Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Max wore the tux he'd bought years earlier for the award functions his newspaper insisted he attend.
He'd never cared much for the awards he'd won.
The only thing that ever mattered to him was the story.
Now, here he was, in the middle of the biggest story of his life, and the tux was out of the closet again. It seemed fitting, somehow.
"You okay?" Rodrigo put a hand on his shoulder.
They were standing under a flower covered arch at the end of a white sandy path, between two sets of wooden chairs decked in white silk and adorned with more flowers.
Behind them, the sparkling blue of the sea made for a stunning backdrop.
Only a line of dark gray on the horizon broke the perfection.
A storm was coming, and it felt like an omen.
"I know it's fake," Max told the best man he barely knew. "But it feels real. Weirdly, I wasn't this nervous last time I got married."
"I hear some professional actors feel the same way when they have to work a wedding scene," Rodrigo said with a smile. "I think it's the weight of the occasion. It's hard not to feel it."
"Yeah." Max nodded. "That must be it." He took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands. "Or fear Violet won't turn up."
Rodrigo chuckled. "Knowing Violet, I'd say that's a possibility. Noah worked with her in London for years and he says she's always done her own thing, and she doesn't make any excuses for it either."
A memory of Violet in bed the night before flashed in Max's mind. No, she had no problem doing what she wanted, or taking what she needed. It was sexy as hell. Now, the only question was—did she want to turn up for the ceremony? His stomach churned with uncertainty, and he wiped his palms again.
Rodrigo saw the movement. "How about I get you some more water? It's hot out here."
"That would be good," Max said, his eyes on Violet's nieces, who were taking photos of the wedding photographer. He grinned as they posed in front of him, turning him into a backdrop for their selfies. His sisters would have enjoyed hanging out with those two. Pity they weren't there.
He shook his head. The heat was definitely getting to him if he was thinking crazy things like his family should be present. The last thing they needed was for more people they loved to be on the island, and on the radar of a monster like Damien.
Rodrigo handed him a bottle of water from the cooler nearby and Max gulped it down.
"Don't worry," Violet's dad said from a seat in the front row. "She'll be here. Lee women like to make an entrance."
"And Patterson women," Poppy chimed in.
"You're all Lee women," her grandfather said.
"Thanks for wiping out my lineage with one sentence," Harvey said cheerfully before addressing Max.
"You realize that once you've married into this family, you will forever be considered a Lee, to hell with your actual name.
You sure you want to risk your heritage?
This lot have a way of swallowing other cultures whole. "
Max grinned. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."
Actually, it sounded kinda nice. He'd barely known his first wife's family.
Looking back, he suspected they never thought the marriage would last and it turned out they were right.
Whereas here was Violet's family, laying claim to him when they barely knew him, just because they thought he was Violet's choice.
"I'm telling you," Harvey continued. "It isn't a family, it's a cult. Once they have you, there's no getting free."
"Oh, I don't know," Samuel said to his son-in-law, "I've thought of cutting you loose a time or two."
Harvey barked a belly laugh. "No, you haven't. Who would you talk to when they all go crazy discussing flowers or fashion or some random Korean TV show that makes no sense?"
Samuel looked at Max, resigned. "He's right. We're like the mob. Once you're in, the only way out is in a casket."
Max appreciated they were trying to keep his mind off his nerves as he waited for his bride. Only, he shouldn't have had any nerves. He should have been calm and focused on the mission, aware the ceremony was a small part of the job. Yet his palms were sweating again, and it wasn't from the heat.
He glanced to the path running up to the resort buildings.
They were only a few minutes away from the main area, but the little cove felt secluded and private.
Max couldn't help wondering what kind of ceremony they'd have chosen if he'd really been marrying Violet.
He'd bet it wouldn't have happened on a beach.
No, Violet would probably have wanted to seal the deal during her lunch hour, probably at the local courthouse, and no one they knew would have been invited.
He was smiling at the thought when movement caught his eye.
His breath hitched as he saw Violet's mother escort Lian down the path to sit beside Samuel.
She smiled his way before gesturing to Poppy and Marigold to take their seats.
They squealed with delight before plopping in behind the rest of the family.
Max cast a glance at the chairs on the other side of the aisle, where his family should have been, and wondered why it felt wrong that they weren't there.
For a moment, with his mind's eye, he saw his sisters sitting excitedly beside their new teen relatives.
Then his mother and father, proud in the front row. He blinked and the image was gone.
"We need to spread out," Harvey said loudly. "Girls, we're heading to the other side."
The teens hurried across the aisle and sat in the front row.
Harvey slid in behind them. Marigold gave him two thumbs up as Jasmine rushed down the sandy aisle to sit beside Harvey.
She tucked her arm in his and beamed widely.
Next to arrive was Katrina, who floated towards them with a smile and a little bouquet of cream and white flowers in her hand.
She took up her position opposite Max and, as one, they all turned to watch the bride arrive.
And there she was.
Max sucked in a breath as the whole messy event narrowed to just one person.
Violet.
She was dressed in the pants and vest he'd bought for her, and they fitted like a glove.
Her hair was a silken waterfall, smooth and straight down her back, the black hues in stark contrast to the white of her clothes.
And in her hand was a large bouquet of beautiful blooms, none of which compared to her.
Over to the side of the seated area, the guitarist started to play the song Max had told the wedding planner to use for Violet's walk toward him.
The one he'd picked the night before and called her about that morning.
She hadn't been pleased with the last-minute change, but Max had insisted. He was glad he did.
As the singer raised his voice, in a rendition of Alicia Keys' Girl On Fire, Violet started her walk toward him. Of course, she walked alone. His Violet would never let another man give her away because she belonged to no one. But, if you were lucky, she might share herself with you.
In that moment, Max felt so lucky he was lightheaded.
It's all fake.
The voice in his head was small and barely noticeable. Because nothing about this felt fake.
Nothing.
Not the welcoming family. Not friends watching on. And especially not the woman walking toward him.
Hell.
He was in so much trouble.
Violet almost wished she'd asked her father to walk her down the aisle.
At least that way she could have hidden behind him.
With everyone looking at her, and the photographer taking pictures, she felt like she was naked in church.
The rings Lian had given her were burning a hole in her pocket.
With each step she took, they rubbed together, and she swore she could hear the sound they made.
It was a musical whisper repeating liar, liar, liar, liar…
Her gaze swept over the emotional faces of her family, saw the pride in her father's eyes, the tears in her mother's, and the excitement burning bright in her nieces. So much hope and joy.
And she was lying to all of them.
Her steps faltered at the thought, and she hoped people would blame it on her trying to walk in the sand. The bouquet in her hands felt heavy and out of place. The welcoming expression on the face of the officiant, standing under the arch, seemed to mock her.
This was wrong.
She shouldn't be doing this.
Her family would be devastated when she told them it was all a lie. Her honor would be impugned. She'd never be able to hold her head high again. All because of a job.
And then her gaze fell on Max.
She saw the heat in his eyes, and felt his knowing smile like a cool breeze on her skin.
Yes. He got it. He understood. They were in this confusing mess together.
And knowing that gave her strength. As she watched, he reached out a hand, offering his support, silently telling her it would all be okay.
She desperately wanted to believe him.
Taking a deep breath, Violet straightened her shoulders and strode toward him, as the song the singer sang began to register.
Girl On Fire?
Her eyebrow shot up as her cheeks burned. Max's smile widened. Suddenly she saw him, under her in bed whispering that she was setting him ablaze. Telling her she burned him up. Telling her he loved it.
She saw his eyes darken with the knowledge she understood the message of the song. And she did. It wasn't just about sex. It was about him, telling her, he liked her heat, her fierceness, her strength. The song was a gift she held close. One she knew she would never talk about, not even with Max.
When she reached him, she clutched the bouquet in one hand and took his outstretched hand with the other.
"Girl On Fire?" she whispered. "A bit much, don't you think?"
"I think it's nowhere near enough," he said with a mysterious smile that made her heart stutter.
"We're going to hell for this," Violet said, her mouth dry and her palms wet.
"Then we go together," Max whispered.