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I averted my eyes away from them, once again landing it on my mom. In spite of the strange feeling in my gut, I tried my best to be happy for my mom. Still, I just couldn’t shake it, and it was only after she’d reached the altar and handed me her bouquet to hold onto that I realized what that nagging feeling in my gut was trying to tell me.
The Montgomerys weren’t as perfect as the world thought. They were hiding something.
Chapter Two – Brianna
The ceremony went without a hitch. The minister steamrolled through it, and soon enough, Alistair and my mom were kissing chastely in front of the audience. I tried my best not to watch, but there was hardly anywhere else I could look. I certainly didn’t want to stare at Gareth some more.
After it was done, I had to hand my mom’s bouquet back to her and meet Gareth for the walk back. Once again, he offered me his arm, and I took it, another strained smile on my face. Had to smile, had to fake it for the pictures being taken. My mom and Alistair would walk down the aisle hand in hand after us, and then it was time to meet everyone in a different room of the concert hall for the reception.
I wasn’t even allowed to change out of this stupid dress. I had to wear it all damn night. Who knew how long we’d be stuck here, getting to know everyone, basically pretending—because I sure as hell didn’t want to know any of these people.
We were halfway down the aisle when Gareth whispered, “You’re not very good at lying, are you?”
My smile faltered, and I glanced sideways at him. “What?”
“You’re not happy about this wedding,” Gareth mused, keeping our pace steady. His arm clamped down to his side, locking my arm where it was. I couldn’t pull it away from him even if I tried to. “That’s something we have in common, at least.” He sounded so venomous, so mean about it.
I would never say it out loud. No one would catch me admitting that aloud, ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, turning my eyes away from him and really focusing on making my smile more believable.
He snickered. “Let’s see how long you and your mother last with us.”
We crossed over the threshold, no longer in the main aisle, which was the only reason I stopped and whirled on him, demanding, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I couldn’t pull my arm away from his; he was still holding it hostage, so we stood closer than I would’ve liked.
All Gareth did was sneer at me, say “You’ll see,” and then finally let me go.
I stumbled back, wanting to get away from him but unable to tear my eyes off him. Something about him just didn’t sit right with me. That nagging feeling I had earlier returned tenfold, alarm bells ringing in my head.
I had the feeling Gareth was worse than trouble, more than mean and rude. Something told me he could be downright cruel and he’d get away with it… and I’d be living with him, unable to really get away from him.
Wonderful.
The reception was in a large, open hall with high ceilings and ridiculously large glass chandeliers that sparkled with the light. Big, two-story windows sat behind us, shining waning light in the room. The sun was setting, but the reception was only beginning.
Everyone had been seated at their tables. Gareth and I had to sit with our parents up front, on the side, so they were still everyone’s main focus.
There were toasts, clinking of glasses to make Alistair and my mom kiss a whole bunch, and eventually food brought out by waiters and waitresses. After food was had, the DJ started up some music, and then it was time for their first dance together.
Alistair stood, offering my mom his hand. She greedily took it, beaming at him, but as they walked around me to get to the dance floor directly in front of our table—between us and the rest of the tables in the room—she stopped and leaned down to whisper to me, “You should ask Gareth to dance.”
“What? Mom, I—”
One harsh look from her stopped me from saying anything else, but that look vanished the moment she and Alistair resumed their walk to the dance floor. He took her waist and she set her hands on his shoulders, and then they began swaying softly to the beat of whatever old song was playing.
I couldn’t help it. I glared at my mom as they danced. I couldn’t hold it in.
Why in the hell would I want to dance with Gareth? You didn’t dance with your stepsiblings, did you? Was it her way of trying to force us together? Ugh. As my mind raced with all the things I wanted to tell her, mainly to screw off, I was slow in turning my head and glancing at Gareth.
He wasn’t watching our parents dance. His green eyes were on me.
Had he heard what my mom had said? No, impossible. She’d whispered it directly into my ear, so there was just no freaking way.
Letting out a frustrated breath, I returned my glare to my mom and her new husband. She was leaning against him, saying something and giggling, while he appeared stoic and pretty much unconcerned about whatever it was she was saying.
That didn’t look like a man in love, but maybe that’s how it was for rich people. Things were different for them. Certain laws never applied to them, and they could get away with damn near anything. Maybe they were all too psychotic to feel real love.
Or maybe I was just seeing things, trying to find some flaw in this man my mom didn’t see so I wouldn’t fall into his trap. I didn’t care about money or prestige, and I sure as hell didn’t care about a pedigree or whatever the hell rich people worried about.
The song changed into another slow one, and other people got up to join my mom and Alistair on the dance floor. My mom tossed a look my way, wordlessly telling me to get up off my ass and ask Gareth to dance like a good daughter.
