Page 82 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

“I’ve got you.” Caleb settles his hand at the small of my back.

His touch, his reassurance, has become familiar. Maybe frighteningly so.

For what feels like too long already, I’ve slept beneath the same roof as these men. Gone to work from their penthouse. Returned to it at night. Watched them rearrange my life while insisting they are protecting it. And tonight I am going to marry them.

I angle my chin. I’ll do what I have to for my mother.

The private elevator opens almost immediately. Caleb guides me inside, then presses the button for the rooftop level. I stare at the changing numbers.

“You okay?”

“No.”

He doesn’t tell me everything will work out. He simply shifts closer. “I’ll do my best by you, Sophie.” He looks at me. “So will Lucian.”

But their version of what’s best for me doesn’t match my own.

When the doors open, Mrs. Henderson is waiting, a headset in one ear, wearing the focused expression of a woman managing a military operation in formalwear.

“There you are.” Her gaze runs over me once, efficiently checking whatever wedding planners check. “Perfect. We have about twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes.

My breaths are ragged, and my pulse is erratic as she leads us down a short corridor toward the private bridal suite adjoining the rooftop atrium.

Piper is already waiting inside.

Seeing her nearly undoes me. She crosses the room immediately and wraps both arms around me. For a second, I let myself lean into her.

Finally she pulls back enough to look at me. Her gaze searches mine. “You’re so freaking gorgeous.”

I appreciate her love and loyalty.

Caleb remains near the door, watching us. Mrs. Henderson murmurs something to him, and he gives a short nod before looking at me.

“I’ll be outside.”

As ridiculous as it seems, I’m sorry to see him go.

Mrs. Henderson checks her watch. “There’s someone who would like to see you before we begin.”

Before I can ask who, the lights near the far wall dim. A faint shimmer appears in the air.

My heart stops.

“Sweetheart.”

“Mom?”

As if by magic, her holographic image appears. She looks so real that I take a step toward her before stopping myself.

She smiles. And she looks much better than she had a few days ago. She’s still thin, still wearing a soft scarf. But there’s a hint of color in her face and life in her eyes. Maybe even some hope.

Everything inside me gives way at once. “Mom.”

“My beautiful girl.”

My throat closes. She studies me, taking in the dress, the veil, every detail she should have been here to see in person.