Nineteen
Isla
S ienna’s wedding radiates ethereal glamour. It’s in a class above high class.
Perched atop Starlight Mountain, the venue’s location places us squarely in the heart of a winter fairy tale. Framed by floor-to-ceiling windows, the building offers a panoramic sweep of the landscape. It’s as if nature itself received a VIP invitation to the celebration.
The room is packed with all of Sugarpine Springs. Our town is just that kind of place. And the Sinclairs are those people. Trusted. Respected. Loved.
Soft classical music winds through the air, layering over the animated chatter of guests. Asher and I slip into seats near the back, having barely made it on time—and in one piece—thanks to his bright idea to outrun a snowstorm in his worn-down relic of a car.
Theo sits across the aisle with the rest of the Thorne crew. The tux he’s wearing elevates his presence to a level that can only be labeled as obscene . It grinds my composure straight into the marble floor. I can’t even take all of him in without risking a full-body blush.
It doesn’t help that the kiss-shaped elephant in the forest stands between us. Or, more accurately, the entire orgasming herd of them. The beasts stampeded through my self-control, trampled over common sense, and left my body reeling from shockwaves I still feel.
At least I was smart enough to underline the no strings rule.
Since college, every hookup came with the same condition: no commitment.
No matter what.
Maybe it was losing my parents that triggered my need to protect myself from feelings. Or perhaps it was Theo turning me down that ignited my obsession with detachment.
Either way, I’d rather be untouchable than in pieces. No risk might mean no reward, but it also guarantees no heartbreak.
Peace over passion.
The plan is simple: get my fill of him— of us —until this ridiculous, impossible crush that’s haunted me for years burns itself out.
Then I’ll be free.
Finally.
On my hundredth less-than-stealthy glance, Theo’s gaze catches mine, and he pins me with a stare that promises the fulfilment of every fantasy I’ve had since I was eighteen. My mind instantly launches into a detailed montage of daydreams where he plays the lead role of… everything .
Everywhere .
His eyes rake over me, and I shift in my seat, suddenly hyperaware of the silky emerald dress clinging to my skin. It dips low in both the front and back, held together by a delicate maze of crisscrossing lace ribbons.
I’ve forgone a bra—a reckless choice I don’t regret one bit. Not with Theo looking at me like he’s picturing the fastest way to strip me bare.
We haven’t even nailed down what our arrangement will entail—beyond, hopefully, some actual nailing—but the next step feels inevitable.
As the thought hits, I press my thighs together, chasing a modicum of relief. All the move does is pull my focus to the needy ache curling low in my core.
I run my tongue behind my teeth, pivoting my focus to Sienna’s fiancé instead.
Lucas stands at the front of the room, perfectly expressionless.
Aside from one glimpse at his designer watch, he’s been frozen in place since taking his position.
Unlike most grooms I’ve witnessed in action at the altar, there’s no anxious heel-bouncing, no restless cuff-adjusting, no shallow breaths betraying nerves.
Just cool, measured control.
Too cool.
The guy raises my hackles, but my unease probably stems from undying loyalty to my best friend.
And while I’ll always be Team Asher , I can’t deny there’s technically nothing wrong with Lucas Lyle.
He’s the definition of a catch—handsome, Ivy League–educated, both independently successful and generationally wealthy .
Still…
Everything about him is so statue-like, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a beating heart under the cement exterior.
My eyes drift to Theo, seeking contrast. The entire room rearranges itself around him. Time slows and gravity resets.
He’s molded from marble too, but he wears the material differently. It’s volatile on him. Cold stone with hot blood beneath. A volcano always moments from eruption.
Lucas possesses none of that… life . The prickling uncanny valley effect has flared up all three times I’ve interacted with him. Tonight, it’s back with a vengeance.
I can’t shake the chill that twists my stomach at the sight of him.
Catching note of my shudder, Asher leans in. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, drawing my wrap tighter around my shoulders. “All good.”
I’m clearly overreacting. Sienna wouldn’t marry someone fake. She’s too strong, too clever, too stable to fall for anyone who isn’t wholly real .
“ You okay?” I toss his question back at him.
“Yup.” He flashes his trademark grin. “Positively ecstatic.”
Refusing to be fooled by his display of cheer, I raise my eyebrows. “We can go, Ash. Just say the word.”
“No way. I don’t want to miss out on the excitement.”
“Excitement? You’re a much better person than me. If—” My lips clamp shut, but my stupid gaze betrays me, instinctively swinging to the sharp profile across the aisle.
My slip-up doesn’t escape Asher’s keen eye.
“A million dollars to tell me what just flashed through your head,” he coaxes. “In vivid detail, please.”
Hell no. Absolutely not .
Despite our no-secrets policy, there’s no way I’m telling Asher that my brain spun a full-on fantasy of Theo’s wedding day. Decor, cake, a blushing bride—the works.
And I’m especially not admitting that my heart let out a tiny, broken sigh when it realized I wasn’t the one at his side.
“Nothing,” I lie. “Absolutely nothing.”
Who am I to care about Theo’s imaginary bride?
He’s welcome to wed and bed an entire horde of them.
I’m not delusional. We have no future together. After this week of no strings, he’s bound to move on.
Which is exactly what I asked for in our arrangement. Precisely what I told him I wanted.
To have and to leave. Not to have and to hold.
I open my mouth to make some excuse for my brief descent into madness, but the string quartet strikes up a new song, snapping Asher’s attention toward the back of the room.
“Showtime,” he whispers as the doors to the hall burst open.
A hush settles over the crowd. Chairs creak. Spines straighten.
The opening notes of Canon in D float through the air. Then, without warning, the soft sound shifts. The violins tighten, strings scraping with tension as the melody morphs from a marital one to something more martial.
A call to arms. Not toward love.
Sienna steps into view, looking like fire incarnate.
A scarlet ballgown clings to her curves, cascading in a dramatic sweep of silk and satin.
Its bodice is a masterpiece, encrusted with ruby-colored gems that catch the light like smoldering embers.
They glint against the richness of her dark brown skin, amplifying the blaze in her eyes.
Delicate strands of gold filigree weave through her glossy black curls, forming a crown that elevates her commanding presence .
Moving with the intensity of a flame, she advances down the aisle toward Lucas. The room releases a collective gasp, struck by her beauty, her poise, and the sheer force of her presence.
Another sound follows—this one of surprise—as we realize she’s not led by her father, the Honorable Judge Isaiah Sinclair.
No. Sienna is flanked by four men in uniform.
Of the FBI kind.
A thrum of confusion ripples through the audience. It’s like we’ve all been pulled into some surprise play. Sans script. No warning.
I glance at Asher for clarification. “What’s happening?”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. Fingers curled around the Chiavari chair in front of him, he looks ready to charge forward and play knight to Sienna’s queen. His expression is a battlefield of contradiction, mouth wavering between a satisfied smirk and a wrathful sneer.
I’ve never seen Asher this rattled. The guy who always emits the brightest light, often turning the world around him into a joke, now embodies darkness itself.
Darkness aimed directly at his ex’s groom.
Lucas straightens as Sienna walks toward him. Panic flickers in his eyes. His jaw tightens, lips pulling into a thin, rigid line. The mask he’s sporting begins to fragment.
Sienna forges ahead, walking with an assured, leisurely saunter. She’s always been a woman who commands attention, but this feels different.
Grander .
With each step she takes, more emotion leaks through the cracks in Lucas’s polished facade. His gaze narrows, scanning the room before darting toward the exits where agents block every escape route .
That’s when Asher moves. He springs to his feet, slipping through the rows in a silent rush. He posts himself near the front—poised to act the moment Sienna needs him.
Theo moves, too. In a few quick strides, he crosses the aisle and takes his brother’s vacated place. He settles beside me so seamlessly my stupid heart stumbles over itself.
“All good?” he murmurs.
I nod.
“You’re going to go,” Sienna instructs as she reaches Lucas. The velvet tone of her voice contrasts sharply with the authority beneath it. “Quickly and quietly. No words. No scene.”
To my surprise, he obeys, submitting to the escort without a fight. Not that he has much of a choice—no one is reckless enough to take on a team of armed agents.
We watch his departure in stunned silence. As soon as he’s out of view, Sienna turns to face the crowd.
“I know we’re here for a wedding,” she begins, her words carrying through the hall.
“Unfortunately, my fiancé had other plans. I’m grateful for your presence, so let’s pivot.
I’d love for you to stay and enjoy what was supposed to be our reception.
We’ll turn a failed ceremony into one of my family’s classic Christmas Eve parties.
Dinner, dancing, holiday cheer. The best part?
” A faint smile curves her lips. “You don’t have to sit through any boring vows. ”
A wave of nervous laughter slices the tension.
“I’m sure you have many questions,” she continues, her composure never faltering.
“I can’t share any details yet, but I can promise this: my family and I are safe.
And so are you.” She gestures toward one of the exits.
“Through those doors to the food and music!” Concluding her speech, she retreats from the spotlight and out of the room .
The atmosphere shifts. After a few beats, guests loosen their muscles and their lips, relaxing into their seats as conversations spark to life. Concern gives way to something lighter, warmer, and a lot more merry.
I glance up at Theo, and the rest of the world fades to static. My pulse hammers, every nerve tuned to his frequency, thrumming with a single question: Now what?
As if reading my mind, he rises and offers his hand. “Come on. Let’s catch up with Asher and check on Sienna.”
I press my fingers to his waiting palm. “Lead the way.”
My mind is ready. My body is already following.
All I have to do now is hold tight to my heart.