Our hands fell. “Bunnies?”
“The women that come ‘round the clubhouse, some live there.”
Bunnies. “I see.”
“So, want to tell me what that was about back there?”
Crossing my arms, I answered, “Well you certainly transition quickly.” His brows furrowed over those icy blue eyes so I continued. “I found out secondhand that our wedding is tomorrow.”
He simply nodded. It took all my strength to not roll my eyes.
“Are you opposed to marrying me?” he asked, his stance a little too relaxed and a little too sure of himself.
“It’s my duty and I knew this day would come. I just assumed I’d be given more warning than twelve hours.”
“Well, it’s not like this is a match made in heaven, so may as well get it over with.”
How romantic. “I suppose you’re correct.”
“Shall we? I’ll introduce you to Jackal so you can apologize for dropping his bike,” he joked, sticking his arm out. I took it, fighting an eyeroll, but as I started to lead him to the dining room, he pulled me. “Watch for the glass.”
At least he was concerned about my feet. As we walked to the dining room, I tried to not fidget. Being so close to him was difficult. He smelled amazing. Almost earthy or woodsy, but a hint of citrus lingered. It was mostly warm, but also fresh.
His biceps were quite large, his shirt hugging it as his arm bent to cradle mine. And while I was technically showing him the way, he was still somehow leading me. He had the presence of a man in charge, and as much as I didn’t want to likeit, the way he wore it drew me closer to his side.
It was odd, though, my hand touching the slight bit of forearm that peeked from his rolled up sleeves, knowing that while just walking arm and arm with him for the first time now, apparently tomorrow I’d be doing my wifely duties with him. And as much as I should be appalled at the idea, I couldn’t decide if it would be so bad to take him to bed.
Chapter 10
Katarina
Dinner was tense last night. Lucky for me, afterwards Papa and Niko whisked the men off for manly talk, drinking, and smoking. I spent a while showing the ladies around the grounds, but eventually was able to retire to my room.
After a lengthy discussion with Klara while packing, I logged into the schedule to move things around so she could be with me today. The talk helped. I felt as good as I could, considering the circumstances.
I’d woken up to light knocking on my door for the tailoring of a dress I didn’t pick, and to choose from six different pairs of shoes. While they finished up a few details on the veil, Imanaged to sneak in a light breakfast in the kitchen.
Klara arrived not long after, and the rest of the afternoon was a bit of a blur. I was getting married today. I’d be leaving this place soon, for good. But for some reason, instead of the sadness I expected, I was numb. The day was a whole out of body experience.
The women that came with the bikers met Klara, and we did a ladies afternoon tea, then we all were taken to the beautiful Catholic Church that we visited on the major holidays. We got our hair and makeup done by the stylists Papa brought in. They all had lovely dresses as guests, but Penny was fitted for the only bridesmaid dress. After meeting Klara, she eagerly gave up the dress, and the role.
I was appreciative, but I didn’t think I showed enough gratitude. Everything was just a blur and I was only able to maintain basic niceties and manners. Penny didn’t seem offended, though. If anything, she seemed relieved. And luckily, they wore the same size.
“Here, hon,” Mama Hen said as she passed me a sweet almond croissant and a glass of champagne. “You hardly ate, but this’ll take the edge off.”
Taking the pastry and glass, I nodded and took a bite. “Delicious.” The champagne paired well with the flavors. I wanted to knock it back but took small sips, nibbling the croissant in between.
“I love your dress,” Mama Hen said.
Looking at the sleek, white dress with fine details, I shrugged. “I suppose it’s nice.”
“That wasn’t very enthusiastic,” she replied.
My mouth fell open. “My apologies. The champagne must already be getting to me. It’s lovely. Just not the style I would have chosen.”
Her brows pinched. “I see. And the colors?”
I looked at the dress that Klara was modeling. The single bridesmaids dress was different from the others, but they all were a deep shade of red, like an aged Malbec. I personally preferred blues, grey, and even black. Not that black would be appropriate for a wedding. “It’s pretty.”
