Chapter 15
The wedding day arrived.
The atmosphere was vibrant. Everyone was all smiles. Yet amid the celebration, the bride stood apart. Her hands trembled with a chill that no warmth could quell.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror inside her hotel room, Olivia looked breathtakingly beautiful in her pristine white gown.
Despite every detail of the wedding unfolding perfectly, just as any bride dreams it should, she found herself unable to muster a smile.
“You look lovely, Dr. Hilton,” her maid of honor beamed at her. “You are lucky to be marrying the most sought-after bachelor in town.”
Lucky? Olivia wanted to laugh. She could think of a word to describe her situation, but it certainly wasn’t “lucky.” Trapped, suffocated, or even doomed might be more fitting.
Just then, the door creaked open, and Mrs. Hilton floated into the room, wearing a magnificent mauve ombre gown. She looked every bit the star of the day. Olivia couldn’t help but think that had it been white, people could easily mistake her adoptive mother for the bride.
“Olivia, it's time.”
Those three words made her shake even more, but she forced herself to get up and smile like it was the happiest day of her life.
She fell into step with her adoptive mother as they made their way to the driveway where the bridal car awaited. The chauffeur opened the door, and Olivia sank into the soft leather seat.
The car smoothly cruised down the highway, heading to the place where everyone, including the groom, was waiting.
The streets passed by in a blur of colors. Olivia could see people walking on the sidewalks, smiling, living their normal lives. They looked so free while she felt so confined, as if the walls of her life were closing in tighter with every minute.
Suddenly, a red light made the bridal car stop, and for one wild moment, her hand reached for the door handle, ready to flee from everything that made her feel suffocated.
She could do it. Just push the door open, gather her skirts, and run.
Run where? The question mocked her.
She had nowhere else to go.
Her only chance of running away slipped away like sand through her fingers when the light turned green.
Soon enough, the Cathedral appeared in the distance. Olivia's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't ready.
The car slowed, tires crunching on the gravel of the driveway. The chauffeur opened the car door, letting in the sound of church bells.
She slowly got out and walked forward. The heavy wooden doors opened wide, and organ music filled the Cathedral.
Everyone rose from their seats, turning to look at her with awe and appreciation in their eyes.
Mrs. Hilton sat first in the first row on the left side of the Cathedral, a satisfied smile gracing her burgundy lips. It was, after all, the wedding she had always envisioned for her beloved daughter, Caroline. Olivia was just a placeholder in this whole charade.
In the first row on the right side, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford radiated smiles that melted the chill in Olivia's heart. For the first time since she woke up this morning, she smiled. It was a smile she truly meant.
The next thing Olivia knew, Mr. Hilton was beside her, taking her arm. They gracefully walked down the red carpet that led to the altar.
Through her veil, she caught a glimpse of her groom, the man her fourteen-year-old self had once foolishly fallen in love with and still adored to this day.
He looked drop-dead gorgeous in his black suit. And at that moment, Olivia could have sworn that half of the bachelorettes who graced the ceremony wished they were the bride, for Clayton Bradford, in every sense of the word, was every girl's dream.
When his eyes met hers, they shimmered with an unsettling intensity, red-rimmed and glistening, as if he were on the brink of tears.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, a wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her as she fought back her own tears.
Finally, they reached the altar.
Mr. Hilton gently placed her hands in the groom's, an act that felt both tender and terrifying.
The warmth of Clayton's palm sent shivers down her spine, igniting a thousand conflicting emotions.
The priest began to speak solemnly. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."
Olivia stood perfectly still, like a porcelain doll, her surroundings fading into a blur as she mentally retreated, aware that she had lost the chance to run away when she let him take her hand.
She lost track of time and was surprised to find that it was time to announce their vows. Olivia struggled to find her voice at first, but she was able to calm herself in time to say the words.
“I, Olivia, take you, Clayton Bradford…” she poured every ounce of sincerity into the words, even though he would never know the depth of her feelings. When she finished the vow, she gently slid the ring onto his finger.
"I, Clayton, take you, Olivia Hilton…”
Olivia had steeled herself to hear only cold indifference. After all, he was just as trapped in this marriage as she was, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if his vows felt scripted, devoid of any genuine emotion, for he clearly had no feelings for his bride.
However, the warmth she heard in his voice when he spoke made her pause.
“I vow to stand by your side in joy and in sorrow, in laughter and in tears. With every beat of my heart, I promise to love you deeply and unconditionally, and I promise to always choose you above everyone else, today and every day that follows.”
Clayton slipped the ring onto her finger, and she resigned herself to a life with him. This might not be the love she had always imagined, but maybe with time, she would be able to teach him how to love her, even a little.
The priest lifted his hands. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Clayton leaned in. He cupped her face gently and kissed her. It was a kiss that was both hard and gentle. Olivia felt as if time had frozen still. His lips were soft against hers, sending shivers through her body. But just as quickly as it began, the kiss was over.
—
Later that night, in the honeymoon suite, Olivia stood by the window, watching the city lights.
The room felt icy, but the negligee she wore did little to protect her from the cold. She hugged her arms around herself, trying to trap some heat, and that's when the sound of water in the bathroom stopped.
She turned her head just in time to see Clayton step out of the bathroom. He was bare-chested, his skin glistening from the steam. He wore only boxer briefs that hugged him just right.
Olivia swallowed deeply.
She had always known he was fit from his training, but she hadn't realized how truly sculpted his body was. It was as if an artist had taken great care to carve every inch of him with mighty hands.
The image of warriors and Greek gods she had seen before could not compare to the reality standing in front of her.
He crossed the room with predatory grace, and despite everything, Olivia's breath caught in her throat.
She turned back to the window to calm the fluttering in her stomach. He didn’t say anything as he reached out and brushed a finger along her delicate shoulder.
The gentle touch made her skin tingle.
Gently, he turned her to face him. Then he leaned down, capturing her lips with his. The kiss started slowly but quickly deepened.
With deliberate care, Clayton lifted her into his arms.
Olivia squeezed her eyes shut when he carried her to the plush bed. This man was now her husband, and she had to fulfill her role as his wife. Finally, she abandoned her doubts and inhibitions and clung to him as if her life depended on it.
Just for this fleeting moment, Olivia allowed herself to believe in a fantasy—that he truly loved her in a way that she had always wanted to be loved.