Chapter 20 – Amanda
Carole’s squeal broke from across the room. “Archy’s landed and is in the car!”
There was a flutter of excitement from the cluster of girls in the room. A pair clinked their flutes, and someone laughed too loudly. I had to hold my fingers in my lap to keep from rubbing my temples and ruining the hours of hard work the makeup artist put into my face.
Dad was going to be here after all.
I almost texted Nicole, but I resisted the urge. She would make some kind of comment. Plus…I didn’t want her to know I was betting money that he wouldn’t show.
Business came first.
This isn’t business?
I winced.
“Sorry! Did I pull your hair?” Bill asked where he was fidgeting with the veil behind me. The man was the perfect wedding planner. Charming and suave.
The photographer chose that moment to snap a picture.
“I’m good!” My voice sounded high and unnatural.
“Let’s see,” Carole crowed, rushing over in a cloud of Chanel. That perfume didn’t bother her dog…go figure. “Oh, my darling girl, such a beautiful bride. Isn’t my daughter the most beautiful bride you’ve ever seen?”
Every eye in the room turned to me. My fingers dug into my thigh to keep the smile on my face intact. The chorus of oohs and aahs rang sharply in my ears. The volume muted. Black spots crackled in my field of vision.
Was this level of anxiety natural for a bride on her wedding day? I should have listened when the girls were passing out Xanax earlier. But I’d been good. I hadn’t had any booze from the brunch spread that was set out in the area designated for the bridal party.
Rising on shaking feet, I posed with the girls, with Carole, and even with Bill as the photographer and her two assistants staged shots.
When it was finally over, I went to my pile of things and pulled my phone from my clutch. It was just after one o’clock, and there still wasn’t a text from Steven.
Surely our parting kiss wasn’t that bad?
The trickle of anxiety threatened to turn into a full blown panic attack.
I shut the phone off, pressed my eyes shut tight, and forced my lungs to do box breathing.
Most grooms would have messaged. Despite his flaws, Steven was a good boyfriend.
There wasn’t a morning that passed in the last six months when he hadn’t sent me a good morning text.
Why hadn’t he messaged me?
This wedding has to happen.
“Knock-knock, can I enter?” a smooth baritone asked through the door.
Carole squeaked and rushed to throw the door open. She even set her puffball down to give her husband a two-armed hug, squashing her tits between them.
It took every drop of strength I had to pull myself together.
Dad was not going to see me freaking out.
He was going to smile. He was going to offer me his arm and walk me down the aisle in less than thirty minutes.
I might not be able to tell him I landed the coveted senior partnership at only twenty-eight years old, but I would be damned if he didn’t see me marry British nobility today.
“There she is.” Green-blue eyes, sharp and calculating, pinned me with a look I couldn’t read.
“Hi, Daddy!” I crossed the room and met him halfway as he hugged me.
In the background, the camera snapped away.
The pictures wouldn’t tell the powerful story of a ruthless lawyer, who’d made hundreds of millions in his chosen profession, and the daughter who spent every waking minute following in his footsteps.
They would show a man with light brown hair, hugging his eldest child on the bittersweet day of her wedding.
“Your grandma would have approved,” he said softly, speaking only to me, as he brushed his fingers along the lace neckline of the dress. “I can’t believe we kept this.”
Tears rose unbidden to my eyes.
In the whole chaos of wedding planning, I was grateful I remembered to look for this dress.
While I was taller than Grandma Loring, the dress had to be taken in to fit my slimmer frame.
Otherwise, the vintage ivory satin was a beautiful gesture—one which my father approved of. That made it worth everything.
“Thanks, Dad,” I breathed, offering him the first real smile I’d felt all day.
“Alright, alright, don’t schmozsh her makeup,” Carole cackled. “We’ll have to freshen it up after the ceremony. I’ll have the artist on the cruise so it will be fresh before dinner too!”
Delighted at the prospect of her dream wedding that included a sunset cruise on the ocean before a lavish dinner, Carole came to stand by my side as the photographer began the dance once more. We posed. We smiled. We staged several shots. And then Bill was ordering everyone into position.
As we filed out of the bridal room and took our places in the hall, ready to march onto the lawn, some of the staff poked their heads out to see us off.
The Harbor View Hotel was enchanting as far as venues went.
We would eat in the grand salon, where they were preparing the reception. I thanked the workers as we passed.
“You’re always so thoughtful,” Dad commented.
I snapped my mouth closed. To a casual onlooker, the observation was not enough to send the rush of nerves shivering down the spine. But it was his tone. That note of distaste.
“They did an amazing job,” I defended myself, hoping he didn’t know I hadn’t actually seen the result of their hard work. “I appreciate them pulling it together on such short notice.”
My father hummed under his breath.
If there was ever a man who hated poverty, who detested blue-collar workers, it was Archy Loring. They were a stark reminder of the world he left behind when he climbed the social ladder.
“Did you finalize the contracts for Steven’s estate?” I kept my voice quiet as the bridesmaids paired with the groomsmen ahead of us.
At the signal from Bill, Carole was escorted to the seat of honor. Dad watched her leave before turning to me.
“I did. You’ll be given your title later this summer, but there’s still the contingency clause.” His critical gaze swept over me.
Bill scooted over to help me pull the veil over my face.
I chewed the inside of my cheek as he fussed and fluffed my dress.
When the first groomsman returned from escorting Carole and paired with Denver, the music through the doors beyond changed.
Bill rushed to do a final check of each of my friends as they left.
“Contingency clause?” I whispered. “What are the terms?”
My father crooked his elbow, and I slid my hand through his. “You and Steven didn’t see the final draft?”
There were only two ways to play this. I hated to admit to my father that Steven hadn’t even told me about the situation in the first place.
That he had to have a bride to inherit the lands, estate, and title.
So if I said no, that I hadn’t seen the damned contract, my father would quite possibly put a halt to this whole charade until negotiations pushed the contract in our favor.
“I didn’t see the final, but he told me last night,” I lied.
Dad hummed again. “I must admit, it’s old fashioned. But we shouldn’t expect anything less from the Brits, right, honey?”
I laughed hoarsely at his attempt at a joke.
We paused as the last pair of the bridal party ventured out.
That should have been Nicole and Cristiano. Forcing that painful thought away took some effort. I almost didn’t hear what my dad said next.
“I do look forward to my first grandbaby being born. That will mean you keep the noble title and honors in the family, no matter what happens in this marriage.”
I nearly tripped over the threshold as we began to move. “A baby?”
“You said you read the contract?” My father pulled up short, missing the cue of the music that was supposed to march us down the aisle. “My first grandchild will seal the ancient lineage, and if it’s a boy, he’ll be an earl just like Steven.”
He didn’t seem to remember my sister was pregnant.
But that was because he’d disowned her.
No, it was I who would bear the next generation in his eyes.
I regretted not drinking this morning. I wanted to be numb.
I muttered something about getting right on that tonight, to which my father laughed, and we began moving, but the whole time I fought to stay upright.
This was all a game. A farce, where I married the wrong man, bore his children, and made the Loring name great.
I don’t even love him.
It wasn’t something I thought bothered me. Marrying for love wasn’t safe. I swore it would never happen to me, but this? This! Where my success depended on breeding with a man I hadn’t even slept with, who kissed me like a sloppy ice cream cone?
My gaze leapt about wildly as we walked across freshly strewn rose petals.
More evidence that Carole got her way whenever she wanted it.
When we rounded the side, I stared hard at the black suit standing at the end of the aisle.
Blood roared in my ears. I couldn’t draw a proper breath.
I didn’t love him—I should love the man I married.
This is all a mistake.
“What is going on?” Dad stopped, and I stumbled into him.
My heart was in my throat, blocking the precious oxygen.
I tore my gaze from the groom’s broad back and tried to see what displeased my father now.
The temperature had dropped tens of degrees.
It would be easier if Dad had a temper. If he was physically abusive.
But that frigid disappointment leaching from his every pore was the most dreadful form of spite.
I opened my mouth to tell him everything was fine, but the words died on my tongue. There probably wasn’t enough air to form them in the first place. None of that mattered.
Everything was not fine.
The venue was empty.
Even the bridal party was gone. The groom stood alone under the marble archway.
“What have you done—” my father started to say.
“I didn’t do it!” I gasped, tugging the veil over my head. It didn’t change the world around me.
“She didn’t.” The groom turned around, and heaven retreated as the devil himself smiled down on us. “I did.”
The man at the end of the aisle wore a Venetian half mask, complete with horns. The cruel twist of the monster’s mouth fit so well with the mask that they seemed to be made from the same artist’s hand.
This was my nightmare, come to claim me.
I stepped close to my dad, knowing that the shelter I craved wasn’t there to be given. Dad would know. He would find out that this fiend had been tormenting me. And instead of dealing with it, I let the dark fantasy continue until now it ruined everything.
“This is a private event!” Dad barked.
The devil slid his hands into his pockets. From behind the slits in the mask, something terrible pulsed in a dark light.
“Good to see you too, Mr. Loring.”
I shivered, suddenly freezing despite the jolly sun casting beams of warmth on the lawn around us.
“This won’t go well for you,” my father promised. “I will make you suffer.”
A humorless laugh croaked from that thick chest. “You can try, but I hold the cards now. Funny, isn’t it? How the tables have turned?”
“You’re a lunatic! I’m calling security,” Dad spewed.
“No, you’re not.” The voice was hard. Granite and unforgiving. “You’re going to do exactly what I want, or else your sins will be plastered across the evening news on every station in this country, and most of the developed world.”
Dad blanched.
Gone was the shelter and protection of his body. He stepped forward, looked around, then stopped. “You can’t do this.”
“I can, and I did.” The devil rose on the balls of his feet and then came back down.
“It took years, but I’m finally more powerful than you, Archy.
And now, I hold every piece of information that will damn you.
Some of it might put you behind bars. The Rock Water Files?
Those might get you assassinated by the Braxton Brotherhood before you even get to trial. ”
My father…sat.
Collapsed in a chair.
Slid down and slumped.
The man who other men feared in the courtroom, the terror of a boardroom, the scourge of many businesses, was shaken by this…this….
Monster.
I looked between the men, not even bothering to ask what sins were being spoken about.
Both men knew the stakes. And I always knew my father played hardball, not afraid to get his hands dirty if he found a legal loophole.
He might have cleaned up his image after refusing to be an associate for the mob and ending his services as their lawyer.
Yet that didn’t mean he was above board in all his dealings.
The law was just a tool for him to get his way.
“What do you want?” Dad managed to keep his voice steady.
The devil slid a hand from his pocket. Slowly, he raised it, pointed a finger at me, and crooked the digit. “I want what’s already mine.”