Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
LAINEY
Smoothing my hands down the front of my dress, I tilt my head to the side and stare at my reflection.
I’m not really even focusing on anything.
All I can see is a bunch of white, blurry fabric, pink lips, and my curly blond hair smoothed and twisted into an updo with a white veil to finish the wedding look.
I hate my hair and makeup. They look nothing like me. In fact, I don’t even recognize my own reflection. Maybe that’s a good thing. I’m going into this whole thing as a completely different person. Different last name, different style of clothes, and no job except to be whatever Paul decides.
So maybe I shouldn’t be myself anymore.
I’m really getting married.
It’s real.
I knew it was coming, but it’s here, and now I’m freaking scared. I’ve been full of false bravado for weeks. I agreed to this, demanded it actually, and now I’m wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Because there must be something wrong inside my brain.
Sucking in a breath, I hold it for a moment until my lungs burn and my vision begins to blur slightly. A knock on the door forces my breath out in a single whoosh. Turning my head, I look over my shoulder and watch as my brother makes his way into the room.
Shifting my body around, I directly face him. I’ve got my bouquet of roses in my hand, flowers I would have never picked myself. Even though my name has the word rose in it, I hate the actual flower itself.
Axton flicks his gaze down to said flowers, then lifts it back up to meet mine. “You look absolutely beautiful, Lainey, but those flowers are ugly as fuck.”
My lips twitch into a smile that quickly consumes my face, and for the moment, it’s real. I forget being scared, and I’m just a girl smiling at her brother. But then, in the next second, I remember what will be happening next, and my smile instantly fades…
Because in just a few minutes, I’m going to be married, and that’s real, too. And I’m not going to be married to the only man I’ve ever loved, which is a stupid way to think about things because Gunnar has never and will never make me any promises.
“Are you ready?” he asks. “Fuck,” he hisses. “That’s a stupid fucking question. I’m not ready, I can tell you that much for fucking certain.”
Sinking my teeth into the inside of my cheek, I bite down on a chunk of skin there until I taste the metallic tang of blood. Closing the distance between us, I reach out for my brother. He slips his hands into mine, and I squeeze them gently.
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I whisper.
Images of the past flash before my eyes. Still shots of when we were kids. When he was first a prospect, he was so young, straddling his bike. Then images of my bakery and the guys coming and going for bread and sweets.
And finally, the girls, all of them, my best friends. I’m going to miss them all, and as the seconds tick by, my heart begins to race faster and faster at the thought of never seeing them again.
I thought I could do this. I thought I would be okay with this, and now I’m wondering why I thought any of that at all. I’m a damn fool, just like everyone said I was. Well, maybe they didn’t say it with their words so much, but their eyes did it for them.
They said everything under the sun with their eyes, and I just ignored it all, thinking I knew more than anyone else.
I don’t know shit.
Opening my mouth, I start to tell my brother that I’m sorry and I’ve changed my mind. The blood is roaring, rushing through my ears as I attempt to say the words. But nothing comes out, and then there is another knock on the door.
I flick my gaze to the door, and Axton whips his head around to look over his shoulder at the same door. I watch as it opens, and in walks the wedding planner. She’s wearing a smile, her gaze searching mine, questioning, the way it has been any time she’s been in this room today.
She doesn’t understand what’s happening, and honestly, I’m not sure that I do, either. She seems really confused, and I know that if I were on the outside like her, looking in, I would be thinking about calling my brother to see if he could help this poor bride out—me.
I’m the poor bride.
Except the police are already here, and I’m an adult. I agreed to this, and I need to hold up my end of the bargain.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but Mr. Lorenzo is insistent we start on time.”
Lorenzo. He’s probably sitting up in the front row with the biggest smile on his face. He’s getting everything he wants out of this deal.
Every single thing.
We should be starting on time. She’s not wrong. Because if we don’t start now, I’m afraid I might run, and then all hell is going to break loose. I don’t want that. I don’t want any part of that, and I don’t want it for my brother, either.
I have to remind myself that this is for him. For my family. This is what I agreed to. And I’m going to honor my commitment. I inhale a deep breath and let the air fill my lungs.
Squaring my shoulders, I let the air out after it begins to burn my lungs. Linking my arm in my brother’s, I hold my ugly-as-fuck roses in front of myself and grin, fakely, like an idiot. Axton clears his throat as he begins to take a step forward. I follow beside him.
The wedding planner steps out of the way, holding the door open for us to pass. One step at a time, we walk together until we’re standing in front of the closed sanctuary doors. “You’re shaking,” Axton grinds out. “We can run.”
I almost laugh.
A few minutes ago, I probably would have said let’s go, but I know I can’t. He does, too. Even if he doesn’t want to believe it, he knows it’s the way it needs to be. It’s what’s best for him and Millie. For the club, too. There’s no turning back now. I’m marrying Paul today.
I hear the music before the doors open. I don’t know who actually pulls them open. I can’t see through the netting of my veil. It doesn’t matter anyway. All I can see is Paul at the end of the aisle.
“No running,” I whisper. “This is it.”
As Axton walks beside me, he helps to hold me up so I don’t completely melt into the floor and simply pass out. I don’t know what the hell is waiting for me at the end of the aisle other than me being passed off to Paul, but I’m scared.
Then the aisle is done, we’re at the end, and I’m face-to-face with the man who looks polished and perfect. The man who is going to be my husband. The exact opposite of everything I ever wanted.
My smile can’t be faked. It’s disappeared, and all I can do is stare into this man’s eyes. Thankfully, he’s not smiling either. This is a serious moment, and I’m grateful for it, because there is nothing left inside me to muster up a fake smile right now.
I don’t hear anything except muffled voices, and then Axton places my hand in Paul’s. I didn’t even realize he’d extended his arm. When I slip my hand into his, he curls his fingers around mine, then clears his throat as I take a step forward.
My breathing starts coming out in hard, quick pants. Everything is a blur… my movements, my words, his words. Nothing makes sense, but I do what I’m told to do, repeat what I’m told to repeat.
VIKING
The sight in front of me is not one I could have ever guessed I’d come across. Three women sit beside three men, one of them Shocker. They all wince as soon as the sunlight shines on their faces.
“What the fuck?” I demand.
“What the fuck is right,” Shocker grinds out.
The women don’t seem scared of the guys at all. In fact, all three of them curl up next to a man. Two prospects and Shocker, just as Scar said. And then I realize that Scar is still on the phone, but only when he mimics all of our what the fucks.
“Those fucks for the Front Mob Family were dirty as shit. They feigned engine trouble, and when we stopped, they ambushed us, threw us in here, and stole our fucking bikes.”
Scar and I are both speechless.
A man’s bike, that’s like stealing a woman, but then when my gaze flicks to the women sitting beside Shocker, Flop, and Screamer, I realize that they would fucking take women.
There is no way in hell these girls are here voluntarily.
They’ve got tearstained faces and are trembling as they sit in nothing but their goddamn underwear.
“The keys in the cab?” Shocker asks.
“Absolutely fucking not. When did this shit go down?” I demand.
He looks to one of the prospects, and then they all shift their gazes back to meet mine. I arch a brow, waiting for an answer. Shocker jerks his chin toward me and asks what time it is now. I don’t answer because I’ve got my phone out and facing them on the FaceTime shit, but Scar does answer.
“It’s four in the afternoon,” Scar announces.
“Fuck,” Flop hisses. “We’ve been in this fucking box since noon.”
Thank fuck I found them. I can’t imagine how long they would be stuck in here if I hadn’t been trying to run away from my problems, then turn around and haul ass back to them.
We got six people here, and only one of them can go on the back of my bike, which I would only let a woman do, and since all three of these women are only wearing underwear, that won’t be happening.
Not with the distance we have to ride to get back to the clubhouse.
“Fuck is right. I can get one of the trucks and head your way, but it’s going to be at least two hours before I get there, and that’s with speeding,” he calls out.
Shaking my head, I clear my throat because I do not want to sit here for hours while we get everyone a ride back to the clubhouse, and since Scar is the only one around, that’s what it would take.
“I can hot-wire a box truck,” Flop announces. “As long as a few of you are good with riding back here on the way home. Only two passengers can come up front.”
“And none in a bra without raising suspicion,” I add.
At least that line garners a little laughter from the people who have been stuck in the back of a truck all fucking afternoon. Flop climbs out of the truck, then I watch as he walks around to the cab. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, so at least I didn’t have to break into anything.
I let him do his thing while I help Shocker get down. There is no way he can ride back there with his hips and knees. I decide without discussing it, and nobody bitches that he’s going to be the one in the cab with Flop.
“Okay, I’ll follow the truck back, and then we can figure out what the fuck is actually going on,” I say as I turn the phone around so that I’m face-to-face with Scar.
He jerks his chin to the camera, then reminds me to keep vigilant before he ends the call. Shifting my focus back to the people who are still in the truck, I can’t believe this shit happened—and today.
“They were the Front Mob Family for sure?”
Shocker chuckles, then shakes his head a couple of times before his gaze flicks to meet mine. “Brother, Paul was with them when they showed up at the clubhouse. I don’t know what kind of shit this is or what they’re trying to pull, but it’s not fucking cool.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. “And she’s marrying him right fucking now.”