“That’s too bad. I’m looking for information.” I glance down, realizing I still have the glass clutched in my hand and I bring it to my mouth, draining the last of it. “About Charlotte and her first—love.”
I choke on the last word. Did she love him?
Maybe I don’t want to know.
“Sir.” I glance over to find Jasper watching me with concern in his gaze. “You do realize our Miss Charlotte has had her heart broken by everyone she’s ever loved.”
A thread of misery courses through me at the implication of his statement.
“It would be a shame if you broke her heart too,” he finishes, clamping his lips together. Almost as if he’s said too much, which he sort of has.
His words make me feel like shit, when they shouldn’t. I’m the one who was betrayed here. Someone’s keeping secrets, and it’s not me.
“I don’t plan on breaking her heart,” I say firmly.
And I mean it. Our hearts aren’t involved in this marriage endeavor.
“If you say so, sir.” Jasper inclines his head in my direction, but I can tell.
He doesn’t believe me.
That pisses me off even more.
“Well, I’ve gotta go, Jasper old chap.” I walk up to him, slapping him on the shoulder. “I have a wedding to attend. Mine.”
“I’ll call Mrs. Constantine and let her know you’re on your way.”
“There’s no need. She knows I’m coming.” I shake my head and drop the glass on a nearby table, not giving a shit when I hear it fall on its side and roll onto the floor.
I’m out the door before Jasper can do or say a damn thing. By the time I’m in the parking garage, climbing into my car, I realize I’ve been chuckling the entire time.
It’s either I laugh or fall into a complete rage. I don’t know what’s worse.
I pull out of the garage, the tires squealing when I turn onto the street. I don’t like being made a fool of. I’ve endured that sort of treatment from my family for most of my life, and while it’s complete bullshit and I hate it, I also tolerate it because it’s my family. My brother. My mother.
I’m not going to tolerate my future wife making me look like a damn fool.
And I sure as hell am not going to let a Morelli get away with it either.
Chapter Three
Charlotte
“Don’t move!”
I go completely still as one of the stylists Mother hired for the day squats behind me and fluffs my train, making sure it’s spread completely out across the floor. I turn my head in tiny increments, glancing over my shoulder to check the silk and lace, sucking in a breath when I see it.
The train is absolutely beautiful, trimmed in such intricate lace. The dress is gorgeous too. I feel like a queen, which was what I wanted, and now that I’m completely made up, trussed up and clutching a giant bouquet made of various flowers, including bloodred- and cream-colored roses, I’m a little in shock the moment is finally here.
“Oh my goodness, darling. You’re a vision.”
I glance up to find my mother watching me, her eyes filled with tears as she clutches her hands just below her chin. “Don’t make me cry,” I warn her, not wanting to ruin the makeup that took the artist almost two hours to apply.
When I looked in the mirror after he was through, I almost didn’t recognize myself. Pretty sure Perry won’t recognize me either. I look like a different person. I feel like one too.
This entire day so far has been completely surreal.
We’re waiting for the ceremony to start. I’m hidden away in a tiny room made just for brides-to-be and her wedding party to stay in. I can hear the delicate strains of music playing in the gardens, coming from the string quartet Mother hired to perform. The low murmurs of conversation. People are waiting for my arrival and my stomach cramps with nerves.