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“What?” I ask, shocked that she would say that.
She shrugs, then with a smile, she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “With any luck, I caught someone’s eye last night, so maybe it will be me soon. Mom and Dad told me how great it would be. You’re going to be like a princess. Rich without a care in the world. I want that. To be taken care of every minute of every day. A husband who showers me with gifts and attention all the time. Money that will never run out.”
I blink once, twice, three times as I watch her. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to reply to her ideas. I cannot believe that Mom and Dad have made this sound so glamorous. Or maybe I can. They are just that selfish. They want money, and they don’t care how they get it, even if it means selling their daughters to the highest bidders.
Then there’s Shelby and the fact that she’s so consumed with money. She already wants for nothing, mainly because my parents are obsessed with appearance and give her everything her heart desires, but she’s also gorgeous and could probably land her own millionaire without being bought and paid for.
“I don’t think that part of this is going to be romantic or sexy in any way, Shelby. Money isn’t everything, and just because you marry someone, it doesn’t mean that you have access to anything of theirs, including money. This man, when he marries me, he is going to have full control over me. It’s a prison sentence.”
Her eyes widen. “What do you mean full control?” she whispers.
“I am going to be his property,” I state, trying to scare her, but at the same time, the realization that my words are true scares me even more than I have been, which, to be honest, is pretty damn terrifying.
“He will be in full control of every single aspect of my life. I won’t be finishing school. I won’t be able to go get a coffee or go shopping without his approval and permission. I probably won’t be able to spend a dime of money without it either. I’ll be stuck in his house unless I have permission to leave it. A prison sentence, Shelby.”
Before either of us can say anything else, the door opens, and I watch as the wedding planner appears. She’s looking down at a tablet, her gaze not even lifting when she begins to speak to us. It’s like we’re not real people. Which is fine with me because I don’t feel like a real person anyway anymore.
“Sister of the bride, you need to head out. Your escort is waiting. Bride, we’re almost ready. Do you want me to send your father in?” she asks as if she wasn’t there last night when I walked down the aisle alone during the rehearsal.
“I’ll be walking alone,” I state.
Shelby brushes past her and out of the room, no doubt making her way toward Bryson, who is her escort down the aisle. Sinking my teeth into my cheek, I wait for her to say something. It’s clear she has something on her mind.
“Don’t you want me to send the photographer in for pictures of the bride and father before the wedding?”
Shaking my head, I lift my chin slightly and look down my nose at her. She clears her throat, then shifts her gaze down to her tablet before lifting it again slowly. “Okay. You’ll be ready to walk down the aisle in five minutes. I’ll come get you.”
And with that, she’s gone.
Bitch.
Turning back to the mirror, I take in my reflection and inhale a deep breath, holding it for a moment before I let it out slowly. I take in my face, my hair, and my dress, ensuring that there isn’t a hair out of place.
The planner appears what feels like seconds later and announces it’s my turn. I grip my bouquet tightly and head toward the closed double doors. They open as the music begins, and that is when I force my feet to move.
One in front of the other.
Over and over.
My gaze is pointed straight ahead, but I see absolutely nothing. I repeat to myself over and over, one foot in front of the other, until I reach the steps that lead up to the altar. The priest says some things, but I ignore him, mainly because I can’t hear over the sound of the blood rushing in my ears.
A strong hand extends in front of me, and I slip my fingers into it. He curls his around mine, and my heart slams harder against my chest. I’m afraid it’s going to fall out onto the carpet at the altar. I can’t force myself to look at the man beside me, but he’s here.
Even if he didn’t show up at anything else, he is indeed here right now. I can feel his gaze on me, then his body shifts in my direction and he focuses on me. I know this is my time to face him as well.
This is it.
Turning, I force myself to look up at him, and when I do, my heart doesn’t slam against my chest anymore because it stops beating.
My sexy stranger.
ChapterSeventeen
CLAIRE
It’s him.
My midnight stalker.
