: Chapter 2

“I cannot believe I’m doing this.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Elijah snapped another pic of me. “I’m going to have blackmail ammunition for years to come.”

I scowled. “Stop taking my picture. It’s bad enough Bridezilla talked me into wearing this thing. I don’t want evidence of it anywhere.”

“Evidence? Sweetheart, the whole world is going to see you in that once the photos are published in the magazine.”

My eyes widened. “Absolutely not. We are not going to be publishing a full bridal-party picture.”

“How can we not?”

“We’ve done it before. Not intentionally, but the Waddington wedding we covered—the one in East Hampton at the winery with the big metal sculpture out front? We published photos of the bridal party and groomsmen separately.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t you still be in the bridal-party photos?”

“Not when you’re in control of the photos. Make sure you get some without me.”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. How the hell had this happened? One minute the bride was bitching because one of her bridesmaids couldn’t make it—the audacity of the woman whose mother had a massive heart attack this morning and was now on life support. “Doesn’t she know I can’t have an uneven number of bridesmaids and groomsmen?” the bride had shrieked. “It will ruin the wedding!”

I had never met a more self-absorbed person in my life. This was supposed to be one of her closest friends, and she’d had a family crisis, but it didn’t even register. I know brides get caught up in things. Heck, I had when I was planning my wedding. I’d lost sleep over my future mother-in-law buying a dress that didn’t coordinate with my colors. But really, who the hell cared what the woman wore, as long as she was happy with it? Still, something about putting on a white dress built for a fantasy makes us want the whole fantasy—down to every last stupid detail.

God … I stepped closer to the mirror and examined the thing on my head. I’d always loved fascinators, thought they were so elegant and classy. But this deep-purple sculpture sticking up from my hair? Maybe, maybe a runway model who was nine feet tall could pull it off if she had on a super-plain dress and the hat was the focal point of the outfit. But that was not the case here. I looked down at the dress and shook my head. So, so bad. And I couldn’t even think about how this shade of purple clashed with my auburn hair.

My eyes shifted from my reflection to the man standing behind me. Elijah was still grinning like a loon.

“She’s not even fucking British!” I lamented.

He chuckled. “That’s the least of your problems, babe.”

I really, really didn’t want to leave the bridal suite like this. But the next thing I knew, the door whooshed open. Bridezilla didn’t even have the courtesy to knock after she’d sent me in here to change.

“Oh thank God!” she said again. “Caroline is a little more petite than you, so it fit nicer, but it’s better than nothing. Could you possibly try to stuff your boobs in a little more? They look like they want to spill out.”

My eyes bulged. Bridezilla didn’t even notice. Then again, I was so consumed with this hideous farce of an outfit that I didn’t immediately realize that she herself had finally gotten dressed. You know the saying, every bride is beautiful? Well, whoever said that was just being kind. It’s not true—not when they’re five-foot-nothing and wearing eight layers of tulle. It looked like Piper was trying to smuggle a full class of five-year-old ballerinas through airport security. Though at least she didn’t have to wear this awful fascinator.

Bridezilla grabbed my arm. “What is that stuck to the back of your arm? A nicotine patch?” She held up both hands, shaking them. “That needs to come off.”

“It’s an insulin pump. I’m diabetic.”

“Oh. I guess it has to stay, then?”

“Why yes, it does. I’m funny about keeping upright and not passing out.” This woman was unbelievable. I stared at her in shock. How could someone have such terrible manners? She noticed and mistook my flabbergasted expression for one of awe.

Piper did a twirl. “Gorgeous, right?” she said. “It’s one of a kind.”

“I’ll say,” Elijah mumbled behind me.

“It’s … special.” I smiled.

Claire, the bridal attendant, knocked on the open door. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“I was somehow persuaded into filling in for one of the bridesmaids,” I offered.

“Yes,” Piper said. “It wasn’t a hard sell after I mentioned my daddy is best friends with the owner of the magazine she works for.”

I was not a violent person, but I felt like punching this woman. Claire looked at me sympathetically before turning to the bride. “All of the ladies are done with their spray tans. We have about thirty minutes until the ceremony starts, if you want to begin with pictures. The photographer is waiting.”

I’d almost forgotten about the spray tans—thankfully my brothers and I had inherited a bar from my Irish father but gotten our ability to tan easily from my Italian mother, so I’d been excused from the mandatory skin painting.

Piper’s eyes dropped to my boobs and she sighed. “We’ll have to reorder the girls so you’re at the end, farthest from me. I don’t want to look flat.”

“Claire, you are my new best friend.”

I didn’t normally drink much at work events, but when Claire passed me a shot of tequila—my second in an hour—there was no way in hell I could refuse it. The clear liquid knocked back smooth, sliding gracefully down my esophagus and igniting a warm sensation in my belly. The pre-wedding bridesmaid photoshoot had been painful. Piper had barked orders, but luckily, Bridezilla had needed a bathroom break. When she left, I made sure Elijah snapped a bunch of candids of the ladies standing around and laughing without me, because one of those would be what we used in the magazine.

I couldn’t wait to get out of this costume. Not only was it hideous, it was hot as hell, and the fascinator had been secured with a mound of bobby pins that were pulling my hair. At least it wouldn’t be too long now. Once the ceremony was over, we’d move on to full bridal-party pictures, and then I could get changed. Maybe I’d get drunk tonight. Lord knows I’d already put in my pound of flesh for the magazine today.

The maître d’ walked out to the lawn where we’d been taking pictures and told everyone it was time for the ceremony to start. I followed at the rear of the group as we shuffled down another long hallway, feeling even more uncomfortable without Elijah. But he’d had to go set up to take pictures of the bride coming down the aisle.

When we arrived outside the chapel, a gaggle of groomsmen was already lined up and waiting. It was one thing to look ridiculous when everyone around you also looked that way, but entirely another when you had to go out in public. My eyes jumped from one tuxedo-clad man to the next. A few were nice looking, and most seemed about my age. But when I got to the last man in line, I nearly gasped. It was the gorgeous, azure-eyed guy from earlier. I stood a little taller, momentarily forgetting what the heck I was wearing. Kelly, the friendliest of the bridesmaids, turned to me. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

“Okay.”

She steered me down the line of groomsmen. The first guy was Matthew, the second was Harding. The third she introduced as Ted, so I made a little more effort for him. Maybe if the opportunity presented itself, I’d chat him up a little. It never hurt to be friendly to the big boss’s family. Eventually, we got to the end of the line and stopped in front of the azure eyes. My enthusiasm for the event perked up a whole lot more.

“And this is Wilder. Your partner for the ceremony.” She wagged a finger at him. “Be nice.”

He smirked. “I’m always nice, love.”

Ooh … Those eyes came with a British accent.

Bridezilla beckoned for Kelly, so she excused herself, leaving me and the azure eyes alone.

The groomsman, whose name was apparently Wilder, gave me the once-over. His eyes dropped down to take in my dress, then raised to the top of my head, where the fascinator that looked more like mangled horns sat protruding from my skull.

“You had on a different dress earlier. So the accident must’ve happened recently then?”

“Accident?”

He smirked and motioned to the fascinator. “I’m assuming there’s a giant wound under there, since you thought it was a good idea to put that dress on instead.”