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At my wedding reception.
Standing just behind my husband.
Chapter Six
Perry
Idon’t tearmy eyes off of Charlotte dancing with her father, noting how uncomfortable she seems, and how perfectly natural he acts. Smiling down at her as he steers her across the dance floor, his lips moving. Probably saying nice things about his daughter that he doesn’t really mean.
It’s all about appearances for the Lancasters, which I get.
It’s the same for the Constantines as well.
My wife and I are the culmination of that thought process, and it’s fucking painful, how they put us through this charade, all for them to look good to others. A fake marriage, a fake life. I wanted more.
I deserve more. Charlotte does too. And maybe we can have it…
If I so much as see Reggie Lancaster’s fingers barely squeeze her arm, I’m on him. I don’t care who sees me take down my father-in-law at the damn wedding reception. He has no right to intimidate or hurt her, especially now.
She’s mine, whether he likes it or not.
The father-daughter dance seems to go smoothly, the façade maintained until near the end of the song, when Charlotte’s eyes go wide and she slows her steps. Our gazes had just locked, but now she’s staring beyond me.
At someone else.
I glance over my shoulder in the direction she’s looking, spotting the man I ran into in the hotel lobby yesterday afternoon before the rehearsal.
The man who I thought looked familiar.
The man who’s currently staring at my bride as if she’s a tasty morsel he can’t wait to get his mouth on.
“Hey.” I turn to face him, letting my blatant hostility show. “Do I know you?”
His expression is downright amused as he contemplates me. “You’re the groom.”
I stand up taller. “You didn’t answer me. Are you an invited guest?”
There’s a hush that comes over the guests sitting at the tables nearby, but I don’t give a shit.
“She’s a good one, your bride. Watch out for her.” His accent is thick. Irish but touched with something else. “Before someone else possibly snags her up.”
His comment reminds me of the random texts I received from an unknown number—what was it, a week ago? I sort of forgot about them.
Until now.
Could Seamus have been the one to send them to me?
I take a step forward, my focus now one hundred percent on him. I’m assuming I know who he is, but I don’t want him to realize it. Not yet. “Who the hell says that to a groom on his wedding day?”
“A man who’s been—intimate with said groom’s bride, that’s who.” The smirk appears and I see red.
Seamus.
I don’t even think. I just react, lunging for him and plowing my fist into his smug, shitty mouth, not holding back. I put all of my strength into that hit and it knocks him back so hard he stumbles, landing on the floor among the gasps and horrified shrieks that fill the ballroom.
The music switches off. I hear my father-in-law shout, “What the hell is going on here?”
Seamus touches the side of his mouth lightly as I stand over him with clenched fists, his dark gaze on mine, burning with intensity. “Nice right hook you got there.”
