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Thecool air on my heated skin was refreshing, thoughIdidn’t get to bask in it for long.Damonpulled me inside a limousine that had the rear door already held open.Thedriver stood next to it, greeting us like old friends.
“Goodevening,Mr. andMrs.Maxwell.”
Mrs.Maxwell?
“Goodevening,”Damonreplied.Weclimbed into the back, and he pulled me to his lap, wrapping his arm around my waist. “We'llbe there soon, but we need to make a stop before the chapel.”
Shreddedmemories slowly returned to my hazy mind.Hewas forcing me into a marriage without a prenup whileIwas docile and cooperative under the influence.
“Stop.”
“Itook care of everything on the flight and throughout the night,” he bypassed my protest, explaining his determined focus on the flight toVegasand the numerous calls he had taken throughout the night. “Thechapel’s booked.We’llpick up our outfits on the way there.I’vegot the jeweler bringing the rings to the chapel.Thephotographer, videographer, and musician are meeting us there, too.Thebakery couldn’t make a pitch black cake on short notice, but the florist said she could cover the cake with some black dahlias, so at least the pictures will turn out okay.”
Istared at him, gobsmacked. “Wecan’t geet married,"Islurred.
Heshook his head, the displeasure coming out in waves. “Alwaysrunning from me, aren’t you?Coldfeet won’t get you out of this one.It’shappening, baby.”
"No.”
Ifelt his eyes staring at me for a long while.Apart of me badly wanted to melt in his arms until everything got better.Theother part, the woman scorned, wanted to set the world on fire.
“Iknow you’re angry right now,” he murmured against the shell of my ear. “Butyou’ll see that this is for the best.I’llmake you understand.”
“Youruined everything between us.”
“No,Ihaven’t,” he growled. “Thisis the only way we can be together.”
Damondidn’t speak for the rest of the ride, seething silently.Iwanted to fight but couldn’t remember how to argue.Myeyes closed, andIslumped against him, the powerful arm acting as a warm blanket.Thecityscape blurred against the window before the limousine came to a screeching halt.
Damontugged at my elbow.
Mylids flapped, refusing to remain open. “Whattudoin?”
"Youneed a dress.”Damonyanked at my arm, dragging me out of the car with a lot more force than he exercised moments ago.
Wewere in front of a dress shop.Itlooked all wrong for a place this fancy to be open in the dead of the night.Ashopkeeper fumbled to greet us, holding the door open.Shedragged me to a rack with her best selections, talking too fast for my slow-moving mind.
"Nodress,"Istuttered when she thrust a long white dress into my arms.
Damonwas displeased. "Ifyou don't pick something,I’llbuy the pinkest dress in this store and make you wear it."
“Ichoose whatIwear,”Iretorted.Itwasn’t a clever comeback.
“Notif you’re going to wear black.”
Asif through sheer suggestion, my gaze landed on a black satin dress on the mannequin by the window, most likely meant to be a bridesmaid dress.
Damondrew in a long sigh. "Fine, if it makes you happy.”Hepointed at the mannequin. “Thatone.Noneed to wrap it; just get her in the dress."
"That'sa bridesmaid dress"
"Justdo it," he snapped.
Thenext moment,Ifound myself in a fitting room, tucked into a dress that was a perfect fit because of the seamstress working at manic speed.
"What?"Imumbled.HowdidIget here?WhydidIkeep losing time?Instinctively,Ipatted my chest.Mybra was missing, my cardholder and photo with it. “Whereis my bra and my things?”Iasked whoever was willing to listen.
“Wegave it to your fiancé,” someone replied.
