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Three pairs of different colored eyes observed me shrewdly. And then slowly, very slowly, the corners of their mouths started to curl. One by one, they grinned at me. Then they started to applaud.
“Well said, cousin,” Andrei smirked. “Loudly said, too.”
“Everyone in the hotel enjoyed your tirade,” Alexei drawled. “And the details of your sex life. Or should I say ‘no sex life’.”
“We believe you. You clearly have never been laid, little one,” Anton said with a shit eating grin.
I gasped, casting my eyes around the terrace. My cousins were right. I had definitely drawn an audience. I had raised my voice to get my point across.
Thankfully everyone in earshot was looking at me with amusement. I was embarrassed, but I hadn’t had a choice. My impassioned speech had saved Vice from being tortured on his wedding day. On our wedding day.
It hit me then. I was getting married. Today. To a man I barely knew.
That wasn’t true though. I did know him. We hadn’t known each other long but we had been through so much in that short time.
Either way, I could feel in my heart that this was the right thing to do. That Vice wanted to make me very happy. That he already had.
I wanted to make him happy, too. Not that I knew the first thing about how to be a wife. But I would learn. I would devote myself to him and to my role as his wife.
I sat down abruptly. One of my cousins waved his hand and a waiter magically appeared. The next thing I knew, I was sipping champagne and orange juice before being escorted back to the suite to get ready.
I took a shower, in a complete daze. The champagne had gone to my head. When I emerged, there was a tray of mimosas waiting for me. I walked over and noticed a chilled jug of what looked like, yes, more mimosas! My cousins had said a drink would calm me down. I decided to follow their advice.
I toweled my hair dry and sipped one of the tart, fizzy drinks, pondering how a girl should actually prepare for a last minute wedding.
It was an arranged marriage, in the truest sense of the word. Perhaps even a shotgun wedding. Yet both of us were absolutely ecstatic about it.
I dried my hair and rubbed some scented oil into my skin. That was it. I could not think of anything else to do.
I was surprised when someone knocked at the door. A young woman entered, bringing supplies. She told me to relax and gave me a thorough and relaxing manicure and pedicure. She was so sweet and funny. She reminded me of the girls at school. I was instantly relaxed.
I told her I couldn’t tip her and blushed and stammered something about it being ‘more than taken care of’. I took that to mean one of my handsome cousins, or my husband-to-be had taken care of it, probably intimidating and flustering the sweet girl in the process.
She took her leave and there I was, wondering what I was going to wear.
It was time to get dressed. I was imagining getting married in whatever basin my backpack. But to my surprise, a wedding gown was hanging over the full length mirror in our suite. There was a pretty shopping bag with fancy white high heeled shoes, pretty lacy underthings, and a smaller bag with a selection of makeup.
There was even a set of fancy hair clips, and some very elegant jewelry, pearls and something that looked like diamonds, though I doubted they were real. I smiled with pure feminine delight at the beauty of each item as I slowly slipped into the lingerie and applied a bit of makeup. The shoes were next, sliding on easily over the silk thigh high stockings.
The dress was a layer of sheer ivory lace over a silk underdress. Either would have been beautiful on their own. Together, they were stunning. I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked like a fairy princess. A beautiful blushing bride in an old movie. But I was real, and this was really happening. It finally hit me once and for all. I was getting married. I reached up to touch my hair. Gold and pearl earrings were visible as I lifted the hair away from my temples to clip it back.
I turned this way and that, looking for flaws. I didn’t see anything glaring. I wished my girlfriends from the convent were there to help me. Some of them had been very opinionated about things like fashion and beauty, even trying to mix things up with the extremely simple uniform we wore. Brittany in particular had had a knack for that sort of things, even if she was a touch on the critical side.
