CHAPTER 2
Oh fuck? Those are the first words that come out of my future wife’s mouth. No hello? Hi?
“Well hello to you too,” I say to her.
She’s staring at me from her spot halfway down the stairs. She looks delicious in her black dress which accentuates her waist just right. This girl has curves in all the right places.
She glares at me as I catch myself eye fucking her. I can’t wait to get a taste.
She comes the rest of the way down the stairs and stands just far enough away that I would have to take a step forward to touch her.
“Sorry for my daughter’s language. She can be quite a handful,” her father says.
I ignore him and place my hand out for her to shake. “I’m Ezra.”
She doesn’t even look down to acknowledge my outstretched hand but instead chooses to continue to glare at me.
“Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, River.”
“My name isn’t River,” she seethes.
I smirk and turn to her father. “Are we still good for next week?”
“Next week! What do you mean next week?”
She looks back and forth before her father gives her a knowing look. “I have to marry this motherfucker next week?” she asks.
I turn and step forward to grab her jaw and force her to look up at me. She tries to pull away, but I just tighten my grip to hold her where I want her.
“I am not one to fuck anyone’s mother, but I can say that I do look forward to fucking you.”
I push my front against hers so she can feel my cock tenting my pants and give her a quick wink. She pushes me away, and I drop my hand to allow her.
“If I’m going to marry him,” she snarls. “I at least want a say in something.”
“No…” her father starts, but I hold my hand up to stop him.
I watch her for a moment and can see the metaphoric wheels turning in her head. She’s thinking about something in-depth.
“If my wife wants a say in her wedding, then I believe that’s the least we can do,” I say as I tilt my head to continue to watch her. “What would you like a say in?”
“The flowers, the colors, and my dress.”
“Deal.”
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. This is the man I’m supposed to marry? I knew I recognized him because he looks just like his brother. The brother whose fingerprint is currently sitting on a piece of transfer tape in my room. I’m supposed to use this family to get away from my own, and now the second most powerful man in the city is standing in front of me looking like he wants to eat me.
“Well, I, uh, guess I need to get started planning,” I say to the men. “Weddings don’t plan themselves.”
I lift a thumb over my shoulder and then sprint back up the stairs. I need to come up with a plan quickly on how to get out of my current predicament. There’s no way I can marry this man. I’ve been given a small amount of leeway, and I need to make every second count. I am allowed to pick my flowers, the colors, and my dress, so I have some room to come up with an elaborate plan. They can’t know what I’m planning, I have to act like I’m just going with the flow so whatever my plan is has to be discreet.
“Think, Briar, think,” I say to myself as I pace my room. I worry my lip between my teeth as I continue to wear a path into the carpet below me. I take a deep breath and steady myself. A plan will come to me, it always does.
“One thing at a time, Briar. Chill.”
First thing I need to do, pick the colors and flowers.
I have been talking to vendors all day. Who knew colors could be so complicated to choose? I selected a deep pallet that consisted of blues, purples, pinks, and peach. For flowers, I want hydrangeas, roses, lavender, carnations, and anemones. I also specifically asked for twinberry honeysuckle to be included in every arrangement, including my bouquet. I also wanted Ezra to wear it in his boutonniere. If he were to have groomsmen, they need to have the same. Thankfully, when my dad was too busy trying to become number one on the list, I was busy learning more about random subjects. In my free time, I love to watch YouTube videos about nature and plants that have a deadly-looking counterpart. Twinberry honeysuckle looks almost identical to the belladonna flower, which happens to be very toxic when eaten. I will get Maxx to get some for me, and I can sneak it into the wedding. I will place a couple of the poisonous berries onto his plate when he’s not paying attention, and if he questions it, I can play it off like some of the twinberries must have come off.
Once he eats them, “BOOM!” I accidentally scream out loud.
The wedding planners around me all stop what they are doing and stare at me. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
“Sorry…” I say and quickly run from the ballroom.
This is my next step to freedom! I can trash the fingerprint; I don’t need it. Once I’m married to Ezra, I will be entitled to a portion of his money, and I can leave this city once and for all.
All I have to do is pick my wedding dress, walk down the aisle, and do it within six days. This should be a piece of cake.
“Okay, here goes nothing,” I say as I walk into the bridal salon.
There are hundreds of dresses hanging side by side down the walls. In the back, there are white stalls that I can only assume are changing rooms. There are chairs placed in front of each of these stalls for family and friends to sit. I don’t have any friends since my dad was always so paranoid, and my limited family all sucks, so I’m here by myself today. Ezra did call ahead and block it out though, so I have the entire place to myself for four hours and an unlimited budget. I’m not too worried about finding the perfect dress, since my husband will be dead the same night. I’ll have plenty of opportunities to find a better one with my forever.
“What sort of style are you looking for?” the associate asks.
I turn around to face her. “Um, I’m not sure. I’m thinking A-line with chiffon on the bodice and off-the-shoulder sleeves.”
“Okay, I may have something for you. How about you walk around and see if anything else catches your eye?”
“Okay. Oh, and I want it to be black.”
“Black?” the salesperson asks.
“Yep! It’s my day and I want the dress to be black.”
Little does she know that I will also be witnessing my husband’s death on our wedding day, so black just seems fitting.
The store has zero black dresses, so I’ll have to get it custom made before the wedding. Given I’m getting married in a few short days, that means I’ll have to spend more of my future husband’s money to get exactly what I want.
The associate pulls out all the stops, and I try on a dress just like described. An A-line dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves. The chiffon bodice complements the completely rhinestone skirt. From my waistline to the bottom of the train is covered in little jewels. Too bad it’ll be wasted on him.
“It’s perfect!” I exclaim. “We can get it by the wedding?”
“Yes, at the price negotiated.”
Twenty-five thousand dollars seems way too much for a dress, but it’s not my money, so I really don’t give a fuck.
The last thing I have to do is show up to the wedding.