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CHAPTER1
~“In a quiet lagoon, devils dwell.”~
Natasha Page
This was the worst day of my life.
It was supposed to be the happiest one. It was every young girl’s dream to get married in the perfect dress, in a pretty church, surrounded by her friends and family and an extravagant number of flowers.
It was supposed to bemyday.
I had the beautiful dress, and it had cost a fortune. I hadn’t been one of those women that needed to try on a million dresses in search of “the one”. It had only taken three. It was a fabulous, princess inspired A-line in stark white, designed by Vera Wang and reminiscent of Cinderella. The torso was covered with tiny glittering jewels placed delicately all over the dainty, pristine lace detail that cascaded down the full length of the skirt. It was a once-in-a-lifetime dress meant for a once-in-a-lifetime wedding.
Each pew was decorated with a lovely arrangement of flowers. In fact, the whole church was filled with bouquets and vases, and it felt like the entire place had turned into an elegant indoor flower garden. Brilliant blue hydrangeas and vivid violet irises were hidden among white lilies and roses. The mix of flowery scents was heavenly. Truthfully, my wedding planner had knocked it out of the park. I should have paid her more.
My friends had arrived on time and had waited an hour before the first of them had started to trickle out. The priest had stood with me for a short while, but eventually he’d retreated to his study. A few members of my family had joined too, but they ended up leaving along with the rest. My mother and father had stayed with me the longest, but they had never really like Robert, so I soon grew tired of the “I told you so’s” and eventually told them that I wanted to be alone. They’d be flying back to Los Angeles tomorrow morning anyway. The plan had been that I would leave for my honeymoon in the Maldives at the same time. Everything had been prepared for down to the very last detail. Everything had been perfect, except for one thing.
My fiancé had never shown up.
He’d left me alone at the altar, leaving me to deal with the shame and utter humiliation of having to explain his absence while having literally no idea why he wasn’t here at my side.
Was I not enough? Had I done something wrong? Why wasn’t he here?
Finally, I left the alter and made it down the few steps towards the pew in the front. I lowered myself slowly, sitting down carefully among the copious amount of tulle around my waist. I pressed my hands to my face, wanting to cry but also not wanting to ruin the makeup I’d had done this morning.
What had gone wrong?
Somewhere inside the church, a clock ticked, and my hearing focused solely on it for a moment. Every click of the second hand seemed like the tolling of a bell, and my throat closed, making it hard to breath and even harder to think. My vision narrowed to a single pinpoint, and I closed my eyes, which made everything seem infinitely easier. Maybe I could pretend that I wasn’t here, that none of this was real.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Everything is going to be okay.
The massive oak doors at the back of the church opened, and I didn’t dare look up because I didn’t want to see another familiar face offering pity. Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to play the brave card as best I could.
“I’d prefer to be alone right now,” I tried.
“I’d like a chance to talk to you,” a husky, rumbling voice echoed.
I didn’t recognize it, and even as I searched my brain for any hint of who it could be, I came up blank. The structure of the church gave it a dangerously ominous feel, and it set me on edge, suddenly morphing my embarrassment into anxiety. The scuff of his shoes against the floor told me he was moving closer and that he wasn’t going to go away. I swallowed hard and lifted my chin, forcing myself to look up and see who it was.
I froze.
Immediately, I realized that my instinct had been right. I didn’t know him. In fact, I couldn’t imagine a world where I would run into a man like him. Truthfully, he was sort of terrifying. He was massive, well over six feet tall and built like a bodybuilder. His biceps were so big that I probably couldn’t have closed my hands if I put both around one. His imposing height and enormous form seemed dangerous. My breath caught in my throat as I met his eyes. Captured in the prison of his steely, greenish-grey gaze, I stared, trying to figure out where he had come from and who he was, but I fell short. His dark brown hair was long enough to sweep towards the right side. There wasn’t any gel or product that I could see that held his hair in place. It simply appeared that he’d used his hands to brush it to the side. Each strand fell with a certain sense of effortlessness and that made him seem even more frightening at first glance. Slowly, my gaze drew down the rest of his face as my heart pounded in my chest. His brow was furrowed with something like concern, but I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was pity? Hopefully not… His angular cheekbones gave way to a thick, trimmed beard that covered his jawline. The muscles in his cheeks were tense, like he was clenching his teeth together as he stared at me.
What did he want?
He was dressed in an elegant tuxedo, a matte black silk that told me he wasn’t a stranger to money. His cufflinks sparkled, and I didn’t even question if they were diamonds or not. I knew they were. There were tattoos peeking out from the collar at his neck. When I glanced down at his broad hands, I noticed they were rough—the hands of a man who hadn’t shied away from hard work. His tattoos continued past his wrists, down the backs of his hands and onto his knuckles.
Everything about him screamed danger, but for some reason I didn’t run. Instead, I stood up and faced him.
With broad steps, he closed the distance between us. My legs began to shake, and my vision pitched forward. Without warning, my world teetered on edge, and he immediately reached out, catching me in his arms. Like I weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers, he swept me off the floor and sat down, pulling me into his lap.
Well, this wasunexpected…
He was even bigger than I thought. The size difference between us was stark, making me feel like nothing more than a small girl being held in a much bigger man’s lap. I should have fought, but I couldn’t bring myself to. For some insane, irrational reason, it felt like home, like I was safe.
The scent of his cologne swirled around me, and I closed my eyes, losing myself in the woody, aromatic scent of citrus and raw masculinity. When I concentrated on the specific notes, I sensed lemon and grapefruit with sandalwood and maybe cedar. There was a hint of lavender, nutmeg, and mint. It spoke of clean sophistication and power. It had a heady effect on me, so I tried to focus on something else.
His enormous, muscled arms surrounded me, holding me gently. He was strong, there was no question. I got the sense that he wasn’t used to backing down out of fear, and that if he was ever afraid of anything, he faced it head on with the courage of a warrior who wasn’t a stranger to battle. Even in his hardness, there was a certain tenderness that came out as he held me there in his lap, and I had to admit, it was curiously compelling.
