I pulled myself together. There had to be a logical explanation for it.
She doesn’t want you. It’s too much. She’s too young….
Dammit! Get a grip!
Someone moved up near the hotel staircase and I felt a surge of relief. Until I saw that it was Renée, and she wasn’t coming down with Sasha.
She’s going to tell you they’re running late. She’s lost a garter or something.
I sucked in a breath and raked my hand through my hair.
Calm down. Just fucking calm down!
She’d stopped at the end of the aisle, looking nervously around the people gathered there, then looked up at me. She fussed with the neckline of her pale-yellow bridesmaid’s dress. Agitated.
I was striding toward her without thinking about it. The expression on her face was not simply saying she had awkward news to share.
Something was wrong. Something bad.
“What?” I bit out beneath my breath as I reached her. Sasha’s mother was running down the stairs from the hotel toward us, too.
“She…she’s not there, Prince,” she said urgently. “I went to fetch my shoes from the car, and when I got back, the door was locked. I thought she needed a bit of time to herself, so I called through the door; told her I was getting more champers. Eventually, I got really worried. Housekeeping opened up so I could get in. And she was gone.”
“What?” I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. “Did she leave a note? Say where she might be going?” I pressed, though my questions seemed ridiculous.
She’s left. She can’t do it.
“No, you don’t understand!” Renée’s voice had raised in pitch. “There’s…there’s something you need to see.” She was glancing around. Fearful. “I think we need to call the cops!”
I didn’t bother listening to more. I was heading up over the grass at a sprint.
The bridal suite was on the first floor overlooking the gardens. My shoes thundered down the hallway as I made my way to it. I flung open the door and burst in. The air was still lush with the fragrance of her. Citrus. Floral. Feminine.
Around the room, things were strewn haphazardly. All the signs of a woman in various stages of dressing. A bathrobe over the back of a chair. Make-up scattered on the dressing table. I walked into the room and looked around uncertainly, half-expecting her to appear from the bathroom looking sheepish.
“Sasha?” I called out, though I knew it was fruitless. She wasn’t here. “Sweetness, are you in here?”
Dammit, you know she’s not here.
Renée had stepped into the doorway. I got the sense of others coming up behind her.
Other details were coming into sharp relief now. A bedside lamp on the floor. A table upturned. I walked farther into the room to the foot of the bed. Across it, a swathe of white satin was crumpled.
Her wedding dress.
The sinking feeling in my gut was growing deeper, turning into something dark and terrifying. I reached out a hand and pulled the dress toward me. Satin trimmed with lace. Pearls. Something that shimmered.
And blood.
I felt the color drain from my face and glanced up. More blood marred the mirror on the wall behind the bed where two words had been scrawled.
We’ll call.
I gathered the bloodied satin against my chest.
They’ve taken her!
I barely registered the impact as my knees hit the floor.
