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I’ve never heard this story, and it becomes very clear to me that stalking is part of our makeup. I’m not sure if I should be concerned or feel as if we’ve all got something in common now. Well, all of us except Hendrick. He’s into some freaky-ass shit, but stalking doesn’t seem to be part of it.
“The interrogation will take place in two days. We’ll get through the wedding, and then it’s back to work.”
Thankfully, I don’t have a honeymoon planned, or this would put a real fucking cramp in my style. When our meeting is finished, we all stand and head into the kitchen, where our mother has a charcuterie board all set up for us.
There is no more talk of the family, and the conversation is switched to Claire and the wedding. My mother doesn’t hold back. She tells me how much she is enjoying Claire and that she thinks not only is she a good match, but that we will have a good marriage, too.
I like that, because I feel the same way. Although my impressions on the matter probably only come from my dick and how it likes being inside of her more than any other woman ever. And how it wants to be inside of her every second of every day.
CLAIRE
It’s my wedding day.
I’m in my dress, standing in the suite of the hotel. The driver waits in the living room for me, well, for my family, because I’m the only one who’s dressed and ready to go. Everyone else is running around trying to make sure that they look perfect.
Nobody has come into the room to check on me, not even once. The hair and makeup people Brenda sent over had to get me breakfast and lunch, so I wouldn’t get sick. It shouldn’t surprise me, but as much as they wanted this wedding to happen, it does.
Hair and makeup have left, and I’m staring at my reflection. I’m glad I picked this dress, but I don’t know what to do. I’m beginning to panic. I was hoping I could have told him yesterday about not being a virgin, but he didn’t show up.
There won’t be pictures before the ceremony, and as far as I know, I won’t be seeing him until I walk down the aisle. Can I tell him at the altar? I don’t think I can. So after we’re legally married… that sounds like a nightmare. An even bigger nightmare than being forced to marry a stranger.
There is a knock on the door, and without me even saying a word, it begins to open. Spinning around, I watch as a man appears on the other side. It’s the driver. His eyes scan my body, then they find my own gaze, and he smirks.
“Ready?” he asks.
I want to ask him who he is. It’s clear that he works in some capacity for my husband-to-be, or maybe his family, but the way he carries himself, the confidence he has, he’s not just a driver. He has a titled position of some kind.
“I am,” I whisper.
He chuckles before he speaks. “You’re going to be fine,” he says in an attempt to ease my worry.
He doesn’t know the truth, though. I won’t be fine. At this point, I’m going to be surprised if I survive the wedding night. If my new husband doesn’t completely beat the shit out of me and kill me, I think I would be shocked. He paid for a virgin bride, and I am not that… not anymore.
Instead of telling him that I’m not going to be fine, I give him a tight-lipped smile and move toward him. Silence surrounds us as I make my way into the living area. When I glance around, I find my family standing around the room, their gazes all finding mine as I make my appearance.
I wouldn’t call it a grand entrance because there is nothing grand about me. Now, if my mother or even Shelby walked into a room, all eyes would be on them. My mother isn’t necessarily stunning, but she’s loud and commanding. My sister is young, but sheisstunning.
Then there’s me. I have a little more meat to my bones, my face isn’t as pretty, and my hair is blonde but isn’t as shiny and beautiful as it probably should be. My mother has always told me to get a good education because I wasn’t much to look at.
And that’s what I’ve done, except I’m not finishing that school. I don’t have anything to fall back on when this goes completely sideways… but maybe I won’t need anything because I doubt I’ll survive this night anyway.
“Shall we get me married off tonight?” I ask.
Bryson clears his throat and shoves his hand into his pocket as he flicks his gaze down to his feet. My father’s smile is huge. It takes over his entire face as he moves toward me. He wants this so badly that he can hardly stand it. The driver takes a step to my side, and my father’s own feet falter at the move.
My father reaches out, taking my hand in his, and squeezes it. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I just want to say we appreciate you, Claire. You’re saving all of us.”
His words are much too little, too late. He doesn’t really give a shit. He’s saying these words to assuage his own guilty conscience, not because he actually believes them.
The driver snorts but doesn’t say anything. I should laugh, too, but probably for a different reason. I think my father is full of complete shit. No doubt this driver thinks he’s an asshole. Which, let’s face it… he is.
“Let’s go,” the driver grunts. “The Hamilton family is waiting. And you cannot keep them waiting.”
I still don’t think this guy is a driver. He’s got to be bigger in whatever their group is. He’s making a joke. The way he says, “cannot keep them waiting” is funny. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I jerk my chin and take a step forward when my dad releases me.
“Let’s get me married,” I say.
Everybody gathers their things, and as I watch them, I realize that this will probably be the last time we’re ever going to be in a room together. I should feel sad about that, devastated really.
