Chapter 13（part 2）
The week leading up to the wedding was a complete blur of silk, cake tastings, and absolute chaos.
Or, as Grandmother Eleanor called it: "A minor logistical operation."
True to her word, Eleanor had taken complete control of the wedding preparations, and Mia had eagerly appointed herself as the General's right-hand woman in the war room of wedding planning.
I spent most of those days functioning as a highly dressed, very confused mannequin.
"Stand straight, Grace!" Mia ordered around a mouthful of pins as she knelt beside me. "If you slouch, the French lace will bunch up at the waist."
"I am standing straight," I complained, looking at my reflection in the massive mirror of Eleanor's private dressing room.
"I just don't understand how one dress can be this heavy."
"Because it is royalty, my dear," Eleanor said, sipping her tea from a velvet armchair across the room.
"The Reeves women do not do 'simple'. We do 'unforgettable'."
I looked at myself again.
The dress was, without a doubt, a masterpiece.
It was a long-sleeved, high-necked gown made of delicate ivory lace that hugged my waist perfectly before flowing into a modest but stunning train. It was elegant.
It was breathtaking.
It was also completely terrifying.
"Do you think he'll like it?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Mia paused, looking up at me with a wicked grin.
"The General? Oh, honey. He is going to need a medic."
"Mia!"
"She is absolutely right," Eleanor agreed smoothly, setting her teacup down.
"My grandson may act as though he is made of stone and military protocol, but he is still a man. When he sees you, Grace, he will remember why he has a pulse."
My face burned so fiercely I was surprised the lace didn't catch fire.
The rest of the week passed in a haze of medical checks for my dad-who, thank God, was maintaining a perfectly stable blood pressure under Eleanor's strict "zero stress" policy-and endless security briefings.
Because marrying a General meant you didn't just get a wedding planner. You got Ethan.
Colonel Ethan Brooks had practically moved into our house to coordinate the "secure transport" of my father and me to the registry.
"Miss Zane," Ethan had said one afternoon, handing me a ridiculously thick dossier.
"This is the schedule for Saturday. Down to the minute. Please memorize your designated extraction times."
"Extraction times?" I had blinked at him. "Ethan, it's a wedding, not a hostage rescue.
" Ethan had remained completely deadpan.
"With respect, ma'am, securing a high-value target-which is you-requires precision."
I had just sighed and taken the folder.
And now, suddenly, the week was over.
Saturday morning arrived with bright, clear skies.
I stood in the private waiting room of the national registry office.
The building had been entirely locked down.
No press. No public access.
Just heavily armed military police stationed at every door, looking intimidating enough to scare off a small army.
I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
My hair was pinned up in an elegant, soft bun, with a few curled strands framing my face.
The dress fit perfectly.
The custom diamond ring Alexander had given me caught the light, sparkling fiercely.
I looked like a bride.
A real bride.
"You look beautiful, Gracie," my dad said softly from the doorway.
He was dressed in a sharp black suit, looking healthier and happier than he had in months.
Tears immediately pricked my eyes. "Dad..."
"No crying," he warned gently, walking over to take my hands. "Or Eleanor will have my head for ruining your makeup."
I let out a watery laugh. "She probably would."
"Daniel Zane is not afraid of many things," Dad smiled, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, "but that woman is a force of nature."
He grew serious, looking at me with so much love my heart ached.
"I am so proud of the woman you've become, Grace. And I know... I know your mother is looking down today, smiling at her beautiful girl."
A single tear escaped, sliding down my cheek.
"I wish she was here."
"She is," Dad whispered, kissing my forehead.
"Always." Before we could drown in our emotions, the heavy wooden door swung open.
Mia burst in, wearing a stunning emerald green dress, looking completely frantic.
"Okay, extraction time is in two minutes!" she announced, waving her hands.
"The officiant is ready. The security sweep is clear. And the General is currently standing at the front of the room looking like he's about to declare war on the registry office because you are sixty seconds late."
I took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Let's go."
Dad offered me his arm. I took it, holding my small bouquet of white peonies tightly in my other hand.
We walked out of the waiting room and down the long, quiet corridor.
Two military guards opened the heavy double doors at the end of the hall. The room was small, elegant, and completely private.
Eleanor sat in the front row, dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
Richard sat beside her, beaming proudly. Ethan stood rigidly near the back, observing the room with hawkish precision.
My moms sister whom I invited at the last minute was sitting closely behind them
And then... there was Alexander. He stood at the front of the room. He wasn't wearing his military uniform today.
Instead, he wore a flawlessly tailored, pitch-black tuxedo.
The harsh, intimidating lines of his broad shoulders were softened slightly by the elegance of the suit, but his dominating aura filled every single inch of the room.
He looked devastating.
When the doors opened, his gray eyes immediately found mine.
He didn't smile. He didn't move.
But as my dad and I walked down the short aisle, I saw his jaw clench tight. His chest rose with a slow, deep breath, and his eyes...
His eyes never left me.
They were intense. Burning.
They stripped away the nervous, timid girl I was and made me feel like the only person in the entire world.
When we reached the front, my dad placed my hand into Alexander's.
Alexander's large, warm hand closed around mine.
His grip was firm, grounding me instantly.
"You look..." Alexander paused, his deep voice barely a rumble.
"...acceptable." I blinked, my nervousness vanishing instantly as a bubble of entirely inappropriate laughter rose in my throat.
"Acceptable?" I whispered back, raising an eyebrow.
The tiniest, almost invisible smirk touched the corner of his lips.
"Stunning," he corrected quietly, for my ears only.
"You look stunning." My heart did a violent flip.
The officiant cleared his throat, and the ceremony began.
It was quick. Professional. Exactly what you would expect from a court marriage.
But as we stood there, holding hands, listening to the legal vows we had agreed to, the reality of what was happening settled heavily over me.
"Do you, Alexander Reeves, take Grace Zane to be your lawfully wedded wife?"
Alexander didn't hesitate. "I do."
"And do you, Grace Zane, take Alexander Reeves to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
I looked up at him. At this terrifying, powerful man who had cleared his schedule to have dinner with my sick father. Who held my hand like he would never let go. "I do," I said, my voice steady.
The officiant smiled. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." I held my breath.
This was the moment.
The kiss. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. But the officiant simply closed his book and said, "You may now sign the registry."
I froze.
Wait. What? "You may kiss the bride" had been completely removed from the script.
I glanced at Alexander.
His face was entirely unreadable as he turned toward the table to sign the documents.
He had arranged this.
He had specifically asked them to remove the kiss to protect my boundaries.
To make sure I didn't feel forced or uncomfortable in front of our families.
A massive wave of relief washed over me.
It was so incredibly thoughtful. So respectful.
But... As I watched his broad back while he signed the paper... a tiny, completely illogical part of my heart sank.
He didn't want to kiss me.
Of course he didn't.
This was a business transaction for him. A way to appease his grandmother.
He was thirty-two years old, worldly, and experienced. I was just twenty-two, awkward, and timid.
I pushed the sudden, foolish sadness down and plastered a bright smile on my face as I stepped forward to sign my name.
Grace Reeves.
It felt strange. Heavy. Permanent.
The moment the ink dried, Eleanor was out of her seat.
"Oh, my beautiful children!" she cried, pulling me into a fierce hug.
"Welcome to the family, my darling."
"Thank you, Grandmother," I smiled, hugging her back. She pulled away and smacked Alexander sharply on the arm with her fan.
"And you! Not even a kiss for your beautiful bride? Are you a statue or a husband?"
Alexander didn't even flinch.
"Protocol, Grandmother. This is a government office."
"Protocol my foot," Eleanor huffed. "Ethan! Tell this block of ice to show some affection."
Ethan, who was standing a few feet away, went entirely stiff.
He looked between the terrifying General he served and the terrifying Grandmother he feared.
"Ma'am," Ethan said smoothly, his eyes fixed firmly on the wall behind us. "I am not authorized to issue romantic directives to a commanding officer."
Mia burst out laughing. "Good answer, Ethan. Very diplomatic."
"Cowards, all the military men," Eleanor grumbled, but she was smiling.
My dad walked over and pulled me into a tight hug.
"I love you, Gracie."
"I love you too, Dad."
"Daniel," Richard said warmly, clamping a hand on my dad's shoulder.
"Let's head to the estate. The chefs have been preparing the dinner since dawn."
The families began to filter out of the room, leaving Alexander and me standing alone near the registry table.
The silence between us stretched. "Are you alright?" he asked suddenly.
I looked up at him.
"Yes. I'm fine." He studied my face, those sharp gray eyes missing absolutely nothing.
He stepped slightly closer, invading my personal space.
"You looked disappointed when the officiant skipped the kiss."
My face instantly went up in flames. "I did not!" I gasped, horrified. "I was... I was just surprised! I thought he forgot the line!"
Alexander watched my panicked, rambling excuse with a calm, unblinking stare. He reached out.
His large, calloused hand gently cupped the side of my face.
His thumb brushed lightly over my cheekbone, sending a jolt of electricity straight down my spine.
"If I had kissed you in front of them, Grace," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble that made my knees weak, "it would not have been a brief, polite peck." I stopped breathing.
His eyes darkened as they flicked down to my lips, then back up to my wide eyes. "And I prefer to keep my private affairs... private."
He dropped his hand, turned smoothly, and walked toward the door.
"Come along, Mrs. Reeves. We have a dinner to attend." I stood frozen in the middle of the room, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
I pressed a trembling hand to my burning cheek.
Oh. Oh my.
I quickly grabbed the skirt of my heavy lace dress and hurried after my husband, completely terrified of the fact that I was already falling for him.