Chapter 9 The Wedding #2
Adrian returns just as the two servers are clearing up the empty salad plates. He waves away his untouched dish, choosing instead to take a sip from the cooled coffee that his wife ordered for him before he mimics my pose, wrapping an arm around Loni.
I shoot him a look, trying to figure out where he’s been.
He gives me an enigmatic smile before using his other hand to reach up, checking to see if the unlit cigarette is where he left it.
It’s been almost a year since he’s quit.
I know he didn’t sneak out to bum a smoke—not unless he wants to disappoint himself and Loni—so where was he?
Before I can ask, Polly and her partner come back, serving our main courses. Only after we started making a dent in our meals does Loni nudge her husband with her elbow.
“Hey. Did you know that Annaliese is an event planner?”
She clears her throat. “I used to be.”
Adrian ignores her, all of his attention on his wife… like usual. “Of course I did, princess. So’s her mother.” Adrian glances across the table, nodding at Claudia Crawford. “You threw my mother’s fiftieth bash. A Hawaiian-themed luau about a year ago. It was excellent work.”
Claudia smiles warmly. “I did. Thank you, Adrian. How is she?”
Adrian covers up his snort with a wry grin. “She loved it so much, she’s spent half her time in Hawaii ever since. Dad, too. We saw them at Christmas. They’re alive and happy. That’s about all I know.”
“Alive and happy.” Claudia lifts her glass of red wine, a toast in mine and Annaliese’s direction. “If only that’s something we could all strive for.”
Murmurs of agreement break out through the table.
Maman echoes the same sentiment in French before taking Dad’s hand, interlocking her fingers in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
For as far back as I can remember, they’ve had a contentious marriage; based on the way it began, and especially how young they were, it’s to be expected.
Still, there’s no denying that they love each other.
Fuck. I want a love like that.
That’s what I want. To be sitting with Annaliese, twenty-five years down the line, smiling together and holding hands like newlyweds…
If Annaliese’s mother appearance is any hint to what my wife will look like in twenty-five years, I’m one lucky bastard.
Her hair is short, cut to her chin, showing off her delicate features.
Her eyes are the same shade as her daughter’s, and her skin is unlined.
She’s an Order wife with a front-facing job.
She probably is very friendly with the local medspas, but I couldn’t care less.
She takes care of herself. Annaliese obviously does, too.
Yeah. I’m super fucking lucky—and I manage to hold onto that thought until we’ve finished our main course, waiting for the dessert Annaliese arranged in lieu of a cake, when Adrian clears his throat and gestures over his shoulder.
He’d been in the middle of talking to Annaliese and Loni about possibly hiring my wife to give Loni and Adrian the big wedding reception they never had.
It wouldn’t be too soon. They seem to be thinking that it could be a big bash that celebrates their union and Loni’s thirtieth birthday.
That means it would be next June—not this one, but the one after it—which Annaliese agrees would be plenty of time for her to plan something outrageous.
Adrian controlled the conversation, but as though he was expecting this, he noticed the other man first. I follow the gesture, swallowing a curse when I see a last-minute guest standing anxiously in the doorway.
He’s in a suit. I guess I should be glad that he at least made some effort.
Too bad he’s, like, two hours late.
I tap Annaliese’s shoulder, getting her attention. “Hey. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Um. Yeah. Of course.”
I trail my fingers down the sleeve of her dress. “Save me something sweet, would you?”
She flushes, just like I’d hoped she would. Then, regretfully climbing out of my seat, I walk away from her, heading toward our guest instead.
I grab his arm, jerking him to the far corner of the room. This way, I can still see the table behind me, but we have some semblance of privacy in case I need to kill him.
“Sorry. I know I’m late. Adrian called…” Adrian. Of course he did. “He told me to get my ass to Martino’s so I can at least congratulate you guys.” He glances around me, searching for something… or someone. “So, which one is she? Which lucky girl decided to join our fucked-up family?”
Don’t kill Alexandre, I tell myself. Maman and Dad won’t be happy, and I don’t want to ruin Annaliese’s hard work. So no murder, even if he really, really deserves it right now…
Look at him. His eyes are bloodshot. His tie crooked. He reeks of whiskey and smoke.
If he wasn’t my brother and this wasn’t my wedding reception, I’d at least slug him—and he’d deserve that.
Fisting my hands at my side so that I resist the urge to swing, I grit through my teeth, “You got wasted instead of going to my wedding?”
Alexandre was always the golden child. He never did anything wrong. Even when he did, it somehow was my fault. No wonder I ended up doing everything I could to earn my rep.
But even I wouldn’t show up late to Alex’s wedding like this.
A hurt expression twists his features. He looks puppy dog awful, like I kicked him when he was down and he doesn’t understand why I would.
I’m used to it. Like me, he knows how to use his pretty face to his advantage, and even looking like he hasn’t slept in two days, he’s pulling on my heartstrings.
Damn it.
“Alex—”
He frowns. “I’m not wasted, Bas. I just… needed a little liquid courage.”
“For what?”
“For the same reason that I couldn’t bring myself to meet the family at St. Catherine’s.” Alex lets out a wry laugh. “What if I got there and the whole wedding was in place, but instead of you getting hitched, I got shoved up to the altar?”
“Shit, Alex. You are wasted. Why the hell would you think something like that?
“Because of Desmond and Adrian.”
Oh. Fair point, I guess. Alexandre wasn’t at the wedding last June—he never attended any of them, as though he’s allergic to the idea of holy matrimony—but, like the rest of the Order, he heard about what went down.
“Yeah, but Desmond planned on marrying Loni. It was Adrian who showed up with a gun so that he could take his place. Unless you planned on shooting me to take my bride, you had nothing to worry about.”
“I know. I know. But with you having this wedding so soon without any of us even knowing you were serious with this girl… you gotta admit it’s kind of fishy.
” He lowers his voice. No. He thinks he lowered his voice, but that just means that he’s talking at a normal, if slightly slurred, volume.
“If you did this because you felt like you had to… like one of us needed to take a wife, we can stop this. I… I still have time.”
Technically, Alex’s time ran out last August. He got lucky that Jack was killed when he was because Dallas was able to push back the Claiming ceremony. But now that I’m married…
“Don’t worry about it, bro. I wanted to get married.”
He raises both his eyebrows at me, an expression of disbelief obvious.
I nod. “I’m not shitting you. Maybe I didn’t before, but then I met Annaliese. Trust me. I’m right where I want to be. But, hey, that’s me. If you don’t want to settle down, take a wife, pop out some babies… fucking don’t. You’re only thirty. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t sweat it.”
“But the Order—”
“Fuck the Order,” I say simply. “I mean, look at Maman and Dad. He could’ve been King, but he wanted her.
” Just like I need Annaliese in a way I wouldn’t have thought possible before that December night.
“So you don’t play along with the Order bullshit.
What really happens? Dallas won’t give a shit, and I’m sure you don’t care what he thinks, King of not.
As for Dad… you think the man who gave up everything for love would penalize you for not marrying someone you don’t? ”
Alex’s blurry eyes seem to clear a little, almost as if I’m making sense. His brow furrows. “But you… you did.”
I give my older brother a smile, clapping my hand on his shoulder. “ I’ll tell you a secret, big bro. Remember how dad said he knew Maman was the one the instant they met? He looked in her eyes and knew he wouldn’t let her go?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
Annaliese was desperate enough to marry me. She promised a year, but now that we’ve done it, I know one thing for sure: that woman isn’t going anywhere. I’ll make her love me, and as for me…
Alex’s eyes go wide, a look of horror on his face. “Holy shit, Bas. You actually love this chick?”
Only in the Order would a man get such a terrified expression when he talks about love like that. Ditto for how it’s completely acceptable to have a shotgun wedding when love is an afterthought, and duty—plus a makeshift contract—is all that matters.
Do I love Annaliese?
I pat his shoulder, then step back. “Worse,” I admit. “I think I’m obsessed.”
To a man like Alexandre Reynolds, that is somehow worse. “Oh, Bas—”
My brother’s obvious drunken pity is interrupted by a gasp, a squeal, and the sound of chairs moving.
I snap my head, looking at the table. Annaliese is on her feet, staring down at the front of her wedding gown.
Loni has joined her, bending slightly, dabbing at it with a napkin.
Adrian is saying something to the waitress holding a tray down at her side.
His expression is ruthless. Hers would be contrite if it wasn’t for the gleam of satisfaction in her gaze.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Just in case, I push past Alex, making my way back to the table.
“—it’ll be okay. Adrian’s housekeeper is a miracle worker. She can get blood out of anything. I’m sure she’ll be able to get this stain out, too.”
Annaliese gives Loni a thin-lipped smile. “I appreciate it. Thank you. You know what they say: accidents happen.”
I look at Adrian, then Polly.
Yeah. This was no accident.
Firming my jaw, I glare at the waitress.
Her face falls. No wonder. All those times I came to Martino’s, chatting it up with the girls, tipping them handsomely because they were always so sweet to me…
and this is what I get? I have our wedding reception here, and the moment I step away from Annaliese’s side, Polly ‘spills’ a glass of red wine all over her wedding dress?
Too late, she stutters out an apology.
Gracious and well-mannered as always, Annaliese brushes it off.
Of course she does.
Me?
I move to her side, placing my arm over the back of her shoulder. Then, coldly turning away from the waitress, I address the rest of our wedding party.
“Thank you for coming. For sharing our special day with us. But I think it’s time I bring my wife home.”
And if I enunciate ‘my wife’ a little more strongly than necessary before giving a side-eye to Polly?
Well, I’m sure that was an accident, too.