A laugh of delight bubbles out of me at the over-the-top display, and I hold my hand up to my lips, trying to contain another, as the men walk over and set the flowers onto a table, one after another, arranging them in a way that, once complete, shocks the room by forming two intertwined Es.
The crowd oohs and ahhs, and even I’m touched by the thoughtfulness.
It almost relieves the suffering I’ve been enduring, waiting for Emmett to arrive.
It’s all anyone wants to ask me about. At first, they comment on my dress and hair and makeup, telling me what a beautiful bride I’m going to be, but the conversation inevitably devolves into inquiries about Emmett.
“And where is your fiancé tonight?”
“Did Emmett mention he was going to be late?”
“He can’t keep us here waiting all night.”
I can only evade their questions for so long before it becomes clear something is amiss. One Mercier absence is easy to write off, but two?
If it weren’t for Emmett’s brother, there would be no Merciers present at all.
I was shocked to see Alexander arrive earlier. Beyond a smile and a nod from across the room, we haven’t talked. He’s lingered with a group from St. John’s—Emmett’s friends—and I’ve carefully avoided them all evening. Even with Collette in their midst, it feels like going over to join them would be akin to entering the lion’s den. Surely, Alexander of all people knows the truth of what’s going on.
But he’s here and I don’t get the sense he’s come to cause trouble, though I could be wrong.
We eventually cross paths when I go to get a closer look at the flowers Frédéric had delivered. I’m leaning in, inhaling as much of the intoxicating gardenias as I can manage, when Alexander strolls up casually beside me. I peer up at him, trying for a steadying breath as I prepare myself for the worst. He’s so unlike his brother. Where Emmett’s hair is almost black and always orderly, Alexander’s medium-length hair is a few shades lighter with more curl to it. He has a prominent Roman nose and features more rugged than Emmett’s, though they do share a sharp jawline. Alexander’s just happens to be covered with a beard.
“Hello sis,” he says with an amused smile.
Immediately, I sag with relief.
There’s a lightness to him that’s not so easy to find in Emmett. It doesn’t mean it’s not there. I’ve seen it for myself on occasion, but to the world, Emmett is severe and cold. His brother is the opposite.
He nods to the flowers. “What a display, huh? He could have just sent a dozen roses and been done with it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It is. What a shame it’s all pretend, right?”
I blink and look away. It’s better that he can’t read every emotion on my face. I’ve never been good at playing nonchalant.
He leans down and softens his voice. “I meant no harm by that. Just…it’s perhaps better if there’s no pretense between us. C’mon, you’re a real villain…don’t back down now.”
He grins as if he’s just paid me a compliment.
“I’m not.”
“A villain?” His thick eyebrows arch in disbelief. “Emmett seems sure of it. The way he tells it, you’re single-handedly ruining his life.”
He unfurls a grin, meanwhile I’m growing more angry by the second.
“What an elaborate piece of fiction. Be sure to remind your brother of the part he played in all of this the next time you see him. I’m assuming he won’t be coming here tonight?”
“Afraid not.”
I hum like it’s inconsequential.
“Right. If he’s trying to play games—”
“No games. At least not where you’re concerned. He’s merely trying to make a point to our father. You happen to be collateral damage, though I think he’s convinced himself it’s fine if you sustain a fair bit of blowback along the way since you yourself volunteered for the position of Pretend Fiancée.”
“It still doesn’t give him a pass to act like an asshole.”
“Doesn’t it?”
My spine stiffens. “I see. You’ve been sent here tonight as Emmett’s emissary?”
His devious grin only widens. “I assure you, I’m on no one’s side. In fact, the truth is, this whole charade is in my best interest. You have no idea how nice it is to be the son who’s not at the center of controversy for once. I could get used to this.”
I glower at him as I hum. “Right. I don’t know why you’re acting so smug about this situation. You could be next on the chopping block, you know.”
He shrugs, unruffled by the threat. “Oh, I doubt it. My father doesn’t bother with me. I think for the most part, he’s just happy when I’m not in rehab. It’s Emmett who carries the world. My father expects too much from him, and Emmett, idiot that he is, never ceases to rise to the occasion. I tell him all the time that all he has to do is fuck up a time or two and our father will forget about him as he’s forgotten about me.”