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“You look…magnifique. So beautiful.” She came over and took my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
“Grandmere, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I introduced my friends to her, and then stopped at the tall, dark-haired girl who was shuffling nervously from foot to foot. “This is Eugenia. McQueen.”
Grandmere’s gaze cut from me to the girl, then back. “This is…”
“Mercy’s other daughter.”
“Oh.”
“Hi,” Eugenia said meekly, giving a small wave.
Being low-key had never been one of my grandmere’s strongest suits. In spite of her small stature she crossed the distance between me and Eugenia and swept the tall girl into her arms, crushing her with an intense hug.
She muttered an assortment of loving greetings in French, and Eugenia responded in kind. Upon hearing her granddaughter speak in French, and Creole French no less, I think Grandmere almost keeled over and died of happiness on the spot. The most I’d been able to manage was Canadian French, and even that I botched half the time. Eugenia spoke Grandmere’s native language as only a girl born and raised in Louisiana could. They chattered to each other briefly, and Eugenia wiped away a few happy tears once Grandmere released her.
“Happy, happy day,” Grandmere said, beaming with pride.
My photographer was practically wetting himself with joy over all the warm and fuzzy family moments we were giving him to document.
“How is Lucas doing?” I asked Kimberly. If he was half as nervous and wobbly as I felt, I would get some satisfaction from knowing I wasn’t the only one.
“The boys were scheduled to get ready at his penthouse to avoid any run-ins here.” The planner shrugged. “Lucas insisted they didn’t need any assistance, so we’ll have to pray they figure out whose vest is whose and don’t mix the boutonnières up too terribly.” She gave a martyred sigh, knowing she’d be blamed if they showed up looking ridiculous. “At least we’ll have some time to fix them before he follows you in.”
Grandmere, Eugenia and Kellen were no strangers to wedding protocol when it came to royal werewolf nuptials, but I’d needed to explain to Mercedes at great length why I was going to precede Lucas up the aisle. Traditionally in most scenarios the king went first, especially when it came to meals and formal greetings.
Weddings were the one exception. The king always arrived after the bride had gone up the aisle, and was always the last to enter. So instead of me walking towards him, I would already be at the front when he came in. Kind of sneaky, if you ask me, since it meant the big reveal moment was for the groom and not the bride. But I wasn’t big on being the center of attention, so I wasn’t going to complain too much.
Kimberly had handled it beautifully, even if she hadn’t understood it herself. It’s amazing how much you can write off as an eccentricity when your client is a billionaire. I think most people suspected Lucas was just the vainer of the two of us, and no one really corrected those assumptions.
One way or the other, by the end of the night I was going to be Mrs. Lucas Rain.
It didn’t much matter which of us came down the aisle last.
The main lobby was empty, security keeping tourists out and helping escort guests to their rooms while keeping them away from the wedding areas. The Columbia Hotel was the first of Lucas’s hotels I’d ever been in, and that had been several years prior when I’d executed a few vampires in one of the four penthouses and had almost gotten thrown off the balcony. But I’d survived, and now I was here on my wedding day.
The lobby floor was clear Plexiglas over river rocks, with fresh water passing over the stones. I stopped outside the elevator to marvel at the expensive details of the lobby, which looked like a British Columbia forest had been transplanted into the middle of Midtown Manhattan.
What better place for a werewolf king to get marrie
d?
Across the street, Bryant Park was decorated for the reception, with white tents and strings of glimmering yellow lights. Security guards were everywhere, ensuring no uninvited guests crashed the party. In spite of the cool April temperatures, the light made the whole park look warmer. And if the illusion wasn’t enough, Kimberly had also brought in dozens of outdoor heaters to keep people from getting chilly.
I took a shuddering breath outside the big ballroom doors, fidgeting with the bouquet of gerbera daisies I was holding.
“Ready?” Kimberly asked.
“Does anyone ever say yes?”
“Sometimes they lie.” She smiled and straightened my veil. It didn’t cover my face, but she wanted it to frame my cheeks just so. Satisfied, she stepped back and gave a contented nod. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, Secret.”
My heart stuttered a little at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you.”
She had traded her cell phone for a headset, and she clicked a button near her ear. “We’re good to go, cue bridesmaid entrance.” Pulling me to one side so my entrance wouldn’t be ruined, she nodded to the man beside the ballroom doors, and he pushed them open when the first swell of Etta James’s “At Last” began to play.
A hush fell over the ballroom, and chairs scraped as guests turned to watch the procession. Eugenia, Kellen, Brigit and lastly Mercedes entered and made their way to the front of the room where a makeshift altar had been constructed. Kimberly pushed Grandmere and me together and after an appropriate pause spoke into her headset again. “Cue bride.”
The traditional wedding march began to play, and the sound of a full ballroom coming to their feet followed the first beats of the music.
