15. Lara
15
LARA
The next few days in the Murphy mansion go by as slow as molasses. I don’t leave the room, and Rory doesn’t so much as come and check on me.
I’m going stir crazy, and I haven’t seen anyone in two days except for Kristina, bringing me her delicious meals.
Finally, I’m so bored on the third day that I venture out into the hallway, only to bump into a woman who’s smaller and stockier than I am.
“Oh,” I gasp, putting my hand to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself.”
She’s wearing a simple pantsuit, looking dressed-up and casual somehow at the same time, with her blonde hair up in a bun.
“I’m Raquel.” She sticks out her hand for me to shake.
I shake it slowly, confused. I thought it was only Bree and Rory in the Murphy lineage.
“I’m—”
“Lara Burke.” She nods. “I’m on your security detail.”
I look at her wide but still feminine frame. “You are?”
She rolls her brown eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those broads who thinks we should all be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen?”
I laugh nervously. “No, no, I’m not that way at all. Trust me.”
Raquel smiles. “Good. Because I grew up with four brothers, and I’ve never so much as stepped foot in the kitchen.”
“Are you related to Niall?”
She shrugs. “Somewhere. On my mother’s side. I’ve never officially met the man myself. But when he called and said he needed me, I was here with bells on. Family, ya know?”
I guess I do know. I know a lot of my family members that would show up the second Da called.
I nod slowly. “Well, listen, I’m bored out of my mind here. Can I at least go to the pool?”
Raquel looks me over coolly before smiling again, which changes her whole face. “Can’t see why not.”
I grin back at her, excited, and rush back into the bedroom to change into a bikini.
I keep getting new clothing sent by Rory, even if he is not showing up himself.
It’s not like I miss him or anything. It’s just... I don’t have anyone to talk to.
Can I make friends with a Murphy security guard? Paige probably could. She makes friends with everyone.
I feel an overwhelming wave of sadness, missing her, missing my brothers and my father, too. God, what if Bree has the baby before this is all over? What if I miss it?
I take a shaky breath, hurrying to change and distract myself from those thoughts.
Raquel walks out to the pool with me, laughing as I run and cannonball into the middle of it. She watches from afar as I do a few laps, and we end up sitting on the patio chairs, talking about everything and nothing, like friends do.
We head back inside and eat lunch, and the day doesn’t seem so long.
The wedding is tomorrow, and I was almost sure that Rory would come by, go over everything, tell me the plan all over again. As if I haven’t memorized it already.
But he doesn’t. Instead, I go to bed alone in the wee hours of the morning, thinking about how messed up everything has gotten.
I’ve stepped into the dress and buttoned as many of the small pearl buttons on the bodice as I can, and now I just stand there, half-dressed, staring at myself in the mirror.
I can’t do this on my own, and I’m about to call Raquel in from the hallway. She’s admittedly not good at “girly” stuff, but she can help me button this before I tear it off and throw it out the window.
But a soft knock sounds on the door, and Rory sticks his head in.
I gasp and hide myself. “You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding.”
Rory scoffs. “I don’t care about superstition. Besides, none of this is real.”
None of this is real.
That’s true, but why does it sting a little? I guess it’s because I wish this was my real wedding, with a real groom, with my real family.
It seems so wrong to be doing it with Rory, who I barely knew.
Rory slides inside and shuts the door behind him, pulling together the sides of the dress and buttoning them with swift fingers.
He’s done in no time at all, but I can still feel his hands on my skin, how it made me heat up.
I’m nervous and touch-starved, that’s all it is.
“Come out when you’re ready,” he says quietly. “We’re all waiting for you.”
I freeze as he walks out the door, looking at myself in the mirror. I can’t put it off any longer. I have to officially meet Niall Murphy.
The man who tried to kill my father.
And I’m marrying his son. What has happened to my life?
Another knock startles me, and I whirl around to tell Rory that I’m coming, dammit, when I see an older, fatter version of Rory walk in the door.
Niall.
Terror rockets through me, making my blood run cold.
“Hello, Lara.”
“H-hello,” I stutter, keeping my eyes on him like he might stab me in the back.
“I thought I’d take over and walk you down the aisle,” he says with a cruel smirk, and some manner of anger dulls the fear.
I’m still as scared as I’ve ever been, but I can’t believe his audacity, offering to walk me down the aisle.
“I didn’t get to do it with my Bree, after all.”
I don’t know what to do but nod, and Niall opens the door wider, gesturing for me to walk out first.
I take a deep breath as I walk out onto the back terrace, where arches are set up along with flowers.
It’s actually a beautiful scene, out on the Murphy grounds with all the flowers everywhere.
Niall’s palm light on my lower back and revulsion crawls across my skin, but I don’t pull away.
Then he sticks out his arm, and I wrap my hand around his flabby bicep, forcing a smile under my veil.
There are people sitting on both the bride and groom’s side, but no one that I really know is at the wedding.
It’s all Murphys and Murphy sympathizers, all snakes in my opinion.
Except for Rory.
I still don’t trust him fully, but I truly think that he wants to keep Bree safe and keeping me safe is just a means to that end.
It’s not like he cares about me, but he can use me to help his sister.
And it isn’t like I’m not getting anything out of the deal. I’ll finally be free.
So, I have to grin and bear walking down the aisle with my father’s greatest enemy.
I try my best to ignore Niall, but it’s like ignoring an elephant in the middle of the room.
My heart pounds with fear and some manner of excitement.
I look up at Rory when we reach the end of the walk, and he looks sharp in a tuxedo that’s tailored to him perfectly.
He looks great, honestly, and I must admit I look pretty good, too.
The dress he’s picked out for me suits me well, and I’ve put my hair up in a curly bun with some tendrils hanging down to frame my face.
Rory smiles as he lifts my veil, and the priest starts to drone on, thanking everyone for coming before asking us to exchange our vows.
We’ve picked the standard ones, of course. It’s not like we have anything heartfelt to say to each other.
I swallow hard as I repeat what the priest says, barely even listening and understanding the words. Rory repeats them, too, and when the time comes for the question of the day, we both say, “I do.”
Then we exchange the rings, and they both fit perfectly. I love the way the rubies reflect in the sunlight. It’s nearing dusk, and it’s lovely outside.
This would be so perfect if it was real. If I was really in love. If he really cared about me. If I wasn’t here against my will.
It’s nearly bittersweet.
When Rory leans down to kiss me, it’s not out of frustration and anger like our first kiss. It’s not rough and sloppy, but instead deliberate, his tongue sweeping across my lips. It’s like a real kiss, and it makes my head feel light on my shoulders.
Rory takes my hand, and we run down the aisle, getting pelted with birdseed.
We stop in our tracks, and I’m giggling madly, glad to be away from Niall and with Rory, who I sort of trust.
We walk around to the back of the estate where catering is set up. My stomach growls. I haven’t been able to eat all day, even though Kristina offered me breakfast and lunch. My stomach has just been in knots.
I make a beeline to the crab cakes, and Raquel is standing near them with a plate in one hand and a champagne flute in the other.
“Oh, champagne,” I breathe. “I almost forgot about champagne.”
“It’s really the only reason to go to a wedding,” Raquel drawls, and I look at her curiously.
“Have you ever been married?”
Her face shutters. “Once.”
She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so I don’t push.
“Wouldn’t let anyone tie me down or hold me back, now,” she says proudly, and I smile, putting a hand on her shoulder while I devour a crab cake.
“Don't ever change, Raquel.”
“Wouldn't dream of it."
I eat my fill of the catered appetizers, and then I head out to the dance floor, where I end up dancing with Rory’s second cousin twice removed.
He swings me around the dance floor and after two glasses of champagne, my head spins just slightly. But it feels good to let loose, to not be full of anxiety all the time.
I giggle as he spins me around, and then I’m looking up at Rory, who taps on his cousin’s shoulder.
“May I cut in?”
His cousin backs away with a smile and a bow, and I wrap my arms around Rory’s neck.
“What, are you jealous?” I tease.
He scoffs. “Of Terry? No way. Kid used to wet his bed up until he was thirteen.”
I can’t help but bark out a laugh. “That’s mean.”
He shrugs. “It’s true. Besides, you’re my fake wife,” he whispers. “Not Terrance’s.”
I smile, wondering idly if he’s flirting with me. I’m flirting with him, at least a little bit. Maybe it’s the champagne or the fact that he’s the only person I can potentially trust at this whole event. Maybe it’s because I've been away from my loved ones. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been on a real date in nearly a year.
But Rory’s eyes are looking more and more inviting, his generous mouth...
I’m so focused on Rory’s mouth that I barely hear the deep voice behind me.
“My turn.”
I turn to see Niall standing there, holding out his hands. I stiffen, but Rory’s already stepping away, giving me an apologetic look.
I steel myself but paste on a fake smile.
“You look lovely, Ms. Burke.”
“Mrs. Murphy, now,” I say flatly, and Niall smiles, showing sharp canines.
“That's right.” He pauses. “You seem to be getting along all right with my boy.”
I stiffen again. “Might as well make the best of a bad situation."
Niall scoffs. “A bad situation? Oh, a’stor.” The Gaelic nickname that my father calls me coming out of Niall’s mouth makes me shudder. “This isn’t a bad situation. I can show you a bad situation.”
I go limp in his arms as he moves me around the dancefloor, terrified. “There’s no need. You’ve gotten what you wanted.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t, lovey.” He grins. “Not yet, anyway.”
The song ends, thank God, and I’m able to get back to Rory, shivering all over.
“Are you ready to go inside?” He looks between me and his father on the dancefloor.
“Yes, please.”
Rory takes my hand, and when we’re finally inside the mansion, away from all the people, he draws me into his arms, hugging me tightly.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” he promises, and I shiver again but melt into his arms, allowing myself to feel safe and warm for the first time today.
I’ve been so anxious and afraid, and Rory’s chest is so firm...
I don’t realize he's leading me up the stairs until I trip on one of them, and Rory grunts, scooping me up in his arms.
I giggle. “Are you going to carry me across the threshold?"
“It's tradition, isn't it?”
I hum in response, and people must be trailing in downstairs, because I hear whoops and hollers.
I can’t help but flush as Rory kicks the door of our bedroom shut and plops me down on the bed. I bite my lip, looking up at him.
He raises a bold eyebrow, taking off his tuxedo jacket and loosening his bowtie. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re going to eat me alive.”
“Maybe I want to.”
“Lara,” he breathes, his eyes intense as he looks down at me. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I shrug. I want someone to touch me. I want someone close to me. I need it.
“Might as well get something out of this marriage, shouldn’t we?”
Rory gives me a half-smile and then pulls me up into a standing position. “Gonna take an hour to get out of this dress,” he murmurs against my neck. “You might change your mind before then.”
I giggle and when he finishes unbuttoning the bodice, I shimmy out of the dress, letting it fall to the floor. I’m only wearing a white thong underneath the dress, and Rory looks down at my body hungrily.
He takes a hold of my hip in one hand, pulling me closer, and I start to unbutton his shirt, tugging out his cummerbund and tossing it to the floor impatiently. I get his shirt undone, and I slide my hands along the broad expanse of his chest.
Rory draws in a sharp breath as my hands move to his waistband.
He grabs my wrists, looking into my eyes.
“You have to be sure that you want this, Lara,” he growls.
I wiggle out of his grasp and grope him through his tuxedo slacks.
Rory lets out a long groan, swaying toward me, and I smile.
“I want this.”
“Thank God,” he mumbles, and then kisses me, hard and rough and hungry.
He pushes me down on the bed, shedding his shirt and fumbling with the buttons of his slacks.
His hands run up my thighs and then my hips, fingers slipping under the sides of my thong and pulling it down and off.
“So fucking beautiful.”
I arch my back, and his hands go to my small breasts, cupping them, tracing his thumbs across my nipples until I’m gasping.
One of his hands moves between my legs, drawing his fingers through my lower lips as if to test my wetness.
I’m already slick, but as he begins to swipe his thumb across my clit, I find myself shivering, my orgasm building in the bottom of my stomach.
“Rory, please…”
He grins, freeing his erection from his slacks.
My eyes widen at the size of him.
It’s not like I’m a blushing virgin, but I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone that big.
I lick my lips. I’m not a quitter.
I spread my thighs further, rocking my hips against his hand, and he moans low in his chest and presses two fingers inside of me.
I let out a shaky breath but before I can reach my peak, he removes his fingers and guides his cock inside me.
The stretch feels unbelievable, and I cry out when he starts to move inside me.
God, he’s good. The way he moves his hips has me shuddering all over when I come almost suddenly, clenching around him.
Rory doesn’t slow down, just cursing and moving his hips faster, his rhythm stuttering just slightly.
“Fuck, fuck…” I come again, and Rory growls against my neck, biting down on the juncture of my neck and shoulder when he spills inside me.
It was quick and rough and not exactly wedding night “making love,” but I feel happy, smiling as he collapses on top of me.
It feels good to have someone want me, to be in someone’s arms.
So what if it’s Rory Murphy? Doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.
Even hours later, when I curl up against him, being the little spoon as he puts his arm across my waist, even when I feel warm and safe and happy for the first time in a long time, I know it isn’t love.
It can’t be.
Chapter Sixteen