“Don’t you dare bring up fucking Lucas at your own wedding,” she scolds me, and I instantly know that I have fucked up by even hinting at a man that should have been here today. Lucas. Our brother, and the bastard that killed our mum and dad, hoping that he would take control of their empire. Little did he know that the empire was always meant for me.
Lucas hurt both of us when he killed our parents, and then he tried to twist the knife in further by framing me for a drug deal gone wrong. Luckily, I had an alibi and Lucas didn’t cover his tracks very well, so his shit plans went up in smoke. Shame he isn’t burning in hell along with his shitty plans. He escaped and has clearly gotten better at planning because I can’t track the shady fucker down, but I will, one day. I will never give up looking for him because he deserves to pay for his sins, and I want to be the one that collects.
Two minutes.
“Have you been listening to a word I’ve been saying?” Zoey says, breaking me from my thoughts.
I stare at her blankly and she rolls her eyes at me.
“For goodness sake’s, brother.” She sighs. “I’ll be round tomorrow night at eight.”
“What for?” I ask.
“For dinner, duh.”
“You can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” she says, and my eyes flit to the clock to see that I have one minute before I can be out of here.
“Sorry, sis, gotta go,” I say and stand up, grabbing Kat’s hand and pulling her up from her seat. She looks shocked as I position her next to me, my arm around her waist, pulling her in close to my body. Dear God, she fits next to me like a glove.
“Nate,” Zoey says as she pouts and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Talk soon, sis,” I say with a smirk as I whisk my bride away and across the room to where Stefan is waiting by the door.
Kat doesn’t say a word as I take her outside and into the car waiting.
I shake hands with Stefan––who escorted us out––and then we’re off, down the driveway and heading in the direction of our home to start our new life together as man and wife.
Chapter Six
Kat
I don’t know what I’m feeling… well, I do, but I know that I shouldn’t be feeling anything for the bastard sat next to me. My husband. My fucking keeper––because that is what he is, and that is why he has me here. To keep me. To make me suffer, all in the name of a goddamn debt.
But just now, before we got into this car, he was different.
That kiss.
The genuine look in his eyes.
The way he made me feel something other than disgust… ugh, as I said, bastard.
I keep my eyes trained out of the window, not wanting to risk looking at him because I’m scared of what I might see.
I saw it back at the wedding reception… the slight hint of something other than hate.
I’ve never actually asked him if he hates me, I’ve just presumed that he does because there is no other reason for wanting to make me marry him against my will.
If we had met on different terms, then maybe things would have been different. I mean, there is no denying that he is handsome, sexy, and charm personified––and he bloody well knows it. His sea-green eyes, his perfectly chiselled jaw with slight stubble, his broad shoulders, his muscular physique and his perfect ass… I’m not blind and I can appreciate a handsome man, but what I can’t appreciate is this whole scenario.
If we had met in a bar, at a restaurant, in a goddamn club, then maybe things could have been different, but they’re not and here we are, both about to embark on a fake-ass marriage that will probably end up with us both being utterly miserable.
Great.
Adulting at its finest.
I watch as the scenery passes, people walking hand-in-hand, groups of youngsters hanging out, a few people on their own just walking and passing the time to get to where they need to go. And here I am, in a wedding dress, and I should be feeling like the happiest woman in the world, but I’m not.
