Chapter 15
The decision to have the wedding at the Elite Club was made after careful consideration. The space would be contained and private. There were guards situated at strategic spots, and the members' privacy was a priority.
There was a chapel there and a minister who was part and parcel of the whole deal.
The club was old and prestigious and had been around for almost two hundred years.
It would lend atmosphere and ceremonial pomp.
The wedding was going to be small, with a few selected friends and family members, of course.
And the reporters would be kept out of it.
Landry was leaving absolutely nothing to chance.
He had hoped the whole nasty business with Joel Massey would be wrapped up and tied off before the ceremony, but he was still nowhere to be found.
The last report from the security team was that a man bearing his description had been seen boarding a bus to Seattle.
Landry had little to no doubt that the report was false.
But he was getting married today, and absolutely nothing was going to spoil his ebullient mood.
Except a hell of a lot of nerves. He kept wanting to call to make certain his fiancée was still around and that she hadn't changed her mind.
He also kept reflecting on the fact that his actions had put her in the hospital.
How could she not hate him for it? he wondered as he frowned at his reflection in the mirror.
He had wanted to be with her last night, but the women, including his mother, hers, her best friend, and his own sister, had conspired to keep her away. They had all arrived last night and had gone straight into the pre-wedding parties for both him and her.
His had included card games, lots of drinking, and not-so-censored jokes and advice.
And all the time, he sat there wondering what she was doing and how he could sneak off to be with her for a few minutes.
He had spent a frustrating night tossing and turning in his bed, amazed at how much he had become accustomed to having her next to him.
"You look like a man in deep contemplation."
He jerked at the sound of his friend's voice and realized he had not even heard when Jackson entered the room.
"Where is she?" Turning away from the mirror, he decided that he looked presentable enough. He had decided on the traditional black tuxedo with a white shirt and a delicate boutonniere of white carnations and red roses. It was the same as the bouquet the bride would be carrying.
Jackson's brows rose in part amusement and part sympathy.
He had been right there before, where his bowels felt as if they were about to erupt.
"Inside her suite with women attending to her needs.
" He glanced at his watch before marching over to straighten the younger man's collar.
"It's about that time, and I don't think you want to keep your bride waiting. Second thoughts?"
"Not a chance. I'm as eager as a guy anticipating his first time with his longtime crush." He smiled slightly. "And she's that and more. I love her so much, it terrifies me."
"Been there, done that. Still doing it."
"Does it get old?"
"Nope," Jackson told him cheerfully. "It just gets better. I'm still head over heels and foolishly in love with Jerri. It's pathetic, but-" he grinned, "I love every gut-twisting minute of it."
"That's what I thought." Taking a deep breath, he rubbed a hand over the very close shave he had been given this morning and considered himself ready.
"Let's go."
* * * * *
The "small" chapel was packed to capacity and sumptuously decorated.
Garlands of flowers and streamers were everywhere.
Balloons hung on the ceiling, red, blue, and white.
Landry frowned as his eyes scanned the crowd.
They had expected twenty people, but as far as he could count, there were twice that number.
With a mental shrug, he trained his eyes on the entrance.
He wanted to see her walking towards him and pledging the rest of her life to him, something that should have happened fifteen years ago.
He hated the separation, but it could not be helped. And here he was, anxiously waiting for her to walk through that arched doorway.
He only glanced at the two women walking in.
Kathy was wearing an electric blue gown with a scooped neck, and Lori had on rose gold.
He met her almond-shaped eyes and saw the glint of amusement in them.
He had met her when they were teenagers, of course, but the next time he saw her, she had warned him about breaking her friend's heart again.
"I specialize in twisting men's dicks off at the roots," she had told him with a wide smile.
"I'll bear that in mind," had been his dry rejoinder. Despite the woman's crude and irreverent manner, he liked her.
When the music changed, he found himself tensing, his breath strangling inside his throat, only to be released in a whoosh as soon as she walked through the doorway on the arm of her brother.
No other bride had ever looked so ethereal and outrageously lovely.
The dress was a champagne-colored silk and lace and fitted her slender curves like a glove.
Her hair was shining, the thick strands falling artlessly down her shoulders.
Instead of a veil, she wore a saucy little hat perched on the left side of her head.
Her makeup was flawless, her lips curved as she stared at him. He only had eyes for her. Only her. He was so caught up in the magic that he was not aware that he had moved until he was standing in front of her and reaching for her hands.
With a cursory nod to her brother, he took complete possession of his bride. Words failed him at first, and he felt like a callow youth standing before royalty.
"You cleaned up nice."
Her soft voice broke the spell and his speechlessness and made him smile.
"I don't have the words to tell you how beautiful you are."
"I'm sure you'll find them eventually." She squeezed his hands. "Shall we?"
"I've been waiting fifteen years for this." Tucking her hand through his arm, he led the way.
* * * * *
At the very back of the church, the distinguished-looking gentleman with the smoothly cut salt-and-pepper hair and a tiny goatee dabbed at his eyes, eyes of a brilliant and sharp Caribbean blue, as the couple exchanged vows.
"Wonderful couple, aren't they?" the buxom woman seated to his right and wearing too much Chanel No.
5 commented. She had squeezed herself into a dress that was one size smaller and looked absolutely ridiculous.
"I'm friends with the bride's mother," she added proudly, as if that was some sort of accomplishment.
He could tell her that he was the groom's father but decided to let it rest.
"Lovely." His smooth tone left her in no doubt that he was not in the mood for a conversation.
It had been pathetically easy to slip inside the overpriced and ostentatious club.
All he had to do was swipe a member's card.
It was that easy. He was going as Joseph Bailey, the name on the card.
He suspected the man was now searching for it.
The disguise had been the hard part. He was an expert at being a chameleon and had honed his skills over the years.
He had taken a risk, but he wasn't about to miss the most momentous time in his son's life.
He would take pictures to place in the scrapbook he had compiled.
Amusement twisted his lips as his eyes tracked over to where his former friend and his whore of a wife sat in a place of prominence in the front.
He could so easily take them out. But nothing would spoil this very special occasion.
He could objectively admire the bride. She was staggeringly beautiful, but that meant little or nothing to him.
Beautiful women were known to be fickle and faithless.
His eyes hardened as he stared at Jessica, his lips curling contemptuously.
The dress she was wearing was more suited to a younger woman.
She should be ashamed of displaying herself like the whore she was.
But then again, she was dressed appropriately. Tearing his eyes off her, he forced himself to concentrate on the ceremony.
* * * * *
"My wife." Emotions swamped him as he waltzed with her around the ballroom. "It's going to take me a few years to get used to the fact that we're husband and wife."
She laughed up at him, the feeling of happiness and well-being tucked deep inside her heart. She was anticipating their wedding night.
"I'll keep reminding you," she assured him teasingly.
They were being observed but had eyes only for each other.
His fingers trailed intimately up and down her back. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the lace and silk of her wedding dress. "I cannot wait to get you naked." His voice had deepened, sending shivers up and down her spine.
"Why do I get the feeling that's the main reason you married me?"
He merely grinned, eyes wandering over her beloved face. "That might be a factor. I-"
"I would tell you to get a room, but I think that's covered. You're monopolizing the bride, my friend," Jackson said, clapping him on the shoulder. "How do you put up with his possessiveness?"
"Why don't you go to-"
"And his rudeness?" Taking her arm, Jackson's eyes danced merrily as his friend glowered at him. "Besides, as part of my duties as your best man, I'm honor bound to dance with this lovely bride."
"One dance," Landry muttered.
"Of course. Now go away." Jackson swept her into his arms as the band picked up a livelier tune. "He's still boring holes in my back."
"I bet he's thinking up ways to pay you back," she said.
Jackson's grin widened. "You know him well." His smile faded as he gazed down at her. "He adores you."
Her heart turned over and settled. "I adore him back."