4
Mecca
My wedding day came in a rush, crashing into me hard enough to knock me on my wanna-be tough ass. The date was set a few weeks ago. After several short meet ups and phone conversations between my future husband and me, we confirmed that we would be married on a Friday, the last day in June.
Why was I so nervous now that the day had arrived? I had agreed to this with a smile, certain it was necessary to elevate me, and the status of the Black Saints.
Arjen had given me what I had asked for, the big expensive wedding at a large venue, surrounded by a bunch of stuck up people I didn’t know. The venue we settled on was called Sevens, located in an area that paid homage to the mountains.
The view from any place inside the glass castle-like building atop one of the peeks was a majestic masterpiece. The slopes and valleys surrounding us sang a chorus of sweet nothings to the eyes, shimmered against your peripheral, and dragged your mind into the everchanging pictures they produced.
The view was a rolling portrait that changed with such slight ease, you were reluctant to turn away for fear you would miss something. The energetic clouds reached to cover the peeks, creating optical illusions. The rise and fall of the landscape, and the way the mountains appeared to billow in the distance like they were adrift on an ocean of flowing rock was enough to steal your breath.
The infinite number of floral arrangements of every size and shape made the venue a garden paradise of fragrant scents and provided even more beauty to feast the eyes on. The sheer volume of blue and white flowers was a stunning sight that breathed life into every path. Flowers were affixed to parts of the glass walls and stood as the centerpieces on guest’s table.
Arjen had done well. The food and entire set-up had surpassed my wildest dreams. It wasn’t until I had arrived did I consider the amount of work it had taken to transform the place that was empty a few days ago into a living paradise.
The workers buzzed about making sure everything was perfect. I noticed the guests’ awed faces as they entered and mingled. Some took seats while others pointed out the elegance of the gift laden place settings. There were those who were captivated by the views, snapped photos, and admired the surprises inside the giftboxes set at each of their seats.
Now, inside my dressing room without the view outside distracting me, the notion that I was about to become a wife began to settle in. Since the place was nearly all glass, the dressing room’s wall panels smoked when the door closed to provide privacy. Hundreds of multi-colored blue roses had also been affixed to the walls as an extra layer of privacy.
Desiree and Patrena were my guardian angels, floating around the room, taking care of me like I was a queen. They had done everything except put my lingerie on, and I’d had trouble getting into it. I was never like this, jittery and uncertain.
“It’s pre-wedding jitters. I heard everyone gets them,” Patrena stated, staring with a touch of amusement flashing in her eyes. Desiree’s light strokes brushed away some of the tension from my hunched shoulders. Her face was fixed with a teasing smirk as she leaned closer to capture my stressed gaze.
“I was a hot mess on my wedding day, and it wasn’t wedding jitters. I was about to marry a man I didn’t love. I think that’s what’s wrong with you. You don’t love Arjen. But…”
Her brow lifted into a deep arch.
“I thought you wanted this marriage?”
“I did. I do. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”
I couldn’t shake the heavy coat of dread toying with me and forcing me to question my decision. I’d had guns aimed at my face and not reacted like this. Hell, I’d been shot, and it wasn’t like this.
My eyes closed, and I pinched them tightly before taking deep calming breaths, meditating, and calling up all the reasons this wedding was necessary. It was time I gave myself an internal pep talk.
“Snap out of it, bitch! Not only are you about to marry a Vallin, but you’re also marrying into a criminal organization that some would kill to be in. You’re on the path to becoming one of the best boss-bitches in charge.”
At those words, a sneaky smile bent my lips into a deep, cheek-lifting grin.
“And there she is,” Desiree said, her smile brightening. She knew me better than anyone. Knew that when shit was hitting the fan, I kept my cool.
I slipped my feet into silver platform pumps that were like two shiny machine guns under my feet. I stood, smoothing down my white off-the-shoulder dress with the illusion back lace that was shaped to my body like a caressing hug. The intricate pattern was adorned with diamonds, making my dress one of the most expensive items at the wedding.
When the wedding planner had supplied the dress book, and even when I had gone to the fitting, they were adamant about not discussing price. It was a rule my future husband had set in place and one that I loved.
However, I had overheard the wedding planner talking to the shop owner who had given her the price. The hundred thousand dollar price tag had shown me that Arjen wasn’t sparing any expense.
The image staring back at me in the mirror lifted the last of my stress as it reflected a beautiful woman I didn’t even recognize. Radiance that had never graced me before shined through as every part of me gave off an unexpected glow.
Patrena stepped closer, draping me in a big tight hug. She helped women who found themselves in domestic abuse situations, so she had me on speed dial whenever she was met with an aggressive husband, or boyfriend that decided to show up to threaten her or one of her clients.
The list of women I called friends was a small one, but Patrena was at the top of it. She wasn’t catty, didn’t run her mouth, and her name never came up in any type of shit. She was the kind of person that was there when you needed her. It had taken years for her to get there, but she had become one of a few people I would go to hell for.
She had even been caught up in a deadly episode when she and Desiree were at the spa of all places. Patrena had been modest in the telling, but Desiree shared how well she had handled coming to terms with the type of chaos that went hand and hand with being an Evans and a Vallin.
“You look lovely. See you in a little bit,” she offered before stepping out to go and take her place. She and the two other women I called friends, would start the wedding march. The three and Desiree were the only ones I wanted in my wedding. I didn’t even carry a bouquet. I carried a single baby blue rose.