“You too.” She smiles as she approaches me. “I have something for you.”
“Really?”
“Here.”
She unclasps her hand and holds a necklace up. It’s a thin silver chain with a pale blue stone at the end, dangling and flickering in the light.
My eyes widen. “Oh, wow.”
“For luck,” she says. “I wanted you to have it.”
I wish I could tell Willow I don’t need luck. I know Aiden will treat me well. He won’t do to me what Dmitri has done to her.
But it’s horrible to even think that. I can’t tell her. I’m in a good situation, a lucky one, and Willow is living through a nightmare.
So I just take the necklace, giving her a quick hug as I say, “Thank you. It’s beautiful. I’ll be sure to wear it.”
Willow smiles faintly as she pulls away. She steps toward the door, turning to look back at me once before she leaves.
Gazing at my reflection, I put on the necklace, watching the way the blue stone glints. It reminds me of Aiden’s eyes, and that thought makes me smile.
Weeks ago, I looked forward to this day with nothing but dread. But now, as I stare at the bright blue stone and think of my husband-to-be, a smile spreads across my face.
It’s almost time.
* * *
Aiden
There’s been an electric sort of feeling in my veins all day, some unfamiliar energy vibrating through me.
The feeling intensifies as I walk down the aisle and stand by my brothers, facing the doors to the church as I wait. The world narrows to that door, the ornate wood and the building around it. It’s all I can see.
I watch and wait. I almost don’t hear anything else, don’t see anyone else.
Then the door opens, and Rose is there, her blonde hair pulled away from her face, pinned into a knot near the base of her neck.
She chose the white dress.
She’s fucking stunning in it, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen. She looks like she’s floating down the aisle, the skirt silent behind her as she walks. Her gaze meets mine, and she doesn’t look away.
I still hate her father. That hasn’t changed. But as much as I hate him, I can’t hate her. It’s impossible.
I wanted her as vengeance on her father. I wanted this arrangement the way it is for the pain it would cause. I wanted it for all the worst reasons.
It’s more than that, now.
This is more real than I ever imagined it would be.
Our vows are traditional, Irish Catholic. The handfasting comes next, and it’s a blur that passes in the blink of an eye. I can’t look away from Rose the entire time. The fucking Pope could walk in, and I wouldn’t see him.
All my focus is on Rose.
My wife.
The only wife I will ever have, the woman I’ll spend the rest of my life with.
I almost can’t believe any of it is real.
