“I wasn’t sure—I suspected it. But I thought it wasn’t my problem, and as long as I wasn’t certain, I didn’t want to stir up trouble.” I exhale in relief, because it would’ve really pissed me off and hurt if one of my closest friends had kept something like that from me.
“That’s why he’s so messed up and keeps getting wasted,” Cedric murmurs, and yeah, that makes sense now. Damien lost his great love—my brother. It’s no wonder he’s completely thrown off. But I can’t focus on that now.
Today I’m getting married.
Damn, and I’m getting nervous after all.
“We’ll keep an eye on him and take it from there. He’ll have to show up today, if only for his parents. Maybe I can catch him later at the private celebrations.”
They both nod, and shortly after, I’m alone because Cedric has to get his suit and Eric goes back to his post.
And I get ready to officially take on my brother’s legacy.
Two hours later,I’m standing in the Bellington Chapel, pissed off and annoyed, and all I want to do is get the hell out of here.
My father is being his most disgusting self and has already threatened me four times to “get things sorted” with my wife, or he’ll do it himself. Which is ever going to happen over my dead body.
Then I got a lecture about how great my inheritance is and how important it is that I take everything seriously. In other words, he more or less subtly let me know that he thinks I’m completely incompetent and unfit.
And when he then started explaining how I should deal with my wife from now on, I bolted.
Now I’m standing on the gallery, taking a solid swig of whiskey from a flask.
Cedric and Damien are next to me, both staring down at the parade of high-society idiots and aristocrats filing into the church.
“What a catwalk of arrogance and conceit,” Damien mutters, and I have to agree. That’s exactly what this is. See and be seen. Everyone wants a piece of the pie.
“Well, it’s the event of the year. The most eligible bachelor is off the market—which will break a few hearts. Especially Miss Wilshire. Look at her, she’s in mourning,” Cedric sneers, nodding downward to where Sarah is indeed making her entrance in a black gown. She scans the crowd arrogantly and finally takes a seat in one of the front pews.
And I wonder what I ever saw in her. Because after last night, I know what truly good sex feels like.
The sound of the bells snaps me out of my thoughts. My boys square their shoulders and both give me a pat on the back.
“What could possibly go wrong?” Damien says, and I nod, grateful that he’s here.
Ced gives me a quick hug, and then both of them head downstairs to take their seats.
I stay for a moment, take a deep breath, and try to calm my racing heart before making my way down as well.
Showtime.
When I open my eyes, I already know I’m alone. I don’t even have to turn my head to feel it, and for a moment, there’s a tug in my chest. But only for a moment, because I’m old enough to know that Nicolas and I still have a long way to go, and sex doesn’t automatically make us a couple.
Strangely enough, I still feel a bit calmer, a little more at ease, even though we've only just begun to touch on everything that needs to be said.
He wants to get to know me. He wants a date, which is honestly kind of hilarious, considering we’re getting married in a church in less than three hours.
A giggle bubbles up in my throat, even though after everything that happened yesterday, I should probably be terrified. But something about last night with Nicolas left me feeling a little more confident, even if that’s probably foolish and naive of me.
I shouldn’t feel butterflies in my stomach when he looks at me. My heart shouldn’t skip a beat when he touches me. I shouldn’t feel relieved that he didn’t sleep with Sarah.
And yet, I do. All of it. Fully aware that I’m being foolish. That this could destroy me completely.
The press has it out for me—or maybe I should just say Richardson. Technically, he’s the only one after me, because he knows I could be a threat. I’m fully aware of that. And yet, in just a few hours, I’ll be officially marrying the new heir to the throne.
Fear, panic, and rage. I push it all into a mental drawer, close it tightly, and lock it.
Because I can do this. I’m strong. I’m not weak.
