Page 35 of Claimed By The Other Brother

"No." I shake my head.

"No, that's not— He's just nervous. He's just—"

"I'm sorry," Eric says again.

"He's not coming, Scarlett."

I can't breathe. The corset of my wedding dress is too tight, crushing my ribs, squeezing the air from my lungs. The corridor spins.

I look into the ballroom at fifty guests sitting in their chairs, all of them turned to stare at me. I see my mother starting to walk toward me, her face horrified. I see Barbara with her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. I see Dax standing frozen, rage etched into every line of his body.

They're all looking at me. Waiting for me to fall apart. The chunks rise in my throat. I'm going to be sick. Right here, in my wedding dress, in front of everyone. My ears go deaf, drowned out by the thundering of my heart. Everything narrows to a single point—I need to get out of here. Now.

I turn on my heels and run. The dress is heavy, cumbersome, but adrenaline propels me forward. I run down the corridor, my veil streaming behind me, my bouquet forgotten on the floor.

"Scarlett!" Jane's voicebehind me.

"Scarlett, wait!"

I don't wait. I can't. I need to get away from the staring, the pity, the humiliation crashing down on me like a tidal wave.

I spot a bathroom and throw myself through the door. My hands are shaking so violently I can barely lock it, but I manage. The lock clicks into place just as Jane and Sarah reach the door.

"Scarlett, please let us in!" Sarah's voice is muffled through the wood.

I don't answer. I stumble to the toilet and collapse to my knees. The beautiful wedding dress crumples beneath me, lace and crystals grinding against the tile floor.

And then I vomit. Everything I ate this morning comes up in violent waves. I heave and gasp, my body shaking, mascara-stained tears streaming down my face. When there's nothing left, I slump against the wall. The bathroom is cold, sterile, nothing like the romantic wedding suite I left thirty minutes ago.

My makeup is ruined. Black streaks down my cheeks. Red eyes. The perfect bride is gone, replaced by this broken thing on the bathroom floor.

"Scarlett, please." Jane's voice cracks.

"Please let us in."

I can't respond. I pull my knees to my chest and sit here in my destroyed wedding dress and sob.

Chapter Five

Dax

The hotel lobby is chaos.

Guests are streaming out of the ballroom, their voices a buzz of confusion and scandal. I can hear fragments of conversation as they pass—

“Did he really just not show up?”and “that poor girl”and “I can't believe Miles Blackwell would do something like this.”

My jaw clenches. Miles Blackwell. My brother. The coward who abandoned his fiancée at the altar.

I'm standing near the bar, phone pressed to my ear for the dozenth time. Miles's voicemail picks up again. His voice, casual and friendly, asking the caller to leave a message. I end the call without speaking. There's nothing left to say that I haven't already said.

My mother is sitting on one of the lobby couches, her face pale and drawn. She's aged ten years in the past two hours. I walk over and sit beside her.

"Any word?" she asks, though she already knows the answer.

"No. He's not picking up."

"I don't understand." Her voice breaks.