Chapter 31
Dalton
Everyone looks like a bug to squash when you’re in a monster truck. But this one is driven by a chauffeur and blasts “Marry You” by Bruno Mars, so I suppose there will be no squashing today.
I admit that I didn’t expect Corvus to agree to my request for our wedding ride, since he’s all about the gothic aesthetic, and the gothic revival church in a small Upstate New York town demands a carriage, or at the very least a fancy vintage car.
He is somewhat embarrassed by our choice of vehicle, and his family will surely poke fun at him for it, but he actually cares about fulfilling my dreams too. So here we are, arriving to our wedding in a monster truck and I’m having the time of my life.
Corvus must really love me to have agreed to this.
I lean in to kiss him when the monster truck parks as close as it can get to the church.
One thing’s for sure, the Van der Horns are gonna remember this wedding until the end of their lives once I’m done putting my stamp on it.
I might have gone a bit all-out with everything from the decorations to the food we’ll be having later, but I never claimed to be responsible with money.
I choose to blame Daphne, since we did spur each other on.
After all, if Corvus was unhappy with it, he would have made that known.
Instead, he slides his fingers to the back of my head and pulls me closer to the sound of some hooting and cheering down below.
I’m so proud of him. He’s been thrust into coming out, fell into the relationship with me, struggled with how he feels about his sexuality, and here he is, out and proud at my side.
He loves me. I know he does.
“Come on now, lovebirds, no stalling,” Remo says, shoving closer a movable set of stairs, complete with a railing adorned with black lace.
He’s sporting a new bruise, even though the old one is still fading, but I suppose that for people like us it’s almost like wearing makeup.
The right person loves a man with scars.
I know how many guests we’ve invited, but it’s still a shock to see the massive crowd filling the churchyard and spilling into the old graveyard.
Fresh snow has fallen earlier today, and while it’s been swept from paths, piles of white fluff are draped on trees stretching their branches above the yard.
It gets dark early in January, but the silvery Christmas lights are still up, and they shimmer everywhere around us as my feet touch the ground.
For a moment I consider giving Corvus a hand on the last steps, but he doesn’t need my assistance.
What he could use is a warmer jacket and a hat, but my man is too vain and went with whatever suited the rest of his look best. It might be worth it, because he’s stunning in his elegance, dressed in all black, with just a burgundy cravat matching the color of my suit.
His outfit isn’t particularly flamboyant, with the exception of the orchid in his breast pocket and a large bejeweled cross pinned to his tie, but Corvus doesn’t need to be flashy to stun, his sharp cheekbones and beautiful blue eyes do that for him.
I could wax poetically about him for days. He’s the man I want to fall asleep with every day, and who I’m maybe a little unhealthily obsessed with. I’m already considering ways of adjusting my life just so I can spend more time with him.
When he descends the steps and finally grabs my hand, I squeeze it to reassure myself that it’s solid.
This is not a dream. A month ago, I was meant to die for the amusement of the Van der Horn family, and now this amazing man is making me a part of the same clan.
The greatest writers couldn’t have made this shit up.
Corvus stalls when the guests cheer for us, still self-conscious about being open with his sexuality, but I offer him a smile, and he dives in, kissing me with a tenderness no one ever touched me with.
I might not be a precious piece of porcelain, but damn, does it feel good to be handled like one sometimes!
“Quite the ride you have there,” Roger, Corvus’s uncle, states, approaching to pat my back. The frost on his horseshoe mustache glints in the colors of winter, and I suppose he appreciates that his cowboy hat is not completely out of place among the gothic finery.
“It’s fucking sick!” Aspen exclaims and pats the front wheel with amazement glimmering in his blue eyes. He turns to his dad. “Can I take it for a spin?”
Roger shakes his head. “Not now, Aspen. You’ve done enough damage today.”
I don’t dare ask what he’s done. Corvus would probably call his ‘dressy’ tracksuit and shirt with tie combo criminal enough.
Aspen rolls his eyes and walks off, so I guess he came over for the truck, not for the actual grooms.
Roger clears his throat. “So, as I was saying, Karl might be more conservative, but I appreciate the pomp and extravagance.” I have to quickly remember who Karl was, as there are so many Van der Horns I struggle to keep track of them, but Roger must mean his brother and the big wig himself.
I’ll try to remember this bit of animosity between them, as navigating these relationships will be part of my life now.
Corvus might be still holding my hand, but he steps forward, alarmed. “Did Aspen do something I should be aware of?”
Roger flushes and clears his throat. “Well… his ideas for surprises can be a bit too much—”
“Where is he?” Corvus asks, absent-mindedly nodding at every person tapping him in greeting.
Ah, a man on a mission. I love how proficient he is at dealing with everything.
We were in the throes of preparation yesterday, yet he still found the time to talk me through a financial plan he came up with for me.
He was talking a lot about investments and stocks, and I’m not quite sure I understood, but it doesn’t matter that much, since I trust him with it all.
Roger sighs. “Well, he’s gone inside, I think? But wait, Karl wanted to talk to you,” he adds, but it’s too late.
Corvus flashes me an apologetic smile. “I’ll see you there,” he says and walks off, like a shark on Aspen’s trail.
By ‘there’ he means at the altar, and I smile like an absolute goof.
Roger pats my shoulder. “We might have met in unfavorable circumstances, but you will be family now. If Karl gives you shit, you just come to me.”
That’s so unexpectedly kind, I don’t know what to say for a moment. I’m happy enough that I’ll be marrying Corvus, but in the meanwhile I’ve made friends with his mom, bonded with his cousins, and it looks like even the Van der Horn old guard is not about to shun me.
“Thank you,” I choke out. “I don’t have any family left, so it means a lot.”
“Did I hear my name?”
Most of the guests are already entering the church, but Damen’s father still lingers, his steel gray hair colored silver by the lights above us.
“I was just telling Dalton about that time I put crayfish in your boots.”
Karl scowls. “And you’re only alive because our father was still around. Don’t be tempted to do anything stupid,” he adds, capturing my gaze with eyes so intense I feel as if there’s a knife threatening my family jewels.
“I would never,” I say.
Karl smirks. “I was talking to my brother, but good. I’m pretty sure Corvus has a vice grip on you, if you catch my meaning.”
I can’t help it. I do think of the way Corvus’s ass squeezed me last night, but I’m pretty sure Karl is implying Corvus’s torture devices. “I’m ready to be of service however needed.”
Karl pats my shoulder. “Good man. I hope there’s no shrimp at the reception? I despise them.”
“Err, no, I don’t think there is.” But when my phone buzzes in my pocket, I know it’s time to move so I can finalize my surprise. “There is squid ink pasta though. It has no fishy flavor!” I assure him. “I’m sorry, I do have to go.”
People keep stopping me, even guests I have never met, but I try to politely promise to talk to them at the reception and hurry past the gate leading to the parsonage.
My lips stretch into a smile when I see the truck belonging to the special effects company I hired with Daphne’s help.
The wedding’s supposed to start in the next five minutes, so I hurry to meet the man standing at the back of the vehicle.
I’ll just make sure he knows when to unleash the fireworks and speed back to the ceremony.
“Mister Cross?” The guy asks before shaking my hand and introducing himself as Steve.
He sounds like a New Yorker, born and bred, and has the body language to match it.
“I know you’re in a hurry, so I just need you to see the inventory and sign a contract.
” His companion, a young man with a nose that was badly broken in the past, opens the back of the van, revealing a number of boxes.
I lean inside, about to pretend I’m counting them when something collides with the back of my head.
I fall face first to the floor of the van, too dizzy to comprehend what’s going on, yet not out. On instinct, I pat around me and grab a foot-long firework shaped like a rocket, but it’s pulled out of my hand before I get to swing with it.
“Stay fuckin’ down,” Steve hisses as someone else pulls my hands back, and when I sense the barrel of a gun against my head, I’m conscious enough to relent.
I spot another man inside, deep in the back of the van, but my vision is still blurry, mind scattered.
“The… fuck?” I manage to choke out right before I’m gagged, and I curse myself. I should have screamed when I had the chance. Fuck.
“Go on, pull him in,” says a voice I know, but from where?
I bit my tongue when I fell, and my mouth tastes of blood, but when two men flip me over and pull thick straps across my body, I know they have me. It’s too fucking late.
There are no Christmas lights in this back yard, but as the stranger leans forward, his face emerges into the faint glow of the lamp attached to the ceiling inside the van.
My heart stops.
Simon fucking Kemper?
What. The. Fuck?
I know for a fact that Corvus paid off my debt to the casino this fucker owns. I try to mumble that through my gag as I stare into his eyes. When I met him at the casino bar, he seemed like just any other elegant guy, but now he gives off absolute psycho vibes.
“What’s that?” he asks, grabbing my chin. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
Okay. So he is a psycho.
He chuckles as he scoots in front of me and I consider kicking him in the nuts, but there are three other guys here, possibly all armed, and they haven’t killed me yet, so I rather take my chances and stay meek for now.
This must be a misunderstanding.
Simon stares at me. “I bet you’re thinking that this is a misunderstanding.” Yep. “You paid off your debt after all, so why would I torment you so?” He pouts and pats my cheek. “Well, maybe because you were supposed to be dead not swanning around Corvus Van der Horn like you deserve to be here.”
Is he… jealous over Corvus? I’m struggling to put the puzzle pieces together, so I can only hope he’ll tell me himself, since he seems to be in the mood for speeches.
In the corner of my eye, I see Steve rolling his eyes, but the opinions of staff don’t seem to matter to Simon, because he grabs a thin piece of wood resting on the floor of the truck and smacks me with it.
It does hurt, but the flimsy plank breaks, and I can hear the noise of withheld laughter even over the thudding in my ears.
Too bad that money speaks to those goons louder than respect.
“You thought you were too good for me?” Simon hisses, his face twisted with disgust. “Nobody says no to me! And if the Van der Horns can’t finish the job, I’ll do it myself!”
The reasons behind my time as prey, and the assassination attempt finally click in my dazed mind, but I can’t believe a man this serious would bother with all this over the petty matter of wounded pride.
The audacity of it. The self-importance.
I frown to communicate my thoughts in the only way I can.
Is this guy really trying to get me killed me because I wouldn’t fuck him?
When I refused his advances, he tried to pay me, and that only made me want him less.
I’ve done crazy shit in the past, but sex has always been something for fun, for me.
None of this matters right now.
If he isn’t planning to kill me outright, a much worse fate awaits me at his hands wherever we’re going.
But most importantly, this is my fucking wedding day, and I will not have Corvus thinking I deserted him.
Simon pats my head as he straightens up with a smirk I want to punch off his face. “I prepared a cozy little pen for you with my pigs.”
What. The. Fuck.