoothly. You are not helping yourself by trying to put up a fight. This will happen. I would suggest you keep your father alive to walk you down the aisle."
That did it. With tears literally springing from her eyes, Lauren nodded rapidly and shut the door.
She was given a full fifteen minutes to weep until her new phone began to ring. Angrily opening the box, Lauren found a shiny new silver iPhone 12 Pro Max, fully charged and buzzing insistently. Clearing her throat and hastily blowing her nose, she answered it.
"H-Hello?"
"Lauren! A pleasure to speak with you, dear! I'm Jessica, your wedding planner." The voice on the other end was warm, gracious, almost as if this was a normal, high-society union.
"Um, hello." Lauren ran a hand through her wildly disordered curls. "Nice to meet you."
There was a respectful silence at the other end of the line that told her this Jessica was quite aware that she was not at all happy to meet her, given the reality of what this would set in motion.
"Well!" Jessica said, "I'm sorry to throw you into the thick of things, but we have exactly twenty days to put everything in order, so-"
"Where am I getting married?" Lauren gave a wet sort of chuckle, trying to not laugh at the bizarre nature of the call with this relentlessly cheerful woman.
"Oh," the planner answered, "the Royal Opera House. The glass atrium is magnificent, I assure you."
"That's nice," Lauren said blankly. She listened obediently, making agreeing sort of noises every time Jessica paused and numbly promised to meet her at Brown's Bridal later that afternoon. For some reason, her first search on her laptop was the Royal Opera House. You could get married at the Royal Opera House? Apparently so, though her search told her they only hosted two weddings a year, and even though hers was set in a mere twenty days, Mr. and Mrs. Williams's would indeed be one of them. Starting to cry again, she automatically picked up her own phone, about to press the button to call Macie. Macie would make her laugh - she could talk her down from the completely fucked-up disaster that was now her life and - Lauren's thumb hovered. With a spear of ice running through her stomach, the girl realized she couldn't tell Macie. She couldn't tell anyone. How could she have her best friend as her maid of honor in a group of crime lords? Murderers? God knows what else? She couldn't endanger Macie that way. For the first time, Lauren realized she was utterly and completely on her own. No one was going to rescue her. No one could help her. And she started crying so hard she thought her heart would come out of her throat.
Nonetheless, she showed up at the elaborate bridal shop on time, shifting from foot to foot as the impeccably suited woman at the reception area stared at her. "Do you have an appointment, dear?" she asked in a saccharine tone that indicated she clearly thought the young blonde in the inexpensive sundress, in fact, did not.
"Carolyn." A cool voice Lauren recognize came from behind her, and a firm hand slipped into her elbow, pulling her along. "This is Miss Marsh. We have very little time, and Idohope you will be able to handle our requirements."
Automatically cringing at the dreaded word "requirement," Lauren obediently followed the short redhead who was already hauling her through the store's private dressing area. Finally turning to her, Jessica gave her a huge, red-lipsticked smile. "Hello, dear. I'm Jessica, you're Lauren and we have absolutely no time to waste. Now. Do you have any particular vision about how you'd like to look on your wedding day? Any certain style?"
There was something about the older woman's shrewd gaze that told Lauren the planner knew quite well what was going on. So, she numbly shook her head.
"All right!" Jessica said cheerfully. Turning to the cowering saleswoman, she briskly rattled off a list of designers. "Monique Lhuillier, some of the 2018 fall couture line. Vera Wang, spring 2016. Oh, and some of the gauzier versions from the Delphine Manivet Paris Fashion Week collection. Bypassing the assistant, the redhead took the alarmed Lauren's measurements herself. "Very nice..." she murmured approvingly, "I'm so tired of dressing skeletal society types. You've got a lovely, healthy figure. Some of the softer styles would drape so beautifully off that toned back of yours..."
Lauren tried to form her numb lips in the shape of a smile, but she mainly stood silent, allowing them to strip her to her underwear and haul her into various gowns like a mannequin. It was clear the assistant was beginning to be confused by her utter lack of enthusiasm, but finally, Jessica hauled the woman away, murmuring something about "Painfully shy... terribly uncomfortable..." as she sent the fitter out of the room. Turning around and looking at the dispirited blonde standing on the dais in the middle of the room, her expression softened.
"I imagine this is quite overwhelming to you, dear."
Pressing her full lips together, Lauren stared at her. There was nothing she could say. There was nothing to say.
The planner finally decided on an exquisite Delphine Manivet creation, simple lines and a beautiful, sweeping skirt. Turning Lauren this way and that, taking pictures and making notes in her iPad, she nodded. "It's perfect." Pausing to look at the blank expression on the blushing bride's face, she asked, "Would you like to offer an opinion, Lauren? Did you have a preference?"
