He’s begun to check in during the day, texting me to ask for updates, making sure I eat and take regular breaks to get some fresh air or stretch. It’s oddly nice.
Our wedding day comes quickly, and I find a box of white lingerie the morning of sitting on my bed with a note attached.
Wear these. -Asher
Delicate lace and silk straps with a matching garter belt and stockings that brush my thighs when I walk. Heat crawls up my neck as I slide the final piece into place, panties that barely qualify as coverage, more suggestion than protection.
He picked these. Chose every scrap of lace, knowing exactly what it would do to me.
Knowing I'd stand here, flushed and fidgeting, hyperaware of the fabric against my skin. That I'd think about his hands peeling it away later.
My reflection stares back, cheeks pink, pupils blown.
Nobody will know.
Just me.
And him.
The thought sends a thrill straight through my core.
"Miss Morgan?" A knock at the door. "We're ready for you."
The team descends like a swarm of very expensive bees. As my Maid of Honor, Kacey gets ready with me, receiving the full treatment from the team Asher hired.
My hair is curled and pinned into something elegant I'd never manage alone. Makeup brushed on with precision. "Stunning," the makeup artist murmurs, stepping back to admire her work.
And last comes the dress.
Ivory silk pools around my feet, the bodice hugging my ribs before flaring at the waist. Simple. Understated.
"There." She smooths the fabric over my hips. "Perfect."
I shift my weight, hyperconscious of the lace beneath. The stockings. The garter. But the dress hides everything. My pulse kicks up, heat blooming low in my belly.
The wedding planner checks on us, ensuring that we're on schedule and will be ready to leave in ten minutes. And then, before she can shut the door, Asher is there, filling the frame in his impeccable black suit, looking like sin.
"Out," he orders, not looking away from me.
"You can't be in here!" Kacey launches to her feet, hands on her hips. "It's bad luck to see the bride before?—"
"It's okay, Kace." My voice comes out steadier than I feel. "Really." And truthfully, I want to see him. I know he'll calm my nerves and give me orders that will prevent me from focusing on how this wedding is fake and I'm lying to my family.
Kacey narrows her eyes at Asher, then at me, before huffing her way toward the door. The makeup artist follows without argument, gathering her brushes and palettes.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Asher marches to me with measured steps, pulling two items from his jacket. First, he hands me a slim velvet box.
"Open it."
My fingers tremble as I lift the lid. Pearls catch the light, luminous and creamy white, strung in a perfect strand. The clasp gleams gold with a heart-shaped lock.
"A collar." His voice drops, intimate. "I want you to wear this today, Sugar. It locks on, and I'll always have the key. He holds up a dainty key that looks like one I had for my diary as a child.
My breath catches.
"Will you wear it?"
"Yes." The word slips out, barely a whisper.
