Chapter One #2
Why does that last comment not give me the reassurance I need? He's just as anxious as we all are? Not excited or relieved.
This wedding represents everything the Holidays have cultivated for generations. Power, influence, carefully arranged marriages that keep their dynasty growing. The trust is very specific about that part. Marry who your parents choose or lose everything.
And the pressure and responsibility land on Genevieve as the matriarch of the family to ensure the right matches.
"Right." I swallow hard. "Of course."
She nods with a confident smile. "Good girl. And besides, you'll have a long honeymoon to discuss anything you want with my son."
The traditional two-month Holiday newlywed trip. Essential since every Holiday marriage is arranged.
I guess they figure each couple needs time to get to know each other.
Our honeymoon won't be like that though.
Jameson's already arranged meetings with potential business partners throughout Europe.
Even our honeymoon is a merger, designed after Holiday Industries purchased enough stocks to make them the major stock holder in Newport Staffing Solutions.
With my board of directors having made sure to put our CFO as the interim CEO in place while I'm gone for two months, I might for once in my life get to enjoy this vacation.
Maybe.
The door closes behind her, and I'm alone again.
My hands won't stop shaking as I stare at my reflection.
How did I get here? But I know exactly how.
One careful step at a time, each decision seemingly logical in isolation.
But the biggest kicker was convincing Holiday Industries to buy a major stock option in the company, giving us the capital we need to make our next big jump.
In return, Genevieve suggested a much bigger alliance: Marriage.
Her idea made a lot of sense, especially since most relationships I've had over the last decade have ended in shambles. Not a decent relationship in my thirty-two years of life.
I dated Demetri for almost a year right after college, but he broke up with me stating that I work too much.
Then there was Aaron who lasted two years but accused my success of emasculating him.
And I could never forget Robby, who was more than happy to spend my money on the side woman he lied to about being some big time CEO for a Fortune 500 company when he was a struggling comic who never booked many gigs.
The most attractive part of marrying Jameson is no more loser ex-boyfriends. None of that would happen with him. His family is worth billions, he works just as hard as I do within Holiday Industries, and he's looking for a partner, not a bank account.
Another knock, and this time it's my mother.
Her dark hair is swept up elegantly, thinner than I remember but still beautiful.
She's aged in the last fifteen years but, then again, I guess we all have.
Her warm smile hits me like Brazilian sunshine, so different from the cold Newport wealth I've surrounded myself with.
"My baby girl." She reaches for me, eyes sparkling. "Look at you."
"Mommy." The childhood name slips out before I can stop it. Strange how I can run a multimillion-dollar company but still feel small around her.
"How do you feel?" She asks, that maternal intuition I've missed since she moved to Brazil after catching my father with the housekeeper—affair number three in six years of marriage.
"Like a bride," I lie, but my voice wavers.
"Well, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Her hands smooth down the silk material of my full skirt with beading all around. I look like a cupcake—a very expensive, high-fashion cupcake.
"Did you bring Javier?" I ask about her newest husband, though I already know the answer.
She’s on marriage number four since leaving my father. Each one has taken her further from the single mom who used to braid my hair and tell me stories about growing up in Brazil and moving here with her family when she was four.
Back then, she was still the woman who loved me fiercely, even after my worthless college boyfriend of a father abandoned her the moment he found out she was pregnant with me.
I’ve never met the so-called “sperm donor,” and I hope I never do.
"No, he said he couldn't make the trip. Work, you know how it is." She rolls her eyes. "But lucky for me, your father saved me a seat next to him after he walks you down the aisle." Her voice drips with sarcasm.
She still can’t stand my father, but at least they always pretend to be civil in front of people they want to keep up appearances for. And that would include every one of the rich, famous, and powerful guests attending this wedding.
"You saw Dad?" I ask, though I already know he's waiting for me at the double doors to walk me down and give me away. He might be the one person who’s more excited about this wedding than Genevieve.
The Newport and Holiday wedding. Two titan families, merging.
He sent seven dozen roses to my townhouse when he heard I was marrying a Holiday. After all my efforts to prove I could succeed without his money and connections, I'd ended up choosing exactly the kind of man he would have handpicked for me.
Ironic. Isn’t it?
"I did, and I have never seen him happier." Her eyes narrow slightly. "He's thrilled with your marriage choice … which is exactly why it has me concerned."
I suck in my lower lip, studying the intricate beading at the hem of my gown. Anything to avoid her knowing gaze.
"I know Dad’s happy about it. But that should be a good sign."
She slides her finger under my chin, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You're marrying this Jamie guy because you want to, right? Not to please your father?"
The question lands like a slap. She knows about Isla's situation—she even flew in for Isla's wedding to Kaenan, one of her rare trips back. She saw firsthand how our father's attempt to control Isla's company and force her into a marriage of convenience almost destroyed their relationship.
"It's Jameson," I correct automatically. "And no … this is for me."
But her words burrow deep, taking root where I've buried all my doubts. After everything I've done to prove myself worthy of the Newport name I wasn't born with—am I still that desperate little girl seeking daddy's approval?
And is right now really the best time to decide to unpack all of this?
"Two-minute warning!" The coordinator calls through the door.
My mother kisses my cheek, her familiar perfume bringing back memories of simpler times.
"Forget I said anything. I love you, baby girl. Enjoy your day. If anyone deserves happiness… it's you." She pauses at the door. "And remember…if this doesn’t work out, there's always wedding number two."
The words echo as the door closes, as if divorcing my first husband is a given.
As if first marriages are always doomed from the start.
I guess in the world that my father and my mother live in, that's true, but it's not the fantasy I've had in my head.
Not that anything about marrying Jameson is a fantasy.
My heart pounds against my ribs as reality crashes in. What am I doing?
Before I can think, I'm moving. Grabbing fistfuls of silk and yanking off Jameson’s ring, leaving it on the coffee table. The feeling of an empty ring finger finally has me taking in a deep breath, filling my lungs with oxygen as I had been slowly suffocating before now.
I burst through the door. No time for my phone or the honeymoon bag waiting in the limo, prepared to take Jameson and me to the private airstrip after the reception. The EXIT sign's red glow beckons like salvation.
February air hits my bare shoulders like a wake-up slap.
Seattle's downpour soaks into the dress and veil, making each step heavier as I run, my vision blurring with running mascara as I search the parking lot for my way out.
Violin wedding music fades behind me, replaced by the click of my heels against wet pavement.
Each step takes me further from “perfect” and closer to… what?
Panic rises when I realize I have no car, no escape plan.
I glance around frantically for anything. Anyone.
A conveniently timed public bus would do in the pinch I’m in.
Then I see it—an SUV idles at the exit. I sprint for it in five-inch heels.
Thank God I’m a veteran in stilettos.
"Stop!" I yell through the rain, struggling with yards of wet, heavy silk, ripping off my veil that’s yanking against my hair.
For all I know, the driver is a serial killer, but with my heart beating in my throat, the only escape I care about right now is the one from my own wedding.
I yank the side passenger door wide open and immediately try to stuff myself inside.
I glance barely at the driver sitting in the driver’s seat catty-corner from me. A look of pure confusion on his face.
Then I realize something…I know him.
Forest green eyes meet mine. Ex-military. Tatted up left winger for the Hawkeyes. My brother-in-law's assistant coach for the Little Hawks. Trey Hartley.