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He doesn’t even look up from his phone. Not once.
A flicker of annoyance makes my eye twitch.
“It’s our wedding day,” I remind him, letting my irritation show.
“And this marriage is part of business, am I right?” His gaze lifts to mine, as if daring me to deny his statement.
I stare back at him, my throat going dry. At a complete loss over what to say.
“I have a question for you.” He returns his attention to his phone once more, not waiting for my reply. “Was this meeting between you and McTiernan earlier—planned?”
I gape at him, shock coursing through my blood, chilling me to the bone. “What?Of course it wasn’t.”
“Really.” His stormy gaze meets mine and I can see the doubt there. He doesn’t believe me.
Will he ever?
Chapter Four
Perry
It is absolutetorture, continuously posing next to Charlotte, putting on a smiling face for the photographer, Susan. The same woman who took our engagement photos, and she’s just as enthusiastic as the last time we were with her. She’s directing the entire wedding party and our families to move here, move there, smile wider, smile brighter, look up, look down. Readjusting our positions, our poses.
It’s endless.
None of it seems to bother my bride. Charlotte is absolutely serene. Calm and quiet and doing exactly what she’s asked to do, no complaints, no obvious nerves showing, which is the complete opposite of her behavior when we had our engagement photos taken only what…a month ago? Six weeks?
It’s astounding, the transformation.
Charlotte’s posture is perfect, her skin glowing and her smile is as natural as I think I’ve ever seen it. As if she’s happy to be doing this. Happy to finally be married to me.
While I’m over here stewing in my own shit, still confused by the sudden appearance from her supposed first lover. A man who is not-so-distantly related to the goddamn Morellis.
I can’t believe he’s the man she was with in Paris. The one who broke her heart and treated her like discarded trash. I wish I could ask her more questions, but it’s not like I can bring it up in the middle of the photo session documenting our marriage, for Christ’s sake.
The timing of his appearance is suspicious though.
After I asked if their earlier run-in was planned, we didn’t bring him up again. I suppose I could’ve asked more questions, but I was afraid I’d get too angry. So we remained in that little room Miranda the dictator/wedding planner shoved us into while our wedding guests cleared out. We were all alone, the two of us eyeing each other warily after I was such a shit to her.
After our silent stare down, Charlotte finally asked one single question.
“Can you help me with my train?”
I, of course, assisted her with it, all the while thinking of her with another man. Kissing him. Touching him. Pressing her naked body against his. Letting him slide inside of her snug—
“Perry! Take that scowl off your face!” Susan snaps.
Realizing that I am indeed scowling, I relax my features as best I can and smile as if I haven’t a care in the world while I continue to stand next to my radiant bride.
There is no denying she is absolutely beautiful today. Gorgeous. The nerves were affecting her earlier, when she walked down the aisle with her father, who didn’t look pleased.
But when does he ever look pleased?
Charlotte’s expression reminded me of someone who was being led to their death, and for a moment I forgot all about the asshole who showed up and focused on making Charlotte feel reassured. I touched her hand. Calmed her down.
And now I’m the one who’s ragged with nerves. Exhausted and needing a drink.
Seriously, I’m looking forward to getting fucked up at the reception.
