Chapter 22

22

Edward

"Your grandfather never ceases to surprise," Sinclair murmurs. He’s my best man, along with Knox, my oldest half-sibling. If Knox was surprised, he didn’t show it. He merely nodded, then fell in line behind Sinclair. He’s pissed off at this turn of events because it confirms I'm the CEO and not him. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since that tight-lipped nod. I’m surprised he agreed to be my best man. I felt sure he would refuse me. Maybe, it was Arthur’s presence that compelled him to assent. Although, from what I know about Knox, he’s not the kind to be intimidated by anyone, not even our very charismatic grandfather. But then, he's had a relationship with Arthur which has lasted for the duration of a lifetime. He can take liberties with the old man I can’t. And it's not because I'm daunted by him. It has more to do with the fact he's newly-found family, and someone who already seems to understand me more than my own parents.

How would it have been to have had him in my life when the incident happened? Would he have helped me out? Would he have guided me in navigating the aftermath of that one event that changed the course of my life? If he had been there, would he have stopped me from becoming a priest? Would that have meant I’d still be with Ava? At least, now, I’m able to refer to her by name, which is something I haven’t been able to do for a long time. Having Belle in my life is changing me already, and in ways I’m not ready for.

"You’re not going to turn and watch your bride approach?" Knox growls.

I stiffen and stare forward into the flames. The hair on the back of my neck prickles, and I sense her approach. My heart sends up a clamor in my ribcage. My pulse rate heightens. Every cell in my body is switched on and aware of her approach. And I want to. I. Want. To. And yet…if I do… If I see her face and take in her figure, I’ll be a goner. The sense of events running away from me squeezes my stomach.

"Edward," Sinclair’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

It’s going to look suspect if I don’t turn toward her. And the entire point of this charade is to convince my new family that this spectacle is genuine. I lengthen my spine, square my shoulders, turn… And the breath whooshes out of me.

She's a vision in lavender, the fabric clinging to her curves and stretching across her thighs with every step she takes. It embraces her lush figure until, in a dramatic sweep, it falls to her toes. Her purple-streaked hair is loose and in long curls. It streams out over her shoulders. The blonde strands catch the candlelight and gleam like burnished gold with threads of copper shot through it. And her eyes—the blue is deeper, almost indigo, taking its cue from the color of her gown.

In one hand, she holds a bouquet of white and purple flowers. The other hand is curved into the crook of my grandfather’s arm. The old man took it upon himself to escort her down the aisle. He seems to be enamored with her, in their very first meeting. Enough to walk her to me himself. On the other hand, he’s probably making sure the two of us are hitched without anything coming in the way.

Arthur reaches me, then places her hand in mine. "You keep her happy, boy," he says in a stern voice, before stepping back.

I tilt my head, unable to take my gaze from her features. The perfect arc of her eyebrows, the curve of her eyelashes, the tiny nose, the rosebud lips, the flushed cheeks—she’s beautiful, ethereal. A goddess. And I’m a sinner. She’s pristine. I’m tainted. I’ll never be good enough for her. I release her hand, then turn toward the officiant. He begins the ceremony, and the words wash over me.

I must say the right things, for suddenly, he’s asking us to exchange rings.

I glance at Sinclair, who jerks his chin in the direction of the aisle. Good thing, I acquired the rings after I proposed the arrangement to her.

Sinclair insisted I hand the rings over to him so he could hand them over to me at the wedding. And he knew about the wedding being pushed up. Obviously, all my friends did; that's why they're all here. I make my displeasure known to him. He shrugs. Looks like Arthur got to him, too.

I turn to find Tiny walking toward us. He’s holding a cushion in his mouth, and it holds the two rings I chose. I assume he thought it fitting to have the Great Dane be the ring bearer. Which, judging by Belle’s joyful exclamation of, "Tiny," was the right thing to do.

She bends and scratches his ear. He makes that mewling noise at the back of his throat, and she giggles. The sound is so fresh and young and innocent, my heart stutters in my chest. She should always sound like this. Happy and carefree, not weighed down by the past, like I am.

Tiny looks up at me with reproach in his eyes. I scowl down at him, and he makes a growling sound. Nice, now a mutt is telling me off at my own wedding.

I take my ring, hand it over to Belle, then take her ring and straighten. I wait for her to hand her bouquet over to Gio who’s hovering nearby. When I hold out my hand, she places her palm in mine. I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s a platinum band studded with blue sapphires, the companion to her engagement ring. She slides a platinum band, devoid of any stones, onto my left ring finger. When she glances up at me, her eyes are wide, her color pale. The pulse at the hollow of her neck draws my attention to the creamy expanse of her neck.

I want to sink my teeth into the curve where her shoulder meets her throat and mark her. I want to throw her over my shoulder and march her out of here so no one else will dare take in her delicate beauty. I want to—break the vow I made to myself to never have feelings, to never get involved in a relationship again. My throat closes. My heart rate soars. And when, from a distance, I hear the officiant say I can kiss my bride, I don’t hesitate. I close the distance to her, wrap my fingers around the nape of her neck, and draw her up on her tiptoes. Her blue eyes dilate, her lips part—in surprise, I’m sure—but it gives me the perfect opportunity to close my mouth over hers.