As we near the end of the aisle, I spot the wedding planner waiting for us, an anxious expression on her face. Once we’re close enough, she starts talking.
“Photos, you two! We need lots of lots of photos and we must get started,” Miranda says firmly as she steers us back into the small room where I waited for the ceremony only minutes before. “Let the crowd trickle out and then we’ll start the session.”
She shoves us into the room and shuts the door in my face before I can even utter a word. Leaving me all alone with my groom.
My husband.
Slowly I turn to face him, my train getting twisted around my legs. He’s checking his phone—actually checking his phone rather than looking at me and telling me I’m the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, which I would really love to hear right about now.
“What are you doing? I ask, my voice soft. My emotions turbulent.
“Taking care of business,” he answers.
He doesn’t even look up from his phone. Not once.
A flicker of annoyance makes my eye twitch.
“It’s our wedding day,” I remind him, letting my irritation show.
“And this marriage is part of business, am I right?” His gaze lifts to mine, as if daring me to deny his statement.
I stare back at him, my throat going dry. At a complete loss over what to say.
“I have a question for you.” He returns his attention to his phone once more, not waiting for my reply. “Was this meeting between you and McTiernan earlier—planned?”
I gape at him, shock coursing through my blood, chilling me to the bone. “What?Of course it wasn’t.”
“Really.” His stormy gaze meets mine and I can see the doubt there. He doesn’t believe me.
Will he ever?
Chapter Four
Perry
It is absolutetorture, continuously posing next to Charlotte, putting on a smiling face for the photographer, Susan. The same woman who took our engagement photos, and she’s just as enthusiastic as the last time we were with her. She’s directing the entire wedding party and our families to move here, move there, smile wider, smile brighter, look up, look down. Readjusting our positions, our poses.
It’s endless.
None of it seems to bother my bride. Charlotte is absolutely serene. Calm and quiet and doing exactly what she’s asked to do, no complaints, no obvious nerves showing, which is the complete opposite of her behavior when we had our engagement photos taken only what…a month ago? Six weeks?
It’s astounding, the transformation.
Charlotte’s posture is perfect, her skin glowing and her smile is as natural as I think I’ve ever seen it. As if she’s happy to be doing this. Happy to finally be married to me.
While I’m over here stewing in my own shit, still confused by the sudden appearance from her supposed first lover. A man who is not-so-distantly related to the goddamn Morellis.
I can’t believe he’s the man she was with in Paris. The one who broke her heart and treated her like discarded trash. I wish I could ask her more questions, but it’s not like I can bring it up in the middle of the photo session documenting our marriage, for Christ’s sake.
The timing of his appearance is suspicious though.
After I asked if their earlier run-in was planned, we didn’t bring him up again. I suppose I could’ve asked more questions, but I was afraid I’d get too angry. So we remained in that little room Miranda the dictator/wedding planner shoved us into while our wedding guests cleared out. We were all alone, the two of us eyeing each other warily after I was such a shit to her.
After our silent stare down, Charlotte finally asked one single question.
“Can you help me with my train?”
I, of course, assisted her with it, all the while thinking of her with another man. Kissing him. Touching him. Pressing her naked body against his. Letting him slide inside of her snug—