Ten minutes later, I’m staring at my reflection, the dress completely different from before.
The bow at the top of my ass is gone, thank God. My hair is curled and flows over my shoulders. I didn’t want to wear it up today. I like having it down.
My makeup is flawless, showing off my eyes and lips. The artist managed a precise eyeliner wing, which is something I’ve never been able to master. My breasts are high and perfect in the dress, and it’s even cinched at the waist, then molds around my hips, showing off my figure just right.
I feel like a movie star from the 1950s or something.
“You’re a freakingbombshell,” Lulu says with a wide smile. “Holy shit, you’re beautiful, Natasha.”
“I actually feel beautiful.”
For the first time in my life.
Too bad it’s also on theworstday of my life.
Taking a deep breath, I turn to Lulu and offer her my hand. I don’t like to be touched, but I feel safe with her.
She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.
“Thank you. So much.”
“You’re welcome. I know this isn’t what you want, but I just need you to know that I’m your friend, and if you ever need anything, all you have to do is call me. I’ll make sure you have my number before we leave today.”
“Thank you.” Giving her one more squeeze, I pull away, and she steps out of the room ahead of me.
Rome is waiting for her, takes his knife from her and slips it in his pocket before wrapping his arm around her waist.
“You’re a lovely bride,” he says to me with a soft smile.
He’s such a big, scary man, but his smile is kind.
“Thanks,” I murmur and drop my gaze.
“Your father isn’t walking you down the aisle?” Rome asks me.
“No. I’m fine.”
After a silent moment, Lulu and Rome walk into the sanctuary to take their seats, and I follow. Music starts, and of course it’s a song that I hate. I wouldn’t have chosen it. I’m holding flowers that were waiting for me in the room.
A bouquet of funeral lilies.
Appropriate, I guess.
I can’t look up as I walk down the aisle. I don’t want to see Elliott and his mean face. I don’t want to see my parents. I don’t want to be here.
I don’t want to be here.
Swallowing hard, I try to keep my panic at bay, and when I reach the front of the church, I take my place next to black dress shoes.
But then I take a breath, and I don’t smell Elliott at all.
I smellcedarwood. With a touch of leather.
I smellJulian.
My gaze travels up the tall, broad body before me, and I’m stunned to findJulianstanding before me in a black suit, looking so unbearably handsome, and his lips twitch at the corners as he holds my gaze and reaches for my hand.
I’m too surprised to pull away or flinch at the warmth of his hand.
