Chapter 3
Maddie
If there was any question about whether or not the Bronsons were standing just on reputation and not on truth, it’s nixed the day of my wedding.
Standing on the balcony of the Bronson Resort in Aspen, I take in the legacy that Benedict’s family has created.
The resort sprawls down a mountainside, all pale stone and dark metal.
The mountains here are so much closer than they are at home in Montana.
But there’s still snow dusting the peaks for mid-April.
Down below, in another section of the resort, guests trudge up toward the gondolas that will take them to the ski trails.
The engagement dinner was two weeks ago. Spring is ready to burst forth, the trees all tipped in light green leaves unfurling, but snow still sits heavy in the crevices of the mountains.
It’s gorgeous.
“Can you believe this?”
Stella joins me on the balcony, adjusting the strapless rose-gold dress that spills down her hips like a silken avalanche.
“It’s stunning,” I admit, watching the way the sunlight makes the sun sparkle.
“How come you’ve never come here before?” Stella asks, hip popped out and arms crossed. “I mean, you’ve known since you were eighteen that you would marry Derrick… so why not scope out his family, the business, all that?”
I scoff, tossing my hair back. It feels monstrous today, thicker with extensions and pulled back in a way that’s making my temples pound.
Or maybe that’s just my impending marriage.
“I didn’t need to come here to do that. Could’ve gone… well, anywhere really. Germany. Moldova. Portugal. Japan.”
“Okay, now you’re just bragging.”
“I’m not!” I laugh, hugging the plush robe tight around me. “I swear. Besides, I don’t want to see any of the other hotels. I’m fine here.”
I shrug, trying to imagine leaving the mountains. The truth is, I’ve spent the last few years dreading this day. It’s made me want to hunker down, scramble to hold onto home.
Stella rubs my back. I’ve tipsily admitted as much before to her, and she reassures me, “Home is only a few hours away. And the Bronsons have their own jet, remember? And you’ll be a Bronson in a few hours.”
I groan, dropping my head to the gorgeous marble railing.
The clack of heels has us both turning around. Mom stands in the balcony doorway, her eyes critically running down my robed body. “Madeline, why aren’t you dressed yet? People are arriving.”
I open my mouth, but she half-turns away. “Yes. Well, I don’t care if the roads aren’t passable yet—surely there’s a plow company you can pay to take care of that! The county? Why would the county care, if we’re clearing their roads for them?”
She disappears and the sound of a heavy door closing echoes in the large suite. Stella and I walk back inside, leaving the doors open to let the chill spring air in. It’s refreshing; assuring me that this is not, in fact, a nightmare, but my real life.
“Deliveries to Canada?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lip. Lately my parents don’t tell me anything about the business.
Once, I thought they’d have to pry event planning from my cold, dead hands.
Turns out all it took is a sharp-eyed, rude woman from Massachusetts who they’re paying twice what I was making.
She took over my office overnight, literally, and I’ve felt unmoored ever since.
“Come on, she’s right. We should get you in your dress.”
I sigh, watching nervously as Stella removes the delicate wrapping around my wedding dress.
It’s stunning. And I hate it.
Well, I hate that it’s being wasted on this. My marriage to Derrick Bronson.
The breathtaking dress exudes elegance and drama.
The off-the-shoulder straps perfectly compliment a corset bodice, made to hug my waist and slim curves.
It shimmers like the snow outside. The underskirt is sleek, fitted, with a high slit on the thigh, and the flowing overskirt of soft tulle cascades to the ground.
It’s romantic, modern, edgy, and elegant.
“Damn,” Stella murmurs.
“Better get this over with,” I sigh, shucking off the robe.
It takes the better part of fifteen minutes and a shoehorn, but eventually I’ve managed to wedge myself into the gorgeous creation. Seeing it in the massive gold-framed mirror is too much; tears start to roll down my cheeks and Stella rushes to my side.
“Oh, Mad.”
“I—I’m fine,” I huff, dabbing at my cheeks carefully. “I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid,” the words come out in a whisper, despite the fact that we’re completely alone. “I just thought I’d get a chance at real love.”
Stella snorts. “Well, we both know weddings aren’t just a one-time thing, right?”
That startles me out of my grief. I gasp, giving her a small shove as she cackles. “Stella! Quiet, someone might hear you!”
My sister’s mischievous grin makes it impossible not to crack a smile.
“Okay, come on,” she laughs. “We don’t have much longer to get this right. But—Maddie, listen—think of the positives. Derrick travels a lot, right?”
Hesitant, I nod, and it hits me that he lied at the engagement party about not liking flying. He has a reputation for traveling pretty much nonstop.
“Okay, so he’ll almost never be here, right? You can live your life without him.”
“And do what exactly?” I ask, smoothing down the skirt of the dress to self-soothe.
“… I don’t know. Take up skiing?”
“Oh, as if.”
But my sister has managed to brighten the mood, and in the last short hour before I’m due to walk down the aisle, we’re joking and chatting.
Gossiping about who will show, who will be jealous of this extravagant wedding, how much wine I’ll have to drink to get through Derrick’s inevitable fumbling later tonight.
“You sure you’ll remember what to do?” she quips, referencing my chronic single-ness.
“Hey, just because I haven’t dated doesn’t mean I’ve been celibate.”
Knelt at my feet to buckle the beautiful, delicate shoes, Stella gasps and stares up at me. “What!? Who?”
The heat of embarrassment flashes across my cheeks. “Remember last summer we had that ranch hand, Raphael, helping out with breaking in the new stallions?”
Stella fake-swoons at the memory of the handsome Italian who barely spoke English as I laugh. There’s a light knock on the door, and we both shut up fast.
“Miss Clarke.” A head pops in—no one I recognize, though they’re dressed like resort staff in a flawless suit. “We are almost ready for you. It’s time.”
“The deal is almost closed.”
Surprisingly, this isn’t the coldest thing my father has ever said—even if it’s what he mutters as we’re standing just to the back of the aisle, out of view.
He hasn’t murmured that I look beautiful, that he’s proud of me. He hasn’t teared up at all. In fact, all he did was check with Mom quickly that the Canada situation was sorted out with the delivery.
He gives me a quick glance, then does a double take.
Time seems to stand still. Part of me wants him to recognize how miserable I am in this moment and call it off.
What he says next astonishes me even more: “Good job, Madeline.”
The sinking feeling in my chest threatens to send me to my knees. I can’t remember the last time either of my parents said anything positive to me—and I’ve been contributing to the business since before I got my degree in my early twenties.
This is what they see as my finest accomplishment?
Marrying a stranger to create a business empire?
Squaring my shoulders, it suddenly doesn’t bother me so much that I won’t be living under their roof (or rather, on their ranch) any longer.
It’s time for me to forge my own path.
I give my dad a flat smile, loop my arm through his, and take a deep breath.
“Madeline,” he says quietly before we step around the corner, “make sure you don’t slouch.”
Wow.
We turn the corner to face the long aisle I’m about to walk down and the man I’m going to marry. The man I’m basically selling myself to.
Except…
He’s not there.
The priest stands under a massive arch of pink and cream flowers, his watery eyes narrowed with worry.
The guests, in three dozen rows of heavy ornate chairs, are murmuring.
My mother is typing furiously on her cell and Stella stands to the side of the altar, torn between looking scared and thrilled.
Shit.
“Where the hell is Derrick Bronson?” my father growls, his arm tightening painfully around mine as he stares out into the crowd.
“Ow, Dad—” I pull away, try to look unbothered. But all eyes are on me. I can feel their judgement.
Even a boy as hapless as Derrick Bronson doesn’t want her.
The thought stings, and the gorgeous skirt of my wedding dress appears to deflate for a moment.
But no. I just decided to take control of my own life.
Tossing the loose locks framing my face, I wrap both hands around my bouquet and walk purposefully down the aisle, leaving my father in my wake.
His horrified gaze practically burns into my back, but I don’t care—the music is playing and it’s time to get this show started, whether it goes up in flames or not.
Stella’s eyes are, in fact, afraid as she watches me march up to her. They dart around the room, looking for Derrick I’m sure. He’s nowhere to be seen, unsurprisingly; maybe another ‘delayed flight’?
Mr. and Mrs. Carter, seated only a few rows back, look livid on my behalf. It’s hard not to notice that plenty of the Bronson guests look… unsurprised.
I hand my bouquet over to Stella and give her a weak smile. No matter how mortifying this is, I’m still the big sister, the rock.
If Derrick doesn’t follow through on the business deal so be it—but I won’t be the reason this didn’t work.
Just as that thought crosses my mind, a loud bang echoes through the hall. I turn and finally take in the stunning vision of my wedding day: one wall is floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the nearby mountains, sunlight spinning in and turning golden as evening approaches.
The guests’ murmurs and questions pick up in pitch.
My father, frozen in shock and anger where I left him, turns. His eyes widen.
Benedict Bronson rounds the corner where, only moments ago, I stepped out to be married to his son.
There’s a pause as everyone takes in the sight of Benedict. He towers over my dad, his silver hair catching the light, a scowl of anger on his face.
Derrick is nowhere in sight.
Before I can say anything he’s striding down the aisle. Right for me.
What the hell is happening?
My heart pounds at the sight of him, fists clenched, dark green eyes locked on mine and a look so determined I know that this man gets anything he desires.