Chapter 47
The wedding
Scarlett
Wilfred and my dad organized the wedding, which will be held on a private island in the Mediterranean. Five hundred people are in attendance. Most of them arrived with armed guards, gossiping about me marring Wilfried instead of Endo.
The women who planned the event seemed terrified to make a mistake. One of them sweated profusely every time we spoke, while I suppressed the urge to ask her if she had any medical conditions we could discuss.
Many times during our conversations, I remembered the failed attempt at the wedding plans between Fiada and me.
I asked for the limited things I remembered Fiada and I talking about.
The flower arrangements, for example. It’s a perfectly traditional wedding with beautiful flowers.
Smiling people expect my father to walk me down the aisle.
Nobody expects a bride wearing a mourning gown and a black veil.
I step out of the dressing room and walk toward my father, who’s waiting for me on the other side of the path. We should meet in the middle and walk toward Wilfred, who stands at the altar, along with the priest, who my dad or one of his guests blackmailed into presiding over my wedding.
The priest sweats as profusely as my wedding planner. If he overheats during the ceremony, I could escort him to the nearest hospital, where I could attend to him for the duration of his stay.
My dad looks nice in a tuxedo. The moment he sees me and realizes it is actually me under the black veil, his eyes widen and his face pales. Since he’s still in shock as I approach him, I hug him.
“Surprise, surprise,” I say.
“What are you wearing?” he hisses in my ear.
“A dress.”
“You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“I am. I mourn our relationship because this is the last time I want to see you. If I see you again, Daddy, you’ll wish you never had me.
” I step back. “I’ll make your death look like an accident and wear this dress at your funeral.
Now, don’t panic. Walk me down the aisle, be merry tonight, then get out of my life. ”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
He looks me up and down. “But the photographer is taking pictures. Look at what you—”
I interrupt. “Wilfred is waiting.”
My dad looks past my shoulder at my sister. I don’t know what he sees, but he shakes his head and offers me his elbow.
Charlotte lets out a soft bark.
I pat Daddy’s hand. “Good doggy.”
People rise, their shocked faces making me giddy inside.
If I’d known that being bad felt this good, I’d have done it sooner.
It’s thrilling. Exhilarating even. Too bad my rebellion is short-lived and childish for a grown woman who turned thirty-one a few nights ago.
Charlotte and I celebrated on this island.
We drank and fell into the bushes. I can’t remember what else we did, but I’m sure it was great.
Wilfred’s expression tells me nothing about what he thinks about my showing up to our wedding in a mourning gown. I hoped to make him doubt his intentions, but he doesn’t seem to care about my little protest. We’re getting married, after all. He wants ink on paper. He wants my dad’s wealth.
Daddy hands me over to Wilfred and goes to sit beside a woman who might be his mistress. She’s young enough to be my classmate, so I hope I’m wrong, but knowing my dad and what I saw at Massio’s mansion, I’ll just be happy if the mistress is here voluntarily.
Wilfred helps me up the steps. At my ear, he whispers, “You humiliated me.”
“It’s not about you.”
“That’s not what society will say.”
“For all they know, you approved of the dress.”
“They know I didn’t.”
“Even better,” slips past my filter.
Wilfred sneaks a hand behind my neck and squeezes. Painfully. I try to move away, but he holds me still so he can whisper in my ear and make it appear as if he’s sweet-talking to me, “I’m going to tie you up and fuck you till dawn tonight. You hear me, you stupid cunt?”
I swallow. He means it. He really does.
“You’re hurting me. Let go of me.” I try to pull away again, but he only tightens his hold. I think he wants to snap my neck. Can he get away with it?
“Begin,” he orders the priest, who steps toward us and wipes the sweat off his forehead. Wilfred keeps his hand on the back of my neck. His thumb digs into my skin. He’s cutting off my circulation, and I’m becoming dizzy.
“Dearly Beloved, we have gathered—”
A gunshot pierces the silence.
Blood spreads across the priest’s robe, and Wilfred’s hold loosens.
I scream along with everyone else.
Charlotte grabs my hand. “Run!”
Wilfred wobbles on his feet and falls toward the priest, who struggles to hold himself up. He catches Wilfred’s body under his armpits. There’s a hole in the back of Wilfred’s head.
People are running. My dad’s among them. I see him heading toward the exit. I can’t move.
I’m frozen in shock. Charlotte pulls me away, but before I run, I catch sight of a man walking down the aisle. He wears black on black and a sexy five o’clock shadow. His eyes are dark, darker than I’ve ever seen them, and he approaches the altar, a gun in each hand.
At least a hundred men are at his back. They let the attendees flee and now seem to be creating a living wall with their bodies. A man who looks like Endo joins him. He wears a matching tux.
When they reach us, the man, who must be Cass Macarley, hands my sister a red velvet box. Much of the bruising on his face has cleared up, but one of his eyelids hangs lower than the other. They treated him like a punching bag. I’m glad he appears to have recovered well.
Without a word, he stands behind Endo, who takes Wilfred’s body from the shocked priest. Endo dumps Wilfred to the side, steps over his legs, and simply says, “Continue with the ceremony.”
The priest, sweating like he’s about to walk into hell, says, “I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
“I wonder what you’d do if I hadn’t.”
“I’d have faked a heart attack.”
“It’s good to know you came with a plan.”
I clear my throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but what took you so long?”
Behind him, Cass chuckles.
“You look nice, Scar,” Endo says.
“Only you would think a bride in mourning looks nice.”
He shrugs. “I think you always look nice.”
See? This is my guy. He’s not wrong for me. He’s perfectly right.
“Hate to interrupt this awkward reunion,” Cass says in a deep tenor voice, “but we have about three minutes before a small army of armed locals runs in here eager to test out their new rifles. Can we hurry this along?”
Endo brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles one by one.
“Be mine, Scarlett.” Kiss. “I’ll spend the rest of my days making up for the mistakes I will make every day that you’re mine because I have no idea what the fuck to do with a woman like you.
I don’t know what to do with how I feel about you either.
You infuriate me. You gave up your future to save my brother’s life?
What kind of a woman does that? Hm? This, inside me,” he touches the middle of his chest with his fist, “is reserved for you.” Kiss.
“I had to come here and end this. I couldn’t let you marry this garbage.
But you must know. You must know that who I am is not up for debate.
It is not going to change. I have to tell you that I was born wild.
I would rather die than be tamed. If you want a tame man who’s going to grovel and beg you for attention, tell me now, and I swear I’ll leave you alone.
I swear on Cass I will let you go because, fuck, Scar, you’ve earned your freedom. From me and everyone else.” Kiss.
“I will secure your future and make sure you’re never touched by anyone unless you choose a decent, nice man.
I am not decent. I am not nice. But I am insanely and completely in love with you.
” Kiss. “I promise I will cherish you for who you are, and I will support you in any way I can. I think that should be enough. I think who I am should be enough. What say you?”
I hold his hand and kiss the skull-and-bones tattoo on his finger. “Who you are is perfect for me.”
“We only have a minute left,” my sister says. “I’m starting to freak out.”
The priest recites the wedding lines, and Endo slips a golden band on my finger and I slip one on his.
He lifts my veil and pauses before cupping my face.
His kiss is surprisingly gentle, a touch of lips, his dark eyes soft as they stare deep into mine.
I think they’re seeking confirmation that what he feels toward me is reciprocated.
A helicopter descends, and the wind from the rotors rips the veil off my head. My hair tumbles down.
Endo and I stare at each other, daring each other to say the three magic words first.
“Let’s go home,” he says.
Not those three words. The other three words. Someday, we’ll get to a place where we talk like normal people do. Or maybe we never will. Either way, I said yes to Endo Macarley and became his wife.